Chapter 3

The next morning, my alarm went off at six. I lay there and stared at the ceiling as pre-dawn light filtered in through the blinds. For a while, I thought about Gina. I could understand why she was a little depressed, but I didn’t know what to do about it. And I could see why Kendall thought Gina might be upset about having to share me again.

Kendall, Gina, and I had only really spent time together—as a threesome—when we were at camp. And the world of Susan’s camp was different from the real world, the world of college and complicated relationships. I didn’t want Kendall to come between Gina and me, but by the same token, I definitely didn’t want Gina to come between Kendall and me.

So I had a dilemma.

Years before, when Gina had first suggested that we include Kendall, I’d told her that I wouldn’t toy with Kendall’s emotions. I loved both girls, very much, and I didn’t want to hurt either of them. I didn’t want to choose between them, either, and I fervently hoped I wouldn’t have to. If I ever did have to choose, it would tear the three of us apart.

I didn’t know what to do.

Finally, I shook off my maudlin thoughts and rolled out of bed. I looked across the room at my roommate’s empty bed and shook my head in bewilderment.

“How can two guys live in the same room and still miss each other all the time?” I asked myself out loud. Then, “Oh, great, now I’m talking to myself.”

I should at least have the good sense not to have these little conversations out loud, I admonished myself with a mental chuckle.

As I looked at myself in the mirror, I struck a few bodybuilder poses. Then I realized something. When I did have to start actually sharing my room, I’d have to stop sleeping in the nude. I didn’t have any problems if my roommate wanted to sleep in the nude—then I would too—but that wasn’t a conversation either of us were likely to start. Guys just don’t do that. And if neither of us brought it up, there was no way I was going to sleep in the nude. I didn’t want my roommate to think I was gay or something.

“Sorry, boys,” I said as I looked down my torso, “no more freeballing at night.”

With a chuckle, I wrapped my towel around my waist, grabbed my shower basket, and headed into the foyer. While I showered, I thought about my classes, and what I’d have to take with me. I also wanted to leave a note for my roommate. For Terry, I reminded myself. After all, the least I could do was return his notes.

I also thought about calling Gina to see if she was in a better mood. I thought breakfast with Kendall and me might cheer her up. But it was only six thirty, and I didn’t want to wake up her whole suite. In the end, I decided not to call.

Once I dried off, I slipped into my new flip-flops and flapped back to my room. Then I went through my morning routine. Finally, I got dressed.

I stuffed my books into my backpack, grabbed my class schedule card, and headed out.

Wait! There’s something I’m forgetting...

I set my backpack down, turned around, and searched for some paper.

Terry, I wrote, sorry I missed you again. I’ll be in class till 2:00. Hope to see you then. Signed “Paul.”

Then I taped it to the mirror.

With that, I grabbed my backpack and headed out to meet Kendall. By the time I got to Morrill Hall, she was waiting for me.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said. “I had to leave a note for my roommate.”

“You still haven’t seen him?”

I shook my head. “He didn’t come home last night. I’m beginning to believe he’s a figment of my imagination.”

She laughed, kissed me, and then deftly slipped under my arm as we walked into the dining hall. Since it was so early, the place wasn’t crowded. There were still a fair number of people, but we easily found a table near a window.

“Is that all you’re going to eat?” she asked when we sat down.

I nodded. I’d decided on a bowl of corn flakes and two pieces of toast.

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I just don’t wanna start gaining weight.”

“Oh. Okay. Make sure you get enough vitamins, though.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“I’m serious.”

“I know. I just don’t want to be fat again. Ever.”

“You weren’t fat,” she said.

“Okay, pudgy. But I still don’t ever wanna be like that again.”

“Then watch what you eat; don’t starve yourself. I’m serious, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“And I’m eating it,” I argued.

“Not much of it,” she said. “I’d be hungry if I only had a bowl of cereal and two pieces of toast.”

“I’m cool. Really.”

She looked at me skeptically. “Paul, I don’t care what you look like. I never have. I loved you even when you were ... pudgy.”

“But you like me better now, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, but...”

“See,” I said. “I look better.”

“You do, but it’s not all about that. You’ve got to be healthy too.”

