Chapter 80: Jumping Ahead?

Saturday, February 5, 1983

The day started with lousy news. Predictable, but still lousy. Karen Carpenter had died yesterday (again, for me, I guess). I’d always felt sad about that, mostly because she’d had so much talent and it was both somewhat wasted in life and then lost all too soon to death. Part of me hoped that she’d find herself with a chance to do better for herself, but then I’d started wishing that for most people I liked who passed away.

Angie and I went out around lunchtime to put our Northwestern applications in the mail — hers, mine, Jasmine’s, Cammie’s, and Paige’s. I was both surprised, and not surprised, that Paige had decided to join us. She’d benefit from it, no question, and it’d be fun. If she and Angie were roommates, it might be much too much fun, though. I wasn’t at all sure they’d be able to keep from getting caught, which would probably result in their heading abruptly home.

But ... it’d be nice to have her there. Mel had talked about going, but she was still one of the shakiest of all of us as to her college plans. Maybe Journalism, maybe Communications, maybe Advertising, or perhaps English, or ... well. She had some options. She wasn’t doing any of the less ‘career-oriented’ programs (like Debate) and picking one of the others might imply that she’d made a decision.

I wouldn’t completely count her out, though. She’d get in if she applied, most likely, and I knew the idea of a long separation from Cammie wasn’t sitting well with her.

I got a quick call from Mr. Brandt midafternoon. He let me know that the papers were ready and he’d file them Monday. No sense waiting the extra four days, really — it shouldn’t materially affect the race.

I wished him luck and told him I’d be right there, helping, quietly. Which I would, of course. I really hoped he won — but I also hoped that, even if he didn’t, he put the focus of the School Board’s conservative members on something that had nothing to do with me, or Principal Riggs, or Memorial, or anything else I cared about.

After doing some homework, I gave Cammie a call and went over Riggs’ proposals. She wasn’t thrilled, but it fit right into our plan where we’d fight this like a war, not like a single battle. Seize some territory now, then see what we could take next year. The art of the possible, in other words.

In some ways, it concerned me that I was becoming so comfortable with ‘politics’ so quickly. I’d said before that Riggs was a politician, and that’s how this was playing out. Cammie was pretty much one herself. Mr. Brandt was, now. Tom Myerson perhaps was not, but he was that skilled campaign operative that every politician needs. And so on, and so forth. I’d helped on campaigns before, but this was different.

Maybe it was another path I should consider following? But, if so ... Steve, the politician? Steve, the behind-the-scenes operative? Steve, the even-more-behind-the-scenes donor/fund-raiser/manipulator?

And what would that mean when compromises had to be made, as they inevitably would? The bigger the stakes, the bigger the compromises, and sometimes one has to be very much of the ‘ends justify the means’ mindset to be able to play the game. As is sometimes said, ‘Don’t look too hard at how the sausage is made.’

Food for thought. I was (most likely) safe enough now, but the road to hell is often paved with good intentions.

Jas and I had our date, complete with much more than ‘seeing’. Dinner at a sushi place that was ... okay. I’d had much better, but of course that was a decade in the future and not something I could mention.

Then, bed, back at her house, where I could honestly say that, if I’d had much better, it was also with Jasmine. No complaints there, not for either of us.

Jasmine raised (not for the first time) a question that had been bothering both of us. Looking up at me, head on my shoulder, she said, “How are we getting through Northwestern without anything like this? I mean... I’m the one that said there’s always a place, and there is always a place. We’ll manage, physically. And before you say it, I am not going without you for that long! Yes, I’ll have girls around, including ones I know. Doesn’t matter!”

I chuckled. “Far be it from me to complain.”

She nipped my shoulder lightly, grinning. “Complaints are fine. Anyway ... that’s not what I mean, and I know you know it. I think it’ll be fun to sneak off into a back corner of the library or find the right bushes or whatever, but ... that’s not this. And we can snuggle with clothes on, but that’s not this either.”

“I have to go with getting the occasional hotel room. We can’t use them overnight, but if we pick the right time of day it should work.”

“That’s expensive! Well, I’ve heard there are places that rent rooms by the hour, but that sounds icky.”

