Chapter 64: ‘Zappa is a prophet... ‘

February 26, 1982, Circleville, Ohio

"Mom and Dad are on a date. Want to stay in and cook together?" Katy asked.

"Sure. But I'm only barely competent in the kitchen when it comes to cooking. I do know how to do the dishes pretty well."

"Cooking is pretty simple. Mainly, it's getting the right ingredients and following the recipe cards. Once you do that, you can make your own variations. It just takes a bit of experimentation."

"I'm game," I said. "What are we cooking?"

"I was thinking shrimp stir fry."

I smiled, "Thank you."

"It's hardly a compromise on my part and conforms to your fasting rule."

"Lead on!" I grinned.

We went to the kitchen, and Katy got all the ingredients from the fridge. She opened a drawer, took out a chef's knife, and handed it to me.

"Chop the broccoli, leaving only about a half inch of stem on the flower. There's a cutting board in the cabinet by your knees."

I opened the cabinet, took out the cutting board, and began chopping the broccoli while Katy peeled the shrimp. When I finished, I put the broccoli pieces in a colander and rinsed it, then set it aside to drain.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Kiss me!" she said with a smile.

I pulled her into my arms, and we exchanged a soft French kiss.

"And now?" I asked when she broke the kiss.

"In the cabinet to your right at shoulder height, there are cans of water chestnuts and straw mushrooms. The can opener is in the drawer to your right. Open the cans, drain each of them, and put them in separate bowls, which you can find in the cabinet further to your right."

I did as she asked, and she finished peeling the shrimp.

"OK, kiss me, then you can put the rice on to cook."

We kissed again, and she directed me to where a non-stick pot was, as well as to the pantry for the rice. I followed the instructions printed on the box and added rice, water, salt, and a small amount of jasmine oil to the pot. I put it on the stove and adjusted the gas flame.

"Done. Another kiss?"

"Of course!" Katy laughed. "It's an integral part of cooking together!"

"I don't recall my mom mentioning that when she taught me some basic stuff like making spaghetti and tomato sauce."

"I'd be really worried if you kissed your mom like that!" Katy laughed.

"Gross!" I said disgustedly.

"Obviously. So, we need the wok next."

"Wok?"

"A special cooking utensil. In the back of the pantry closet is a set of shelves. On the top shelf is what looks like a large skillet, but with high sides and wider at the top than at the bottom. Make sure you get the wok ring, too. That's what the wok is sitting on, and we need that for the burner."

I went into the pantry closet, found what she had described, and brought it out to the kitchen. Katy got out some oil and set up the wok on the gas stove.

"We can't start just yet, as the rice has another thirty-five minutes or so, and cooking the shrimp and vegetables will only take about fifteen minutes total. Let's go in the great room."

I followed Katy into the great room and sat down next to her on a loveseat. She scooted close, and I put my arm around her.

"What do you think so far?" she asked.

"If I get that many kisses, I think I'm going to like cooking," I teased.

"I did say it was an integral part! Would you like to kiss me again?"

"You don't have to ask twice!"

She turned and extended her legs so she was facing me, and her left hip was against my right. I wrapped my arms around her, and we exchanged a soft French kiss. We spent about fifteen minutes kissing before we had to go back to the kitchen to begin cooking the stir-fry.

"The trick to this is using very high heat and stirring things continuously. Turn on that burner on maximum."

I did as she asked, and she handed me a wooden utensil.

"Now," Katy continued, "when the wok begins to glow, put in the oil, the small amount of spices in that bowl, and the shrimp. Stir quickly and constantly. Once the shrimp is a healthy pink, put in the broccoli, then about a minute later, the mushrooms and water chestnuts. I'll watch and guide you."

It took about five minutes for the wok to come up to temperature, and Katy instructed me to start. I was amazed at how quickly the shrimp turned pink, and then added the broccoli and other vegetables in turn. After a few minutes, she had me turn off the heat and pour the stir fry into a serving bowl. She took the wok and, using some sort of brush, quickly scrubbed it clean. The rice was finished, so I poured it into another serving bowl, and we took the food to the dinette table, where Katy had set out two plates, two bowls, and chopsticks.

