Chapter 92: Lucky Ones

Friday, February 7, 1986

I met Amy at her dorm room at six, then walked her to my car and headed off for Chinese buffet. Simple, but it suited both of us. The ‘date’ part of tonight was fairly simple, after all. The ‘more’ part? We would see. At this point, little could truly surprise me with Amy. We could end on anything from a goodnight kiss to a prolonged and intense romp in the sheets. I tended to guess it would be closer to the latter, but who knew?

Much of our dinner conversation was about her project. The whole thing seemed to be working out surprisingly well. Some of the subtext seemed clear: she was in a leadership role because of me. Not directly, because I’d never pushed her to do it, but I thought having someone she thought of as a peer take her seriously and respect her had flipped a switch and made her more likely to expect — or demand — the same elsewhere. She alluded to things along that line just enough that it seemed likely.

It felt like she was doing well with it, too. The group was working consistently along the more aggressive path she had chosen. They were making good progress, and she felt as if they might complete the project earlier in the semester than required. Some of the procrastinators wanted to slack off, but Amy was nudging them along with the argument that Spring Break and Easter would get in the way, and they would also have to slow down around exam weeks and such.

Amy herself brought up some sort of public speaking course. She had come around to the viewpoint that it would be good for her. Naturally, she wanted as many of us as possible to join her. Cammie had already flat-out demanded that Mel take one (even though Mechanical Engineering didn’t require it, either), and several of us were going to take one even though we didn’t need it, myself included.

Verbal communication skills seemed like a dropped ball for many of the engineering majors. Math, too — Angie would need Technical Writing but not Technical Speaking, Public Speaking (the course the business school generally required), or anything else. Most of us didn’t need them, clearly, but a refresher wouldn’t hurt (and it would be an easy A).

Once we’d covered her project, we talked some about other classes. She thought mine sounded interesting and was strongly considering minoring in business. If she did, we would happily make sure she had strong study groups to join in, even if we were well beyond the courses she was in. Partnering with Candice was also an option.

That was another change, too. Amy had never studied with anyone in high school or for her first year and a half at A&M. She had, pretty much, been a loner. I could entirely sympathize with that. First-life Steve hadn’t been a loner, really, but there were few classes where I’d had study buddies. Unless my roommates were in the class, or I had to, I did it all on my own.

That had been more true than not in graduate school as well. There were exceptions, but I’d mostly just taken care of my own things.

The whole thing might have been one of the more subtle differences in who I was, one I both saw and missed simultaneously. It was easy to acknowledge that I had far more friends, and spent far more time working in groups on classes, but it was also just there. It had been my life for five and a half years, and sometimes it was easy to forget how different just that part of my life was from what I’d done before.

The Dan Peek concert turned out to be fun. I might have said it would never be a highlight of my life, but it was the first concert I attended with Amy and the first concert she ever attended. Depending on how things played out, that might be a highlight.

It was definitely not too loud for her. Dan mostly played acoustic guitar, and the amplification (both of it and his voice) wasn’t bad. We sat in the middle back of the theater, which probably slightly helped. She confirmed twice that it was a pleasant volume for her.

She also wanted me to hold her when I could. That’s why we were somewhat back from the rest. At one point, she looked up at me and said, “I am apparently a slut for your hugs. This is still ... wonderful. I’m glad your arms aren’t tiring.”

I smiled, kissed her on the forehead, and said, “It’s really nice holding you. I’m glad they’re not tiring either.”

She giggled a tiny bit and nodded.

Even snuggled up, I think we looked entirely wholesome. Hands were visible, we were just snuggling, and so forth. Of course, that assumes one thinks a girl wearing a studded collar and cuffs with purple eyeshadow and ankh earrings is ‘entirely wholesome.’ I certainly did, but some people would disagree.

‘Wholesome’ fit, because while about half of the concert consisted of America songs (‘Horse With No Name’ was the standout, but ‘Ventura Highway’, ‘Tin Man’, and ‘Sister Golden Hair’ were all very well done, and there were more as well), the other half consisted of the Christian folk-rock material Peek was doing now. None of it was overbearing, and some of it was honestly pretty good, but neither Amy or I were particularly interested in Christian music. We didn’t ignore those songs, but they weren’t going to send either of us running off to the record store to get his newer work.

Still, it seemed right that we were just snuggling and listening. A kiss on the forehead fit. A kiss on the lips might have felt out of place. We would be in the right place for that soon enough.

Our walk back took us down the now very familiar route through the little park and over the bridge. We walked hand in hand, discussing the concert. Her opinions very much mirrored mine: his newer work was ‘fine,’ but didn’t speak to her in any way. Amy had already expressed some interest in Unitarianism, and she did again tonight. Her parents were ‘Christian enough,’ while she more or less indifferent to the whole thing. A church where you were encouraged to figure out what you believed was right up her alley. Maybe she would join us.

As we neared the parking lot, she grinned, tugged my hand to stop me, and said, “Would you care to come up to my room for a bit, Steve?” It came out so much more polished than the first time she’d tried the same thing, but still entirely genuine.

“I would love to, Amy,” I said, then gave her a quick kiss.

“That was a lot better, I think,” she said, giggling.

“It was. Though, honestly, the first is a cherished memory.”

She giggled a bit more and squeezed my hand.

“I think ... that is one of many things I like about this. We take things that might have been not-so-good memories and change them. It seems like so many people see a thing, form an opinion, and then that is that. It was what it was. I am — or I was, perhaps? — good at saying the wrong thing. Putting my foot in my mouth. You are gifted at taking it out of my mouth and convincing me that it was fine for it to have gone there in the first place.”

“Because it was,” I said. “It’s not as if you ever intended to do any harm, for one thing. Really, it’s the opposite. You were trying to warn Claire that first time, and maybe also shake me out of being a bad person. Both very good things! And the first time you suggested your room was just you trying to become ... more, who you are now. Which ... hmm.”

“What are you thinking?” she said after a pause.

“It’s ... I think you are different...”

“I know I am different!” she said.

“Well, yes, but I don’t mean that. What I mean is, I don’t think the phrasing, tone of voice, all of that is the difference. It’s more conventionally conversational, it works for you, and I know you feel things a little differently, but it wasn’t a real stumbling block before. Some things were just cute, in a really unusual way.”