Chapter 3

Despite the frequency and the thorough enjoyment of my times in bed with Mel, I somehow managed to have other girls in my life.

I called Sarah the night following Mel’s first time joining my friends and me at our lunch table.

“It’s Joe,” I told her once her mother handed the phone off to her.

“Really?” she practically shouted. “Give me a minute to go to my room.”

“Okay.”

“Hello,” I heard a minute later, a bit breathless. A click sounded. “How did you get my number?”

“Mel.”

“Of course. I’m glad she did.”

“Me too. How are things?”

“Okay. You?”

“Good. So are you free these days?”

“Do you mean do I have a boyfriend? Sort of.”

“Meaning?”

She sighed. “I like him well enough, but not nearly as much as he likes me. I just wanted to have someone to have some fun with. To be physical with. Maybe something deeper. But it’s two different things. I mean I feel close enough when it’s about kissing and touching and ... sex. Otherwise I just don’t feel that connection. Like I should care about what we talk about and I don’t. And I don’t think he does either, really. He’d rather get to the fun stuff. Me too, I suppose.

“But he calls me and wants to be around me at school. At first it was okay. Getting to know each other and all that. But gradually, or maybe not all that gradually, I’d keep the conversation brief. Abrupt. And he’s called me a lot less. Mostly to hook up when the opportunity arises. It’s more difficult at school, but I’ve been making excuses.”

“You should just tell him,” I suggested.

“That he’s suffocating me? I know. Except I still do like the sex.”

“I guess it’s hard to separate the two.”

“Yeah. So are you just checking up at me?”

“Uhm, Carol and I broke up.”

“Oh? Does that mean...”

“Would you like to go on a date?”

“Yes! When?”

“Are you into modern art?”

“Not really. Mostly graphics like in my Sega console. Why?”

“There’s this modern art museum. The Walker? It’s free admission on Thursday and they’re open late.”

“Sure.”

“They have a restaurant.”

“Dinner and a museum,” she chuckled. “Should I pick you up, or... ?”

“You have a car?”

“Nothing as fancy as my brother. More practical though. Four wheel drive. A hatchback with fold down back seats,” she giggled.

“That does sound practical,” I chuckled. “I’ll be in rehearsal for the school play, but should be home by five-thirty.”

“Six okay?”

“Sure.” I gave her my address and driving instructions.

“See you then.”

“See you.”

The next evening was a horny evening for Mel. The first since she’d initiated sex with me, and similar to it in that we’d head out to marshal training after eating with her family. The evening I was introduced as her boyfriend. Lounging within our post orgasmic haze before washing off the sweat and love juices we’d generated in a shared shower, she sat up.

“I know someone who lives near the Walker and the Guthrie,” she said. “Kenwood right?”

“A boy you know?” I asked. Boyfriend was never the right term with her.

“His mom. She’s really cool. Let’s us screw around in his old bedroom since he’s got a roommate at the U. We got to talking, which sounds weird, but was really nice. She’s friends with Connie Johns and a bunch of local artists since she works for the Minneapolis Arts Board, and she’s like an advocate for funding. I bet she’d let you two borrow a bed.”

“Why would she do that?” I laughed. “For some kid she never met? Unless you want to double date?”

“Charlie is pretty cute. Would that be a problem?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“What’s the problem?”

“You do tend to take focus.”

“I’ll take all your attention?”

“Maybe enough of a distraction...”

“Why don’t I check the Walker calendar to see if there’s anything in the auditorium. My mom’s a member. Give me a minute.”

She got out of bed and grabbed her robe from inside her closet and slipped out the door, closing it behind her. A couple minutes later, she returned, sitting on the bed.

“They’re showing dance films. A series connected to Noguchi’s show at the Walker. Though it looks like there’s other films besides Martha Graham.”

“Sounds cool.”

“Yeah. So I’ll see if Charlie can come see them with me, and we can meet in the lobby after.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Let’s grab a shower. Dinner’s ready soon.”

“Okay.”

Thursday with Sarah ended up being one of the better dates I would ever have. After a nice if simple meal in the restaurant in the top floor of the Walker, Sarah and I worked our way slowly down through the museum. She was refreshingly open minded about the diverse art we saw. Our opinions diverged on some things, but being a neophyte going in, she accepted my guidance on how to view abstract works, or works that were just large shapes. I made it clear from the beginning that it would always be a personal view, that everyone would see things differently, and if I was there to give her context, the artists being part of historical movements, ultimately it was up to her to see it in her way. I wouldn’t try to convince her she had to like it. Though I suppose if she didn’t like any of it, it might have been much harder to enjoy the date.

“So?” I asked her when we reached the lobby.

She pulled me against her, looking up and smiling. “I really enjoyed it, Joe. Thanks.”

“I really enjoyed sharing it with you.”