"Uhm, I've never used chopsticks before," I said.

"It's actually easy; I can show you, but I'll get you a fork if you prefer."

"There's a first time for everything," I grinned. "I'll give it a shot."

Katy served the rice and stir fry, putting a ball of rice in each of the small bowls then stir fry on each of our plates. She went to the kitchen and returned with two bottles of 7-Up and a fork.

"OK, let me show you how to use the chopsticks," she said.

She helped me hold them properly using my thumb and first two fingers. I did my best and actually managed to eat about half my dinner before cramps in my fingers caused me to give up and resort to the fork.

"Not bad for a first time," Katy said.

"Thanks, I think," I chuckled.

"Seriously, you did a good job, considering you've never done that before."

We finished eating and then cleaned up the kitchen. Katy offered ice cream for dessert, and I accepted. and after we ate it, we went up to her room to listen to music. We cuddled on her loveseat and kissed for about ten minutes before she took my hand and moved it to her sweater-clad breast.

"You don't need to wait for me to give permission for this in the future," she whispered, and we kissed again while I gently fondled her.

After a few minutes, Katy broke the kiss. She shifted so she was leaning against my leg as she had in the sauna, then took my left hand and gently guided me under her sweater. I felt the warm, soft skin of the stomach and slowly slid my hand up to caress her breast, now only separated from my palm by a thin cotton bra. Katy smiled and shifted so we could kiss.

I rubbed my thumb gently across her hard nipple, longing to touch it directly, but I didn't think it was right to try to push things forward so quickly after she had let me do this. But as we continued to kiss, I wondered if it HAD been an invitation to push things forward a bit, so I slid my hand up and traced my fingers along the top edge of her bra. Katy continued to kiss me and didn't seem to object, but my hand wasn't really in a position where I could do anything unless I unhooked her bra.

I moved my hand back to caress her breast, then slowly slid it around to where the clasp was. I ran my fingers along it and tried to decide if I could unhook it with one hand. I wasn't exactly sure how to do it, but I decided that the hooks would release if I used my thumb and forefinger to slide the material together, then let go when the hook was out of the eye. Katy didn't stop kissing me, so I squeezed my thumb and forefinger together, and the first hook popped open. I repeated that twice more, and her bra now hung loosely on her body.

Ever so slowly, I moved my hand from her back and gently trailed my fingers over her soft skin until they came in contact with her small breast. Sensing no objection, I slowly moved my forefinger until it came in contact with the small bumps of her areola, then traced a circle around it, ending by dragging my finger across Katy's nipple. She jumped a bit and moaned into my mouth, and our kiss deepened as I cupped her small, firm breast in my hand. About two minutes later, Katy broke the kiss.

"And the results of your exam, 'Doctor Mike'?" she asked breathlessly.

"I think you're VERY healthy!" I replied, kissing her nose and squeezing her breast gently.

She giggled softly, "You think so?"

"Well, I might need to repeat the exam to be sure! Or even conduct a more thorough one!"

Katy didn't say anything but simply took a deep breath and let it out. I wasn't totally sure what that implied, but there was only one way to find out. I released her breast and slowly slid my hand down to Katy's stomach, looking deeply into her eyes. When Katy didn't object, I slipped my fingertips under the waist of her jeans, then, after a few seconds, under the waistband of her panties. Not wanting to go too far, I slowly slid my fingers down until I felt soft, wispy pubic hair. I ran my fingertips through it, then slowly pulled my hand up and cupped her breast once again.

"Very healthy!" I breathed, then kissed her on the lips.

Katy took a deep breath, let it out, then sat up and reached around to refasten her bra. Once she'd done so, she scooted close and rested her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her so we could cuddle close.

"Why did you stop?" she asked.