“Okay,” I said at last. “What else should I eat?”

“At least have a piece of fruit or something,” she said.

“Okay, jeez,” I said. Then I headed back to the serving area and grabbed a banana.

“That’s better,” she said when I sliced it into my corn flakes. “Not much better, but better.” As I took a bite, she changed the subject. “What classes do you have this morning?”

“Calculus from eight to eight fifty,” I said when I swallowed. “Introduction to Architecture from nine to nine fifty, then American Literature from ten to ten fifty. After that, I’m off till one. What about you?”

“Well,” she said, “I’ve got classes at exactly the same times, but mine are O. Chem., ugh, Literature of the English Bible, and then Social Psychology. At one, I’ve got Philosophy of Feminism and then French. After three, I’m done for the day.”

“‘O. Chem.’?”

“Organic chemistry,” she said. “I don’t need it for my psychology degree, but I’m going to need it for medical school.”

“And ‘Literature of the English Bible’?” I asked. “What’s up with that?”

“I thought it’d be interesting,” she explained. “And it counts toward my English minor. Have you ever read the Bible?” she asked.

I shook my head and took another bite of cereal.

“It’s actually pretty interesting.”

“I guess,” I said. My family hadn’t gone to church when I was growing up. I wasn’t an atheist or anything like that, but I hadn’t found much use for God in my life. Or He hadn’t found much use for me, if you want to look at it that way.

“Reading the whole thing isn’t for everyone,” she said, “but I think you’d like some of it.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like the Song of Solomon,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because it’s pretty erotic.”

“In the Bible?” I asked, trying not to choke on my corn flakes.

“Mmm hmm.” Then she leaned closer. “God created us with all these nerve endings and the ability to feel pleasure,” she said. “Don’t you think He had a purpose when He did?”

“I dunno. I guess I never really thought about it.”

“And He gave us the ability to reason, and to fantasize. I can’t imagine that He’d want us all to be nuns. Or monks,” she added.

“Sounds good to me,” I replied. “Like I said, I guess I never thought about it.” Then I paused as she took a bite of her toast. “So that’s your schedule for the day?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Since we’re both out of class from eleven till one, do you wanna have lunch together?”

“Sure.”

“Where’s your ten o’clock class?” I asked.

“HSS 122,” she said after glancing at her schedule.

The Humanities and Social Sciences building.

“Humanities?” I mused as I looked at my own schedule. “I’m in American Lit., in HSS 210. I’m just upstairs from you.”

“Why don’t we meet by the bull fountain,” she suggested.

“Is that really what it’s called?”

“It’s actually Europa and the Bull,” she said, “but most everyone just calls it the bull fountain.”

The plaza in front of the HSS building and McClung Tower had a fountain with a large sculpture of a goddess riding a bull. The first time I saw it, I did a double take, since the bull was anatomically correct. That’s right, big bull balls.

“I’ll meet you there after my Social Psych. class,” Kendall continued.

“Cool.” Then I looked at my watch. “We’d better get going.”

She nodded.

“Where’s your first class?” I asked. “O. Chem., right?”

“Buehler. On the back side of the Hill.”

“Oh, cool,” I said. “My Calc. class is in Ayres.”

Ayres was on the very top of the Hill, which rose above the rest of campus. Because Kendall and I were heading in the same direction, we could walk to class together.

“Every year, I forget how much I hate this hill,” Kendall said when we reached the top of the last set of stairs going up the Hill.

We were both breathing a little heavy.

“At least it makes your legs look good,” I said.

She smiled and then impulsively kissed me.

“Thanks,” I said.

Then we headed toward Ayres. I kissed her goodbye and told her I’d meet her at the fountain after my American Literature class.

For a moment, I simply admired the architecture of the red brick building. The bell tower rose above the quad, standing at least sixty feet high. With a deep breath, I headed inside. Upstairs, I found my classroom and quickly took a seat. Then I looked around at the handful of other students who’d arrived early. Most of them were guys, but there were two girls there as well. I studied the other people for a moment and then decided to leaf through my textbook. As I flipped through the pages, other people came in and found seats.

