Chapter 6: Sophomores

In the middle of the week before Christmas, Andy’s Dad asked him whether he’d sent the Christmas packages to California.

“Weeks ago. This would be too late.”

“And did you get a present for your young lady?”

“Dammit, no,” Andy said

“Well, I know you think me an old fart, but I suggest you do so. Do you know her well enough to select a book?”

“Not really.” Although that would be his first choice. But she didn’t read SF, and she had any literature that he knew would interest her.

“I’d suggest something feminine to wear, not at all intimate. Not perfume -- women choose their own scents and do it on a basis that you and I can’t judge. Besides, perfume would look intimate. Something like a scarf that looks feminine and also feels soft and warm.”

“Why are you so sure that she wouldn’t want anything intimate from me?”

“Because a Christmas gift is something she shows her family and friends,” Dad said. “She might love to wear a special pair of panties for you to take off. She wouldn’t love to open it in front of her father.”

“And she has a younger brother.”

“Well, I was exaggerating about the panties. I don’t really think you’d be that obtuse. But a blouse or bottle of perfume that would look perfectly all right to a kid brother might look like you were taking liberties to her mother.”

“How much?” Andy asked.

“The price? I really wouldn’t know. And you raise an important question. Still, don’t overwhelm her. Get something from a main-line department store which looks like the middle price of what they sell of that kind, or a little more.”

So, he went to the Loop and bought Marilyn a scarf. It was feminine and looked dressy to him, not one of those long ones that you wrap around your neck three times and it still drags on the ground.

He carried it to church Christmas Eve, and Marilyn was there. She sat with her family, though. After service, he gave it to her. She thanked him nicely.

When he and Dad had Christmas the next day, the first one that they had celebrated on the day for a long time, he not only got gifts from Dad and from everyone in San Diego, he got a lovely tie clasp from Marilyn.

His grades came through. It was better than he had expected, probably better than he deserved. Art and Phys Ed were Bs. All the serious courses were As.

He didn’t invite Marilyn on any dates that vacation, although they always spoke after church. He’d let her have time with her family. Also, the weather wasn’t all that nice. He wouldn’t like to ask her to get in the back seat though that, but taking her out and not asking her into the back seat might look as if he didn’t like her anymore.

They did talk on the phone, and she told him that she had a good report card -- As in the English and Psych class where she needed them, and Bs everywhere else.

They went down to campus separately, too. When he called her, Marilyn invited him to the dance that her sorority was holding to celebrate the pledges surviving Hell Week. It was on Saturday, a little less than two weeks in the future. He’d meant to ask if she wanted to go back to Urbana First that Sunday, but he forgot in the pleasure of her actually inviting him. The inquisition had said that she seemed to have chosen him when she invited him the year before. Apparently, he was still her choice.

When he went back to Urbana First, he was glad he hadn’t brought her. People did recognize him, and he must have been asked why he’d been gone so long a dozen times.

“Well, you know I’m a student. I still belong up north. First, I had exams, and was cramming night and day. Then I went home for the Christmas break. Sorry! I should have said something. Marilyn was off for the Christmas break, too. And, earlier, when I didn’t come, she had no way of getting here. She’s still getting settled in the new quarter.” None of it was quite a lie; none of it mentioned Hell Week.

He showed up at Marilyn’s party as early as he could.

“Andy, this is Beverly,” Marilyn said before the dances started. “She’s my Little Sister.” The ‘little’ sister looked like she had at least five inches on Marilyn.

“If you say so.”

“Literalist!” Marilyn said. Her anger was all pretense, however.

“Hello, Beverly,” he said. This girl was important to Marilyn, which made her opinion of him important. “You’re very important in Marilyn’s life. She’s been talking about you. I’m Andy Trainor.”

“I’m Beverly Guerin. I’ve heard about you, too.”

“I deny it all.” Beverly laughed, which was a good sign. Leaving her laughing, they went for punch and then for a dance. Dancing with Marilyn was always a pleasure, but the dances during which he could hold her were a greater pleasure. Before one of these, however, they were interrupted.

“Look,” one of the girls said, “let me dance with your boyfriend,”

“Sure, Donna.”

“Donna, might I have the pleasure of this dance?” If Marilyn wanted this, he’d play along.

“The pleasure is mine, Andy.” They got into the rhythm before she continued. “Look, I’ve got a favor to ask of you. One of the recent pledges is in trouble in College Algebra. Do you think you could help?”

“I might be able to help. I’d have to look at my schedule.” What he really had to do was ask Marilyn in private whether she wanted this or was being forced to ask it of him. If the second, his schedule was going to look real tight. “How many girls does the house have taking College Algebra?”

“Three. But the other two got ‘C’s. Why?”

“Well, I don’t want to spend a lot of time alone with one of Marilyn’s sisters. Maybe you could set up a tutoring program for all three. Don’t ask yet. I haven’t looked at the schedule yet.”

“But you could handle it? What did you get in College Algebra?” Which demonstrated why this Donna wasn’t going to do the tutoring herself.

“Didn’t take it. Marilyn never took remedial English, either, but she could help with it. If you don’t take, or don’t pass, the normal English courses in high school, you take remedial English, and they don’t give college credit for it. If you don’t take or don’t pass normal high-school mathematics, they call the remedial course College Algebra. They give college credit for it, but it’s just remedial high-school math.”