"Are we really ready for where that could lead?"

"Confession once we get to third base?" she smirked.

"Well, there is that issue, too. But I was thinking more about us."

"Are you talking about commitment? I don't mean going steady; I mean longer term."

"It is something we should at least think about," I said. "It's one of those things you can't get a do-over on."

Katy laughed softly, "According to my friend Patti, the 'do-over' is the GOOD part!"

"I do believe you know what I meant," I said lightly.

"I do," she sighed. "I don't know."

"Then, for now, hands above the waist," I said.

"Oh sure," she teased. "That works perfectly to your advantage!"

"I'm OK with whatever limits you want to set; just be sure you set them at a place you're comfortable with and that you won't regret in the future. And we need to have a talk about other issues."

"Birth control?" she asked.

"For one thing, yes. And ground rules."

"Ground rules?"

"So we don't have any misunderstandings. You know how my friendship with Angie works, and I've told you about my friend Jocelyn. You and I would have to agree on what's OK and what's not OK so we don't have any problems in that area."

"I thought they were just friends?"

If Katy and I got as serious as it seemed we might, then that would be true about Jocelyn based on our last conversation.

"They are, but I spend a lot of time with them, including bringing Angie to church all the time. If you were to be jealous, that could create big problems between you and me. Hence, the ground rules. What's OK and what's not. Can I take Angie or Jocelyn out to dinner? Go to a movie? Spend the weekend visiting Angie in Cincinnati? Go to Madison to see my friend Dale with Jocelyn?"

"But nothing would happen? Well, you know what I mean."

"Nothing would happen."

"Then I don't see a problem, so long as you're totally honest with me and don't ever lie about anything."

"I can promise that."

"Because if you do, you'll be in NEED of a doctor instead of being one!" she said lightheartedly.

"The story of every man's life, at least so far as I understand it."

"Cheaters SHOULD be punished. Don't ever cheat on me, Mike."

"I won't. I agree with you on that topic."

"There are still a few inches of slack in the leash," Katy laughed.

"Nice," I chuckled. "Is that how this works?"

"If you want what I believe you want, then yes, of course. Don't you agree?"

"I do. Is that what YOU want?"

"I don't know."

"Then we'll follow the limits I mentioned before."

I heard some noise downstairs, and Katy sat up.

"I think my parents are home," she said. "Let's go spend some time with them before you leave. It's good PR!"

I chuckled, "Making sure I'm OK with Daddy?"

She shook her head, "My dad is totally cool. It's my mom you have to watch out for!"

"Good to know!" I said soberly.

We got up and went downstairs.

February 27, 1982, McKinley, Ohio

"What happened with your roommate and his friends?" Nancy asked on Saturday morning.

"They were eventually cleared. It turns out the guys who fingered them were upset because one of Clark's friends, T, whose real name is Terry, was dancing with a pretty blonde. The two racist jerks claimed they saw a black guy come out of the room where the girl was found."

"That sucks!"

"No kidding. Clark and the guys didn't come back until late afternoon on Saturday. The cops held them for questioning despite each of them having an alibi."

"What is wrong with the world?"

"According to Clark, this is pretty standard for black kids. He had a similar problem when he was fifteen back in Cincinnati. A complete, verifiable alibi, and the cops ignored it because it was the word of blacks against whites."

She shook her head, "Crazy. Well, at least it turned out alright."

"Sort of. Think about having to live like that? I've been seriously apolitical forever, but stuff like this makes me reconsider that stance."

"You're a Democrat, right?"

I shrugged, "My parents voted for Reagan, but mostly they've been Democrats. I don't identify with any political party."

"But you're upset enough about this to do something about it?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I'm not sure what I could do besides not be a racist jerk and call out racist jerks when I see them."

"That's actually a pretty good strategy, don't you think?" Nancy asked. "I don't think you can change anybody's opinion simply by passing a law. If you could, nobody would ever break the law. I mean, murder has been against the law since even before Moses brought the tablets down from Mount Sinai. Heck, the first recorded crime is a murder!"