Finally, the professor came in. He was a compact man, with glasses, blonde-turning-to-grey hair, and clothes that were several years out of style (complete with a white leather belt).

“Hello, everyone,” he said as soon as he arrived. Then he set his things on the desk, turned, and began writing on the chalkboard. “I am Professor Tow. That’s Tow,” he said, pronouncing his name again, “like the Greek letter tau, not like my big toe.”

We all chuckled at his lame joke.

“Welcome to Math 1550, Basic Calculus,” he said as he wrote the name and section number on the board. Then he turned to us and picked up his roll book. “First, let’s see who’s here and who’s not,” he said.

And that was the beginning of my college career.

Near the bull fountain, I snuck up behind Kendall and then covered her eyes with my hands.

“Guess who,” I said.

“The love of my life?”

“Yep!” With that, I took my hands off her eyes and turned her around. “Hi,” I said.

Her face lit up with a smile and then she kissed me. “Hi yourself,” she said. “Where do you want to eat?”

I shrugged. “Morrill or Presidential.”

“The food’s usually better at Morrill,” she said.

“Okay, Morrill it is.”

“How were your classes?” she asked as we walked.

“Pretty good. My Calculus professor’s kinda goofy; he kept telling corny jokes. He’s okay, I guess, but he’s definitely a math nerd.”

She nodded.

“My Intro to Architecture professor is this guy named Spielman. He talks like a New Yorker, but he’s easy enough to understand. I’m really gonna like the class. When he passed out the syllabus, I scanned through it and kept thinking, ‘cool!’”

She chuckled at my enthusiasm.

“My American Literature class is gonna be a lot of writing, though,” I said. “I think I’ll enjoy it, but my professor is some kind of leftover hippie.”

“Feller?” Kendall asked in surprise.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“I had her class last year,” she said.

“English 2530?”

“Mmm hmm, American Literature. She’s seriously flaky, but she doesn’t grade real hard. She’s one of those people who doesn’t want to make anyone feel bad. The guy who sat beside me spent the entire time flirting with me, and I don’t think he read a single one of the stories. He still made a C.”

“People like that bug me,” I said.

“The guy? Or Professor Feller?”

“Both. But mostly Professor Feller. I mean, if you don’t do the work, you shouldn’t get the grade.”

“I agree, but I was taking French, Western Civ., a Psychology class, and two Women’s Studies classes, so I was happy to have the easy A.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll be happy to have an easy grade too, but still.”

“I know what you mean,” she said.

By then, we’d reached Morrill. Since it was still a little early for lunch, we sat on one of the benches outside.

“Did you talk to Gina last night?” Kendall asked.

I shook my head. “I guess I didn’t feel like tempting fate.”

She nodded.

“I met my suitemates, though.”

“Oh? What are they like?”

“I dunno ... they’re hard to describe, I guess.” Then I told her about meeting T.J. and Glen. “I don’t think Glen, the big guy, said a word the entire time I was there. T.J. did all the talking. And I couldn’t really tell if he was just sarcastic or just an asshole.”

“Hopefully, he’s just sarcastic.”

I nodded.

Then she looked at me sidelong. “I’ve really missed you,” she said.

“I’ve missed you too,” I said as I took her hand.

“I’ve missed that too,” she said with a guilty smile, “but I’ve really missed just talking to you.”

I nodded.

“There’s something serious we’ve got to talk about, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said. She sounded resigned.

“What?” I asked.

“What do I call you?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Are you my boyfriend? Are you just my friend? Are you just a guy I know?”

“I’m your boyfriend,” I said immediately.

“I know, but what do I tell people when I introduce you?”

“Tell them I’m your boyfriend,” I said.

“What if Gina’s with you?”

“Tell them I’m your— Oh. Yeah, I guess I see what you mean. People will ask a lot of questions if they figure out I’ve got two girlfriends.”

She nodded. “For some people, though, it’s a moot point. Abby ... Viv and Phoebe ... Bridget and Toni ... they all know you as my boyfriend. But what do I tell other people?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” I said.

“When we’re at camp,” she said, “everyone pretty much knows who we are, so we don’t have to introduce ourselves. But here...”