“There wouldn’t be any in Evanston, and we won’t have access to a car. In theory, we could walk to the Evanston L station, take the L to somewhere where there would be cheap motels, check in, and ... well. Check out later, take the L back, walk back, and hope no one noticed.”

“Yeah, and ... no. Well ... maybe once. Adventure!”

“I’m virtually certain we’d get kicked out if they caught us. The same is likely true for a hotel in Evanston, but that’s maybe more of a gray area, because I’m hearing that we’re allowed to walk downtown, just not leave the Evanston area.”

She sighed. “We should be able to get a note from our parents saying to leave us alone!”

“The thing is, mine would sign one, but it’d be a very, very awkward conversation. There’s a difference between being pretty sure of something and being totally sure.”

“They’re totally sure.”

“Then ... between being sure, and having their noses rubbed in it.”

“I agree.” She sighed. “Still ... I’m addicted.”

“I am, too, honey.” I wrapped my arms around her a little tighter and gave her a squeeze.

“When we’re in col...” she started, then blushed and stopped.

“What?”

“I ... um. I was ... kinda ... doing it again.”

“I think I’d have noticed,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows.

That got a giggle, and another nip at my shoulder. “Not that! I ... um...”

“You were looking forward a year and a half and assuming that we’d be together.”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, yes! But also, no. That’s not it.”

I pondered for a second, and then it hit me. “You were jumping forward a step.”

“I ... think so?”

“Jas... when we’re in college ... would you like to share a liv...”

I was interrupted by a very, very enthusiastic kiss. One that went on quite a while, and which I was very much in favor of.

When we came up for air, she giggled. “Yes! That! Yes! Only I kinda almost said it without the ‘would you like to?’ part!”

“I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Well, no, but ... it should be a question, and now it is, and, yes, definitely, very much yes. I kinda thought you would, but you and Angie might have plans...”

“Which might be compatible. There are apartments with several bedrooms, or we might wind up renting a house or something.”

I didn’t add ‘Or buying a house,’ though it was definitely on my list of options. Most likely a house at any of the schools we were looking at would appreciate in value over the four years (or more if we stayed for graduate work) we would live there. If I’d had to worry about financing, that’d have been different, but ... I didn’t. We could always pay rent to ... Ang and me, pretty much ... without anyone else being the wiser.

Of course, a house in Evanston would appreciate, too. But buying a house just to give Jasmine and me (and Angie and Paige, and perhaps Cammie and Mel) a love nest would be a bit much. Now, if there was a summer rental...

It bore thought. How much would I pay in hotel bills compared to some off-campus student lodging going begging? And, would the staff notice if our ‘walk in the neighborhood’ took a couple of hours? I was pretty sure the answers to both were ‘no’, based on my first go-round experiences there. They paid attention, but had blind spots in places where no one would expect even crafty students to misbehave. What high school student would spend hundreds renting an apartment for a few months, after all?

But, then, how would I explain it to Jasmine? I was hardly as bad at dissembling as I’d been, but I still wasn’t always the best, and this was Jasmine, with whom I didn’t want to dissemble any more than necessary.

More things that bore thought.

Jasmine poked me on the chest. “Where were you?” she said, grinning.

“Thinking about how nice it’s going to be, honey. Before you ask, yes, I really mean that. And, also, you already know it’s more about times like this and less about times right before this.”

“Both, please! I really can’t wait. I guess I’ve been assuming that’ll happen for a while now, but ... um ... yeah. It needs asking, you know?”

She smiled, looking a bit shy, a bit vulnerable. I suspect her mind was on something else that I might ask. We both knew it was much too soon, but we also knew that agreeing to live together was a step in the right direction towards that other, much bigger, question. Not that we hadn’t approached the topic several times — we had — but this was a step. Actually living together would be another step.

And, of course, failing to do that would be a step backward, especially now that it was asked and agreed upon. But one cannot take a journey of a thousand miles without that first step, and one will never embark on that journey if one dwells only on the possibility of setbacks along the way.

We snuggled and kissed for a bit longer, but all too soon I needed to get cleaned up and head home. It wasn’t yet time for high school sleepovers. That might well happen before graduation, at the pace we were on — or it might not, out of deference to my parents, and perhaps to Camille and Francis, too.