I lowered my head so our lips could meet softly. It was quick, what with being surrounded by people. Not a lot of them, but it definitely wasn’t a private moment. Nevertheless, both of us wanted more of it. It was the first kiss of the evening. The first real physical contact. We hadn’t even held hands. Getting to know each other I guess. Becoming friends.

“Should we look in the museum store?” I asked.

“Sure.”

Like in the museum we remained together sharing whatever took our interest. The unique jewelry. Books. Art objects. Posters. T shirts. Not buying anything. Just browsing, like it was a continuation of the museum.

It ended when Mel came up to us with Charlie, an especially beautiful young man. Not handsome or pretty. Beautiful.

I found out Charlie had been a model like Mel, and was interested in theater, studying it at the U, but was already a veteran since very young, having been involved with the Children’s Theatre. After the introductions, Mel asked, “Ready?”

“Is it true there’s a place Joe and I can go and... ?” Sarah started.

Charlie laughed. “Mom’s cool. With me and my sister when we were growing up, making sure explicitly about being safe. Her boyfriend too, who was like a surrogate Dad for us. Basically things have been pretty open sexually since I can remember.”

“Your sister must be beautiful if she looks at all like you.”

“She’s my twin, and yes. She’s a genius too. She’s in New York now. Columbia. Lives with that surrogate dad. Things are little complicated after that,” he chuckled.

“I have a fraternal twin too,” Sarah told him. “Though he’s kind of an asshole.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“This is me,” Sarah said at her car.

“Nice,” said Charlie.

“It’s practical. Four wheel drive. Fold down back seat.”

Everyone laughed.

“Could you unfold them?” Mel asked. “I parked in front of Charlie’s house. It’s like three blocks away, though uphill from here.”

“Sure,” Sarah smiled and had the back seat up in seconds.

We arrived not long after at a large, older corner house. Nothing special about it unlike the houses that surrounded the nearby Lake of the Isles that all seemed to have a contest about who created the most interesting architectural structure. Like those around it, it had a fairly large base, with two stories, four if the basement and attic were included, so four levels of windows: the basement sunken in and the attic below the eaves at the vertex of the peaked roof. Though the houses might have had similar qualities, age and basic size, they each had their unique appearance. This one had red brick walls at the lower part and pale green siding above it. An alley led to a two car detached garage. Between it and the back of the house was a patio that filled most of the backyard. Urban housing, even as prosperous as this area was, did not lend itself to large yards.

Sarah was directed to park in front, behind Mel’s Mustang.

Left of the entrance was a fairly large kitchen which, with a table that sat six, doubled as a dining room. At it sat a man whose face and arms, both long, made it seem as if he might be my height, and a cute bespectacled strawberry blonde woman who seemed to be much shorter. A tall blonde woman whose laugh lines made her look to be in the realm of forty approached us. A lovely woman.

“Show them where to hang their coats, Charlie,” she said. Being late March in Minnesota, the winter held on, though a brief warm-up had reduced the snow cover somewhat. Another reason to appreciate Mel’s suggestion of being indoors rather than in the back area of Sarah’s Jeep. “And if you wouldn’t mind removing your shoes.” The shoes also went into the entrance closet. “I’m Joanne by the way.”

Sarah and I introduced ourselves.

“There’s wine if you’d like,” she offered. “It’s just box Chablis, but not too bad.”

“Sure,” I said.

“Okay,” said Sarah.

“Hey Uncle Saul,” said Charlie to the tall man. “Aunt Cheryl. I didn’t know you were coming up.”

“It’s my turn,” Cheryl giggled.

“How’s Essie?”

“Beautiful and brilliant as ever. How’s school?”

“Okay. My roommate’s a bit of a cypher.”

“What’s that mean?” Saul asked him.

“Just really quiet. Doesn’t seem to have much of a life besides studying. He’s always in the room.”

“So no socks on the doorknob?” Cheryl giggled.

“I don’t think he’d know what to do with himself,” Charlie chuckled.

“You know you always have your room here,” his mother said.

“Thanks. Speaking of which. Early classes tomorrow.” He took Mel’s hand.

“Wish I had time to chat,” said Mel.

“You’re always welcome here if you want,” Joanne smiled. “With or without Charlie.”

“Thanks Joanne.” She walked upstairs with Charlie.

“Beautiful young woman,” Saul commented.

“She’s in high school, Saul,” Joanne pointed out.

“Just saying.”

Cheryl giggled.

“She’s an actress and a dancer,” Joanne added. “Took classes with Connie Johns.”

“Interesting.”

“She was Emily in Our Town,” I added. “And she and I are the leads in Pajama Game at our school.”

“When is it performing?” Saul asked.

“In about five weeks. Rehearsals started last week.”

“Saul’s a playwright and a producer/director among other things,” Joanne explained. “Every spring he puts on a show at the Southern under the company name of Morpheus.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ve heard interesting things about your shows, but I’ve always been in my high school musicals at about the same time.”