“Yeah.”

“So,” she asked quietly, “do I go back to being your second girlfriend?”

“No, “ I said. “You’re my girlfriend.”

“But that still doesn’t change the fact that you’ve got another girlfriend.”

“No, I guess it doesn’t.”

“She was your girlfriend first,” Kendall said, “but...”

“I know, and I don’t want you to play second fiddle,” I said, finishing her thought.

For a moment, I pondered the problem. I wanted to treat the two girls the same, but that would actually cause problems. I was pretty sure Gina would get upset if Kendall became my girlfriend-in-name, but Kendall seemed a little upset too. At least Kendall had the level-headedness to actually talk to me and look at things from both sides. Gina, on the other hand ... well ... Gina was Gina.

“We can say you’re my best friend,” I finally suggested. “I mean, you are...”

“But that’s not the same as your girlfriend.”

I shook my head. Then I looked up hopefully. “Well, how many people are you and Gina likely to both meet?”

“How about your roommate?” she asked.

“I haven’t even met my roommate.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry.”

“And I’m sure he won’t be the only one. So, what should we do?”

“I really don’t know,” I said. “I mean, I want to tell people you’re my girlfriend. But by the same token, I want to tell people Gina’s my girlfriend.”

She nodded.

“But I’m not going to play favorites,” I said earnestly. “That’s something I promised you I’d never do, and I’m not going to start now.” Then I shook my head in frustration. “I mean, why can’t I tell people I have two girlfriends?”

“Because you can’t,” she said.

“But why?”

“Because it breaks society’s norms.”

“So? I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do,” she said evenly. “And so do I. We do other things outside of the norms of society—nudism for one—but we don’t tell ‘outsiders’ about it. This is the same.”

“I know,” I said sullenly. “I guess I just don’t have a solution and I want the problem to go away.”

“It won’t.”

I shook my head. Then I put my arm around her. “In my heart, you’re my girlfriend,” I said. “That’s all that really matters between the two of us.”

She nodded.

“And when we meet new people, I guess we’ll just have to wing it.” When I looked at her, she didn’t look surprised, but she didn’t look pleased either. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing. I don’t have a better answer either.” Then she looked at her hands. “You’re trying to keep two women happy, and I guess it’s not easy.”

I shook my head. “It’s worth it, but you’re right, it’s not easy.”

“And before,” she said, “I would’ve been happy to be in the background. But now...”

I nodded.

“I guess maybe I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

In spite of myself, I chuckled.

“What?” she asked, her eyes welling with tears.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that you are the same person I fell in love with, only better.”

She wiped her cheeks but didn’t say anything.

“You’re more confident now,” I said. “I can’t explain it, but you are. You’re not the scared, insecure girl I first admired from afar.”

“I’m definitely not her anymore,” she said with a sniffle.

“You’re still just as smart, just as beautiful, and just as sexy, but now you’re also ... self-assured.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“And if I have to deal with Gina, I’ll deal with her,” I said. “She’s really a considerate person. She can be kind of childish at times, but I guess I can too. And she’s not a bad person.”

Kendall nodded in agreement.

“So some people will know you as my girlfriend and Gina as my best friend. She’ll just have to live with that.”

“She didn’t seem upset when I slipped and introduced you that way to Vivian.”

“She didn’t say anything about it to me,” I said. Then I looked at Kendall and smiled. “But if some people know you as my girlfriend, others will know Gina as my girlfriend and you as my best friend. Can you live with that?”

“I guess I’ll have to,” she said.

“I wish I had a better solution,” I said, “but I don’t.”

“I know. I don’t either.”

“It’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“I hope,” she said with a feeble smile.

“It will.” Then I hugged her tight. When I looked at my watch, it was almost twelve. “Did you still want to get something to eat?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I guess I’m just not hungry anymore.”

“Me either,” I said. Then, “Where’s your next class?”

“Humanities.”

“Mine’s in the A&A building.”

She nodded.

“We’ve got time to go back to your apartment for a little while,” I said.

She looked up and raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t think we have time for that,” I said. “I want to take my time when we do.”

She nodded.

“But we can hang out for a little while.”

