Chapter 13

Sally returned my call me at 3 p.m. Saturday. I got the yawn-in-my-ear again. Must have been a late night.

"I was hoping we could get together," I said.

"That would be great," Sally said.

She sounded like she really meant it, so I forged ahead. "How about dinner tonight? And then you could stay over."

"I don't know, Brian. Lots of homework."

"What is it? History? English? I could help you with it. I'm a whiz. I know my history. And I speak English like a native."

"It's Spanish," Sally said.

"Spanish? I didn't know you were taking Spanish."

"Well, I am," she said. I thought it was foolish to study French, as I'm already fluent. So I signed up for Spanish."

"That'll come in handy for your conversations with Alphonso, there."

"Alberto, his name is."

"Yeah. The sixty-minute man."

"You sound — jealous, Brian."

"Jesus H. Christ, Sally, of course I'm jealous! I'm dying here! I've seen you for — what? A fucking half-hour in the past — what? Two weeks? I'm missing you something terrible!"

"But Brian! You're the one who told me, over and over again, that I had to get out and meet new people. You said I had to find out what life is all about. You said I had to make up for lost time. You said I had to sample what was out there."

"Yeah, I know. But I didn't realize."

"You didn't realize — what?"

"I didn't realize how much it would drive me up the wall, seeing you with other guys. And the guys! Jesus, you couldn't find some ordinary nerdy little freshman from Omaha to go out with, could you? Noooooo! You had to find Gregory Prescott, All-American Doctor-Boy! And was Gregory Prescott and his fucking Porsche good enough? Nooooo! You had to have the sixty-minute man, Al-fart-o, from Ecuador."

"Peru."

"OK. Peru! What's wrong with Omaha, anyway?"

"So. When you said I should go out with other men, you meant only with men who weren't as attractive as you."

"No! I mean, okay, so maybe I did mean that. I admit it. Sally, I'm going nuts, here! I really meant what I said — that you needed to meet more people — even guys! I was really scared that I was just going to like, dominate you. Take you over."

"And now when I finally follow your advice, you get angry."

"I'm not angry, exactly. But I'm jealous! I mean, couldn't you just go bowling with some guy from your dorm? And couldn't it be on a fucking Thursday night? And couldn't a guy you meet be under six feet once in awhile? Maybe have a pimple on his chin? Maybe drive a Chevy?