"True! I need to get back to work."

"Before I forget, I wanted to let you know I formally decided on Taft and sent back my signed acceptance letter."

"Cool."

I was busy all morning, only taking time from my assigned tasks to run the register when Nancy was on a break. When my shift was over, I hurried back to campus to eat and then went to karate with Angie. After karate, I practiced my guitar while Angie did some homework, and then we went out with the gang, which now included Melody, T, and Jefferson, the other two guys who had been rousted by the cops.

"What are we doing after dinner?" Jason asked.

"There's a stand-up comedian who's doing his schtick in the Taft Auditorium," Jeannette said. "We can get in for a buck with our student IDs. Supposedly, he's hilarious. His thing is similar to George Carlin's."

"Carlin is awesome!" Carter said. "He just started doing stand-up again last year. Have you heard A Place for My Stuff?"

"I have that album," I said. "I also have the album that has Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television!"

"No way!" Marie laughed. "YOU?"

"Yes, me. Along with Steve Martin's Wild and Crazy Guy. I kept those hidden away as my mom did NOT appreciate them. Of course, she wouldn't appreciate Joe's Garage, either."

"Wow! Who knew?"

"What's wrong with the Steve Martin album?" Angie asked.

Pete laughed, "There's a skit where he's talking about his girlfriend and says she had a great pussy. When everyone laughs, Martin berates them for having a dirty mind and says he was talking about her cat. They laugh more, and he says, 'incidentally, that cat was the best fuck I ever had'."

"Oh!" she gasped.

"Yeah, but those other albums Mike is talking about are WAY worse," Pete said. "Don't listen to Joe's Garage unless you can REALLY stand some pretty obscene stuff. I can see why Mike keeps that hidden away."

"Zappa is a prophet," Melody said. "I mean, seriously. He's promoting individualism and open sexuality and pointing out the dangers of big government and organized religion. I memorized a quote that I think is right on target."

"Are you a libertarian?" T asked.

"Pretty much," Melody said. "People should be free to do what they want, without anyone interfering, so long as they don't hurt anyone. It's not the government's business who I sleep with, what I do when I sleep with them, what I put in my body, what I eat, where I go, or what I do, so long as I don't hurt someone else. If I hurt myself, that's my own business and my own problem."

"Anything that reduces the power of the cops is OK in my book," Clark interjected.

"Except it's not your own business and your own problem, Melody," I said. "If you OD, they take you to the hospital and treat you, and if you can't pay, the cost has to be picked up by charity, or more likely, taxpayers and other patients. It's like the motorcycle helmet laws. The state ends up caring for you if you turn yourself into a paraplegic, quadriplegic, or worse. So you aren't just impacting or hurting yourself.

"As a doctor, I'll be required to treat you in an ER whether you can pay or not. Don't get me wrong, I think I should treat you, but even if I donate my time, the hospital has to spend money on drugs and supplies and keep upgrading its facilities. And that's true in our system or a socialized system. In the end, your freedom forces your fellow citizens to pay. To me, that says we DO have to worry about you hurting yourself."

"That sounds like a recipe for totalitarianism," Melody objected.

"I don't see that," Jason said before I could answer. "There are a lot of things we have to do together — build roads, provide police and fire protection, schools, and so on. We give up a bit of our money in taxes to do those things to provide for the common good. And sometimes the common good means you can't do everything you want. I hardly think having those things and enforcing laws is totalitarian."

"Maybe we should ask T, Clark, Larry, Carter, and Jefferson what they think about the police chief's freedom to do what he wants under the color of 'police powers'," Melody responded.

"No law will EVER stop a racist asshole from being a racist asshole," Clark said. "But we can end the institutional racism by electing people who'll put an end to it or fighting it in the courts. But all that racist shit aside, I know a lot of people who are only alive because of welfare. Do you want to cut that out so you can save a few pennies on your tax bill?"