Another nod.

“I don’t think I’ve even felt you up since Sunday,” I said in an effort to lighten the mood.

“No,” she said with a soft laugh.

“Let’s hope Abby’s in class, so we can shack up in your room. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

“And I can convince you that you’re the most important girl in the world.”

“More important than Gina?” Then she immediately shook her head. “Sorry, that wasn’t a fair question.”

“You and Gina are important to me for lots of reasons,” I said. “Sometimes, the reasons are the same—I love you both—but sometimes, they’re very different. Gina’s ... well ... she’s Gina. But she also knows me better than most anyone else in the world, including you. You can read me like a book, but sometimes I think she knows what I’m going to do before I do it.” At that, I paused to gauge Kendall’s reaction.

Unfortunately, her face was an inscrutable mask.

“My life is a lot better because of Gina,” I continued after a moment. “My grades, for instance. To be honest, I wasn’t the greatest student before she moved to Atlanta. I wasn’t a bad student, but I wasn’t anything above average. She saw something in me that even I didn’t see, I guess.”

“I saw it,” Kendall said softly.

“I know you did, but Gina was in class with me, and doing homework with me. She was never pushy about it, though. She just expected me to do better, because she knew that I could. And I did,” I said. “She gave me a lot of help, too. I mean, Spanish is a good example.”

Kendall cocked her head to the side, so I explained.

“I had a hard time in Spanish class,” I said. “But since Gina had taken so much Latin, she could figure out Spanish and help me. She didn’t criticize me or even complain about helping me with my homework on top of her own. She just did it. She just taught herself Spanish. And as she learned it, so did I.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

“You wouldn’t, unless I told you. That’s the thing about Gina. She doesn’t brag. I mean, I’m pretty sure she speaks Spanish better than I do. And I took two years of that chingada language, while she never had a single class.”

“Then how do you know she speaks Spanish?” Kendall asked.

“It took me a while to realize it,” I said. “I finally figured it out when we were in Europe. She and Tomás—that Spanish guy we met on Ibiza—they spoke Spanish most of the time they were alone together. Annika and I were out on the balcony one night, and all the doors were open, so we could hear Gina and Tomás talking. They were having some serious discussion in Spanish, and I could barely understand what they were saying. But Gina was careful never to speak Spanish in front of me. At first, I was a little jealous, because I thought she was hiding something from me. But then I realized that she did it because she didn’t want to make me feel stupid.”

“That’s because she loves you.”

“She does. I know she does. I see it in the way she looks at me. I see it in the way she treats me. Sure, she sometimes takes me for granted, but she’s not jealous. And she’s not really possessive. I mean, how many girls do you know who would share their boyfriend with another girl?”

“Not many,” she said.

“Exactly. And in that regard, I’m pretty lucky too. Heck, she’s seduced more girls than I ever have. That’s every guy’s wet dream.”

“So why do you need me?” Kendall asked softly.

“Why do I need you? I can think of a million reasons, but the most important one is that I love you.”

“But I’m not adventurous or always horny.”

“Actually, you are. You’re just more reserved about it. Some of your fantasies are pretty wild. They’re exciting, too. I’m sure Gina has fantasies, but she doesn’t really share them with me. Not like you do.”

“She doesn’t?”

I shook my head. “But here’s the thing,” I explained. “With Gina, I guess I get worn out sometimes. So while you might not be as horny as she is—I don’t know if anyone is—sex with you is really, really good. It’s definitely a quality versus quantity thing.” Then I gazed at her earnestly. “With you, I can relax and be myself. With Gina, I always have to be on my toes. Sometimes, my relationship with her is like a wrestling match: a whirlwind of motion and emotion, but if I let my guard down for one second, I’ll end up flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me.”

She nodded.

“And like I said, sex with you is ... well ... it’s fantastic. Why? Because I don’t have to worry about what you’re gonna do next. I mean, I know we can take our time and enjoy ourselves, because you won’t get upset if I don’t do this or that. Gina and I make love, but most of the time, it’s straight fucking. With you, it’s almost always making love, and I enjoy that.”

She quickly looked around to see if anyone had overheard me. Fortunately, no one was nearby.

