Chapter 2: Study Dates

Marilyn Grant was walking to the movies the next week with Andy when he asked her about their English classes. They had different teachers, but the syllabus and texts were the same. They were in nearly the same place in the book. Andy asked for study hints.

“I’ve talked to my History professor. He suggested that I could have got an A if I’d put more effort into my paper. Maybe so, but that quarter included the part of American history I really know about. I can’t be sure enough about my History grade to omit trying for an A in English, too. You’re the English expert. What should I do?”

“Well, I’m not going to compare our grades, expert or not, but what got me through the pledge period with a B was that I’d read the literature stories early on. When I read them for assignments...” She wasn’t about to tell him how often she’d not read the assignments immediately before class but winged it from memory. “ ... I was dealing with familiar material.”

“I can do that.” Andy, whatever the stereotypes of engineering majors, regarded reading as something everyone did.

“Now, what help can you give me on History?”

“Not much,” he replied. “If I’m going to write a better paper, I’m going to concentrate on an early period of what this quarter covers. I’m going to write about the guys who led us into the electrical era -- Edison, Tesla, Steinmetz. Maybe I’ll include Westinghouse, too; I don’t know anything about him. That’s playing off my strength, but it’s not your strength.”

“Well, that’s at least a suggestion -- not the engineers, the strength. I know about writers. Maybe I’ll cover some literary movement.”

“Wasn’t the wild west invented during this period? I know it was after the Civil War.”

“Well, I’ll work on some authors who interest me.” But that was typical of Andy -- give him an idea and he’d see a concretion.

It was still too cold, and the trees were dripping. They returned to the front parlor. They weren’t the only couple, but Andy sat on the piano bench and held her on his lap. They looked out the window with the piano shielding most of their bodies from others’ eyes. Andy not only held her tits like that, he started stroking her legs. He kept his hands outside her clothes, however. She didn’t get to kiss him much, but he continually scattered kisses over what he could reach -- her neck, her ears, even the back of her head. Those kisses were as arousing as his hands on her tits. She called him up the next night.

“Look, our talk about the subjects we’re both taking gave me an idea. Why don’t you come over Friday after dinner and bring your History and English books. Maybe we could study together.”

Amy said that they could use the study room if nobody else was using it. It was on the first floor, but it was usually reserved for members only. Everybody laughed at her for studying on a Friday night, but it meant that the house would be practically empty. And, despite her own doubts, they did get a lot of studying done. They split their time between the subjects. She helped Andy more on English, but he helped her more on American History.

When people started to come back, talking loudly, Andy and she quit studying by mutual consent. Nobody had come into the room yet, so they came together for a kiss in privacy. When they were done, he lifted her so that she was standing on a chair. Now, her head was higher than his. He pressed his face between her tits while she bent over to kiss his ears. His hands cupped her seat. He squeezed, but very gently. After his parka was fastened, he bent over to kiss her gently in the entry hall. She went upstairs early.

Sunday dinner was at 2:00 p.m. Despite that, many of the members slept in and skipped breakfast. After dinner, there was always a formal chapter meeting. This day, after all the ceremonies and routine business, Pamela had an announcement.

“Next Friday, we have a chapter date with Psi Upsilon. That means that we will all go there together. We expect everybody to be present and dressed for a party at the end of supper. Georgiana and Sharon (the two seniors who didn’t live in the house), warn me if you don’t plan to be here for supper.”

She’d always known -- and had warned Andy -- that her study dates were subject to house events, but having the second study date cancelled might tick Andy off. And, too, she thought the first one had taught her something. She did want to end the year with a better GPA.

What was worse, Tuesday brought a downpour. When she was called to the phone, she already knew it was a cancellation of their movie date.

“Have you looked outside?” Andy asked. She hadn’t had to. He lived in a high-rise dorm with reinforced concrete walls and a roof far overhead. She lived on the top floor of what could have been a private house -- luxurious for one family, but there were larger ones -- with wooden walls. She could hear the storm even now.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t want to go out in that, and I don’t want to take you out in that.”

“Well, no.”

“It’s gauche of me to invite myself over, but do you want a study date tonight and a movie some other time?” That would be lovely, except...

“Andy, that would still mean your walking all that way.”

“Half as far, really. I’d have to walk over and back, anyway. I’d also walk with you. And, honestly, Marilyn, I can move faster than you can.” He could certainly walk faster than she did on dates.

“Well, if you’re willing.” More members were home that night, and the study room was in use. When Andy got there and shed his parka and overshoes, they set themselves up in the dining room.

She told him about having to cancel Friday, and they decided to study what they figured would be a week ahead. Andy turned out to have a good voice for poetry. He was really bad at marking accents, but when he read, the accents were there. They were on the Gilded Age in history, and she knew as much about it as he did -- not all that much before they read the section. She had as much right to the dining room as anyone else, and -- having claimed it first -- she chased back out two couples who drifted in looking for a more private make-out space.

She was just as happy when the noise from the other rooms got louder.

