Chapter 12

Sally didn't call me back until 1:30 Saturday afternoon. "I got in so late," she explained, yawning into the phone. "I was just exhausted!"

"Did you have a good time?" I asked.

"Oh, yes! It was amazing! Oh, Brian, you were so right about my needing to meet new people! Gregory is — well, he's just — remarkable. I wish you could meet him! Maybe we should all get together sometime!"

"Yeah. That'd be fantastic."

I could hardly fucking wait.

"You sound strange, Brian. Are you okay?"

"I'm just — remarkable."

"Do you want to hear more about my evening? Greg has this beautiful little car! It's a convertible! And it's..."

"God, Sally, I would never have believed that you of all people could be impressed so easily just because some guy is driving a fancy car! I mean, we can't all tool around in a fucking Porsche!"

"What is this 'tool around?'" Sally wanted to know.

"It's just slang. It means, like, driving around — maybe fast."


"How did you know that Greg had a Porsche?" Sally asked.

"Uh. I knew because you said so. You said he had this beautiful little Porsche."

"No I didn't. You said it was a Porsche. I didn't even remember the kind of car it was until you mentioned it. But I think you are correct. It was a Porsche."

"Well, I guess I must have heard about it somewhere. Maybe Alicia mentioned it. She's his sister, right? That's a pretty special car — even for a medical student from Stanford!"

"You were spying on me?"

"Spying? Of course not! Why would I do that?"

"I cannot imagine," she said.

"Spying on you! That's ridiculous!"

"Do you have lots of the school work this weekend?" Sally said.

"Not so much that we couldn't get together!" I said.

"I'm afraid that I am very late with my paper for History 101," she said. "But I miss you! Maybe we can get together during the week?"

"Sure!" I said, my spirits rising.

"How about Wednesday evening?" she said. "We could go out for dinner."

"Great!" I said.

Wednesday evening meant that by the time I saw Sally again, we'd have been apart for more than ten days! That was a new world's record! I think the previous record had been maybe three days.

I was losing her!

Wednesday evening finally arrived and when I picked Sally up at her dorm, I brought an enormous box of chocolates. Flowers won't do the job very well for a woman living in a dormitory, but candy! You can feed and impress the other women on your date's floor. I guess it was Sally's first such gift, and she reacted with a gratifying level of enthusiasm.

Maybe I hadn't lost her.

Yet.

I was attentive at dinner and doing my level best to make Sally remember all the good times we had enjoyed together that summer. I kept up the eye contact, held her hand, under the table or on the table, and generally made an ass out of myself, looking and acting like an adolescent on his first date.

Sally didn't seem to mind. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the extra attention.

"Do you suppose you could come over tonight — to the apartment?" I said as I was signing for the check.

"For a little while," she said. "But I cannot spend the night."

"That's OK," I said. "But I've missed you! But at least we'll have the weekend!"

"Well, not really," Sally said. "I was going to tell you. I — have another date. For Friday."

"But ... Friday's always been our night to be together!" I said.

"Yes, of course," she said coolly, "but here on the campus Friday night is 'Date Night.' It's the most logical time to get together with people, socially. And I've met the most interesting man!"

"Not Gregory?"

"Oh, Greg is very interesting also," Sally said, seeming to warm to the subject. "Greg is — quite a remarkable fellow! But my date for Friday — oh, my! He is what the girls in the dormitory call 'a hunk!'"

"A hunk?"

"Oh, yes! His name is Alberto Gonzalez. He is from Peru! He is on the football — no, not the football — what is it called? The soccer! He is on the University's soccer team! He is a wonderful football — soccer — player!"

Sally giggled. "Alicia says that he is a 'sixty minute man!'"

"So — you won't be seeing me this weekend?"

"Oh, Brian! I want to! Perhaps we can have a late lunch on Saturday. I could call you, if I don't get up too late. Or we could have — what is it called? The Sunday brunch!"