“So I love you both,” I continued, “for a lot of the same reasons. But you’re very different. Do you see what I mean?”

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“In many ways, you’re so different that I can’t really compare you.”

“Even though that’s what you just did?” she asked. Then she flashed me a teary grin.

“I guess,” I said with a bark of laughter.

“Do you mind if we don’t go back to my apartment?” she asked.

“Sure. Why?”

“I just want to sit here with you,” she said. Then she lowered her eyes. “Will you just hold me?”

“I’d be happy to,” I said as I hugged her. When I buried my face in her hair, I kissed her. “See what I mean?” I asked, my voice muffled. “With you, I can relax and be myself.”

“Good,” she said. “Because I want you to be happy. And I love you.”

“I love you too. Very, very much.”

My one o’clock class was Architectural Design, and I’d been looking forward to it all day. The class was mostly guys, but there were a few girls scattered here and there. I found a seat toward the middle of the class: not up front with the brownnosers and not in the back with the slackers. Then I studied the people around me. Their expressions ran the gamut from nervous to bored to excited to clueless. While we waited for the professor, I daydreamed about accepting the award for Architect of the Year.

My pleasant—and completely unrealistic—reverie was interrupted when the professor practically burst into the room. With an almost palpable sense of energy, he strode to the front of the class. Then he turned, clasped his hands behind his back, and simply stood there. He was tall, with iron-grey hair and a stern face, and as he surveyed the class, we grew quiet. When the susurrations finally died down and he had our complete attention, he scanned the classroom, his eyes briefly coming to rest on many of us.

“My name is Laszlo Joska,” he said with simple finality.

He had an odd accent, and pronounced his name “yosh-ka.”

“This class is Architecture 1006, Design,” he continued. “If you’re not supposed to be here, please be kind enough to leave quietly.” When no one did, he continued. “Good, most of you think you should be here. I doubt you’re all correct in that assumption, but that remains to be seen.” Then his lip quirked up in a half-smile. “For the next twelve weeks, most of you will hate me. Let me tell you right now that I ... don’t ... care. That’s right, I don’t care.”

Several people looked around nervously.

“I am not here to make you like me,” he continued. “Architecture is a serious business for serious people. And I will tell you right now that many of you will never become architects. That’s right, you will change your major or you will quit school altogether. I don’t care about that, either.” In the shocked silence, he surveyed the class again. “But those few of you who do have the talent and determination to survive the next five years will become the builders of civilization.”

When he paused, several people nodded. I was one of them.

Then Professor Joska spent the next twenty minutes telling us how difficult the class was going to be. He spent the last half-hour talking about our projects and what he expected. He sounded like a ruthless perfectionist. And judging by the jam-packed syllabus and the number of projects we’d have to complete, the class was going to be a lot of work. Oddly enough, I couldn’t wait to get started.

After class, I headed back to the dorm. Kendall was in class for another hour, and Gina wouldn’t get out of class until almost four. So I had a couple of hours to kill.

As soon as I stepped off the elevator on the fourth floor, Cary, my Resident Assistant, looked up. He was holding a clipboard, and it seemed like he was actually waiting for me.

“Ah,” he said, “you’re 415D, right?” Then he scanned his list. “Oh yes, Paul.”

“Um ... yeah?”

“I thought I’d missed you.”

“Missed me?” I asked.

He nodded. “I just did your roommate’s room inspection.”

“You mean you’ve actually met my roommate?” I asked in surprise.

“Of course,” Cary said. “He just got on the elevator. That’s why I was standing here.” Then he cocked his head to the side. “You mean you haven’t met him yet?”

“Nope. We’ve left each other several notes, but...” I indicated the other elevator with a toss of my chin and a shrug. “I guess we’ve always managed to miss each other.”

“Oh dear. Well, you’ll meet him soon enough.” Then he gestured with his clipboard. “Are you ready to do your room inspection?”

“Sure, I guess,” I said.

On the way down the hall, I wondered what a room inspection consisted of. Would he go through my things? Would I have to prove I didn’t have pot or booze? Would I have to turn my head and cough? At that, I chuckled softly.