“You know, you think we sorority sisters are snobs,” Donna said.

“I never said that.”

“But you think it, and -- in some ways -- we are. But you’re a snob, too.”

“Well, I never said that any of you guys aren’t good enough to be Marilyn’s friends -- even the ones taking College Algebra. Plenty have said that I’m not good enough to be her boyfriend.” And he’d heard about that.

“Well, that’s mostly in the past. It had two parts. One, we had great hopes for Marilyn when we rushed her. She had everything. Then she goes with a boy who is not only non-Greek, but looks, sometimes, from some perspectives, sorta ... non-smooth.”

“Like who only wears three neckties.” Marilyn had brought that up and said that her sisters had noticed that. He’d been surprised to learn that they’d noticed him at all.

“Yeah.”

“I can see that.” He could see ‘non-smooth.’ He’d gone through high school without anyone thinking he was even slightly smooth. What he couldn’t see was why he had to wear different neckties at all. They didn’t get that dirty, after all.

“The second,” Donna continued, “was that some sisters thought that Marilyn’s sudden romance with a guy who she’d known in high school looked contrived. Maybe you were a high-school couple who she pretended weren’t a couple until she was pledged.”

“It really wasn’t like that.” It had been almost the opposite of that, Marilyn had refused him a date in high school because she was somebody else’s steady.

“Yeah. That opinion sorta disappeared over the summer. First, only a few really had that suspicion enough to voice it, and most of them graduated. Second, her first-year roommates got spread around. They’d seen her, heard her disappointment when you didn’t call. They laughed at the idea. And, third, Brittany got pledged. Okay, she was only a pledge, but she’d been there.” ‘Disappointments when he didn’t call’ -- this Donna was sounding nicer and nicer.

“So, I was an honest drip?” Andy said.

“I don’t think anyone thought you were a drip. And boyfriends’ reputations are comparative. Every time some guy dumps a girl, cheats on her, gets physical, makes a pass at one of her sisters, gets drunk and barfs on the lawn, Andy’s comparative stock goes up.

“Then, too,” she continued, “over the summer you turned from a guy who owned three neckties to one who drove a Buick. Oh, I know it’s superficial...”

“I thought a Buick was a dull car, a banker’s car.”

“Andy, believe me, if you’d shown up driving a Ferrari, everyone would have asked who you thought you were trying to fool,” Donna said. “Anyway, you also made dean’s list, and Brittany, again, keeps saying that you’re the nicest guy in the whole world. Look, don’t think that junior varsity badminton team and hot wouldn’t trump dean’s list and nice any day of the week. Still, Marilyn’s choice was a solid, bright, nice guy. We might wonder why she didn’t go for something flashier, but we could, at least, see those advantages.”

“Gee, thanks.” That was really damning with faint praise.

“I’m being honest. Still, she’s what? half your height?”

He said, “Four fifths, actually, without heels.”

“Andy, you really are a nerd sometimes.”

“Yeah, and you could probably find a jock to coach those girls.”

“Oh,” Donna said, “I’m clear; I’m clear. What did you do for Brittany, anyway?”

“Very little. It’s just that when I was medium decent, she didn’t think there were any decent males.”

“I could get the whole story from her, you know.”

“Then do,” he said. If Donna were that interested, she would already have done it. “It’s her story. I’ve told you more than I should have.”

“That does sound like a nice guy. If I don’t see what Marilyn sees in you, I see that it’s no disgrace that you’re connected. Actually, you’re a good dancer, too.”

“Surprise you?” Andy asked.

“Not really,” she said. But he thought it had surprised her a little. They had stereotypes of non-frat guys. As an engineering major who wasn’t the life of the party, he fit some of those stereotypes. He really didn’t fit them all. When he brought her back to Marilyn, Donna left them. He and Marilyn sat on the stairs sipping their drinks until the next slow dance started.

“Well, did you say yes?” she asked when they were dancing. Obviously, she knew what Donna had asked.

“I said maybe. Did you want me to say yes?”

“Sorta. She’s my sister, but they’re nothing to you. You don’t have to. Would it mess up your own study time?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “The reason I delayed was that you, obviously, can’t say no. I have a perfect right to say no. So, if it would bother you to have me spend time with other women, I could say no.”

“Other women? She only told me about Hailey.”

“Well, I did say no to that. I’m not going into a closed room -- let alone that closed room -- with one other woman. She says that there are two others who got Cs last quarter. She seems to think that this is satisfactory.”

Marilyn said, “Well, they were pledges then. We ran their asses ragged. If they passed under those conditions, they should do well enough this quarter.”

“Anyway, if I tell her yes, she’ll get the other two into a small tutorial. You’re the teacher; I’m not. I’ll have to figure how to handle it.” He was, actually, already planning how to handle it. He wasn’t a teacher, but they had a teacher. He was a guy who knew how to learn math, and often high-schoolers learned the wrong way to learn math -- as a bunch of facts. Math consists of patterns. “Anyway,” he said. He had the prettiest woman in the room -- on the entire campus -- in his arms; he’d worry about the less important women some other time. They danced in silence while he appreciated her shape moving against him, if lightly against him.