“I think that’s it.” Her brain was about to shut down.

“Yeah, I think we’re done, anyway. I’ll call, and we’ll set up another time depending on your sorority’s schedule and the weather.” They came together for a kiss. When he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist -- much easier when she was wearing jeans. The kiss went on and on while his hands kneaded her seat.

“Study? My ass!” said Amy. She hadn’t heard the door open.

“Thanks,” said Andy, “but I’d rather study hers.”

“Really, Amy,” she said, “we did get a lot of studying done.”

“Yeah, I could tell. He’ll probably ace Anatomy, but did you study any course you’re taking?” Despite her words, Amy’s tone was laughing. Andy put her down but stood behind her. Poor guy probably was trying to hide his hardon. She led him around the table while standing so that Amy’s view was blocked. When he’d bundled himself into his parka, Andy bent over to give her a kiss. It was nice, and included some tongue, but it was by far the mildest kiss of the evening.

She went up to her room to read Psychology. She wished she could study that with Andy, or -- at least -- with somebody.

The weather was still damp, although not at all as wet as Tuesday’s, on Friday. The drivers among Psi Upsilon brothers shuttled them to the fraternity house by car. The dance was pleasant enough, and the snacks were scrumptious. She didn’t have to watch her weight as closely as some of her sisters did. They were driven home afterwards, and no brother tried to grope her. She’d worn her padded bra, but unnecessarily.

Monday, she had a History test. Tuesday evening was dry enough for Andy to take her to another movie. As the trees were still dripping, they returned to the house and kissed goodbye in the entryway. Really, the study dates had been more fun. They had been productive, too. Friday, she got the test back. (It had been multiple choice, and Professor Griffin had a teaching assistant to do the grades.) She’d got an A.

“See,” she told Amy when she found her in her room before supper, “we did study.” She showed her the test.

“Marilyn! That’s great!”

“I just wish Andy were taking psych.”

“Well, you know, it might be more fun to study with your boyfriend, but there are plenty of your sisters who are taking psych. Why don’t you ask.” So, at supper, she did. Connie said she might be interested.

“I used the house files last quarter, but the instructor changed the test.”

“Well, I have to learn this stuff as a prerequisite. I’m perfectly willing to look at the house files the day before the test, but I want to learn the stuff first. Otherwise, I’ll find myself not knowing what I need next year.” Connie, who was not the leader type, agreed. They set Saturday morning for their study-together time and agreed that each would read the section first.

Still, later that night, it was much more fun to study with Andy. He gave her a big kiss to celebrate the A before they sat down to work.

The pattern went on like that, with regular studying with Connie and irregular, but nearly as frequent, studying with Andy. As the spring weather got better, she and Andy saw more movies and had much more time together in the trees.

The sorority had a group song scheduled as a Greek-week event. Knowing that she was taking chorus, Antonia, the Junior who was in charge, asked her to participate. She agreed bashfully -- she wasn’t one of the stars of the music class. She needn’t have worried; she was among the better singers in the house.

Andy asked her to another university dance. Almost the entire house had their own dates there. People were mostly switching partners, and she suggested that Andy ask some of her freshman sisters. After one dance with her, Andy was about to get them Cokes -- this dance was on school property, and actually dry -- when she saw Caitlin and Natalie sitting together without male companionship.

“Get four Cokes,” she said, “and join me at that table.” She sat down with her ‘family.’ Natalie was her big sister, and Caitlin was Natalie’s. When Andy set down the glasses, she passed them around. She introduced everybody, although they’d all seen each other.

“Now, Caitlin,” she asked. “Do you really want to hear Andy’s take on the real history of the Civil War?”

“You can laugh at me, but I’d be interested.”

“Here’s your chance. And, Natalie, let’s move on. Believe me, you don’t want to hear this.” They took their glasses and moved to another table.

“If he’s that bad, why do you go with him?” Natalie asked.

“He’s not all that bad. He doesn’t talk about his hobby horse any more than the next guy talks about himself. It’s just that he’s polished this argument with so many repetitions that the second time I heard it sounded like a tape recording of the first. And Andy’s the sort of person who thinks numbers communicate. You don’t hear him say ‘a lot,’ ‘many,’ or even ‘a shitload.’ It’s always ‘7 million, 238 thousand.’”

“What’s that the number of?”

“The beast, for all I know,” she confessed. “I just made it up. I couldn’t repeat it again to save my life.”

“You’re serious about this guy, aren’t you?” Good question. Now if only she had a good answer.

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, you look serious,” Natalie said.

“The real question is: ‘how serious is he?’”

“If an outside opinion is any help, he looks serious, too. Does he have another girl?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, if he takes you to university dances, and he doesn’t belong to a frat, where would he take another girl?” Natalie had a good point, and Andy didn’t talk like somebody who saw two movies a week. “The problem isn’t whether you’re able to keep him, it’s whether you should want to.”

Two boys came over at this point to ask them to dance. She didn’t feel attracted to the guy who asked her, nor did she feel comfortable dancing with another guy when she’d steered Andy into a conversation with Caitlin. When he was dancing with somebody else was different. Natalie went off with the guy who’d asked her.

“Sorry Paul,” she said.

“Well, at least you remember my name. What did I do wrong?”

“I’m sort of in a relationship, and I don’t mind dancing with other guys when he’s dancing with another woman, but ... Oh, it’s complicated. But it’s nothing you did wrong.” Which was almost true. she would have refused, maybe refused more vigorously, if he had attracted her.

“Damn! I had it figured out. The brothers tell me that two women sitting together are both looking for dance partners.”

“Maybe it’s almost always true. Why aren’t you looking for another pair?”

“Nope. I’m being watched by the brothers of my house. Two minutes talking with a pretty girl is success. How do they know whether you’re too tired to dance? Getting turned down in a few seconds is a bad failure.” At this point, she saw Andy get up.

“Well, you’d better head out, then. Here comes my date. You don’t want them seeing you upstaged by him.” And he left. Andy, however, held Caitlin’s chair and it was another minute before they both came over.

“He didn’t quite persuade me,” Caitlin said, “but it sounded reasonable. He should put it in a paper.”

“Did,” said Andy. “Bombed.”

“Why?”

“I’d said it all in class, beforehand, and I had minimal citations to back up my assertions. Professor claimed I hadn’t put in much research nor any thought on it this year. Which, after all, was true.”

“And what does ‘bombed’ mean?” Marilyn had learned that Andy’s standards were a little higher than most of her sisters’ were.

“A C on the paper. It was enough to get me a B in the course.”

“You two go dance,” Caitlin said. And so, they did. There were only three more dances that night, and they shared them all. The trees were occupied when they got there, and so they went on to the house. Even though the audience inhibited their making out, she was happy enough. She was a little too tired to enjoy being lifted into his kiss.

Many students planned to go away for Spring Break. Andy asked whether she was going back to Evanston. She was.

“Me, too. Taking your books?” She hadn’t planned to, but...

“Think it’s a good idea?”

“Sure. You get a chance to get ahead of the lectures. Maybe we could study together.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” And, after some thought, she packed her Psychology book, too. While the most attractive feature of studying with Andy was being with Andy, his idea of studying over the break was a good one.

They arranged to go north together on the same train. Many of her friends were going home to the Chicago area. Others were going to visit friends who lived in the metro. And, of course there were a few getting off at some intermediate stops or going on from Chicago. There were nearly a dozen people she knew in the station waiting for the train. Andy had met her sorority sisters, but she introduced him to them as well as to her classmates. He introduced her to three classmates. She didn’t know how to describe him besides his name. He called her “a neighbor and old friend,” which wasn’t any more adequate. They sat together, and he started asking about her recent class experiences.

“Swimming is going fine; I’m going to use it come summer. Chorus is okay...” She could drivel on for the entire trip without getting an answer to her question. “Look, how should I describe you?”

“Six foot one? EE major? Nerd? Basically, as long as I’m not there, say anything you want.”

“But when you’re there. This is my... ?”

“What’s accurate? Occasional date? Study partner? Distant admirer?”

“You haven’t been all that distant. Should I say that you’re my boyfriend?” That was the question she’d been trying to avoid, but he’d been no help.

“I’d be very happy if that were true.”

“Well, we go on a lot of dates for not being boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay. And may I call you my girlfriend, too? After all, you go on other dates. I haven’t dated anybody else since you went to the first movie with me. I’d say that you’re the woman I’m obsessed with, except that you’re an English major. You wouldn’t want to be described by a sentence ending in a preposition.” She laughed. As a matter of fact, she was much more a woman than an English major. If a guy said he was obsessed with her, she wasn’t going to criticize his grammar. Well, the question was settled, sort of. They were boyfriend and girlfriend.

When the train had arrived at Central Station, Andy got off first with his bags, helped her down, set her bags beside her, and then went back to swing down the bags of two of her friends who had been in the same car. She waited for him, and he put his lighter bag under his left arm. He carried his heavy bag in his left hand, and her large suitcase in his right. She was left with one bag.

“Being met?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“I’m taking a cab. Dad’ll be still at work. If you don’t have a ride, I’ll have the cab drop you.” But, as she had expected, Mom was there.

“Mom, this is Andy. I’ve written you about him.”

“Mrs. Grant.” Andy set down the bag to shake her hand, but then picked it up again. He carried it to where Mom had parked the car and waited for her to open the trunk. When the suitcase was inside the trunk, he turned to her. Mom was asking her questions, not paying much attention to Andy.

“See you,” he said during Mom’s excited quizzing. He shifted his lighter bag to his right hand and strode off.

“Well,” Mom said watching him go, “you have written a little about him, but I don’t think you’ve written everything.”

“What’s there to say? He’s very nice. He’s taken me on dates, and we’ve studied together. He understands about how important Zeta is in my life.” Really, if you wanted to summarize Andy, ‘he understands’ might be it.