Chapter 3

Rich pulled his car into his parking stall. Gretchen opened the passenger door and retrieved her backpack and laptop from the rear seat. She followed him into his apartment.

"Rich -- why do you have a laptop if you don't carry it on campus?"

"I like that it's compact and without a tangle of wires. What are you in the mood for, dinner-wise? Do you like Chinese?"

"Do you cook Chinese, too?"

"No, but there's a place around the corner that delivers. I don't feel like working in the kitchen tonight. There's a menu on the refrigerator door."

She approached him with the menu in hand. "What's good?"

"It's all good. The chef trained in Taipei before coming here. Pick something you like and I'll pick something I like. We can share."

"I've always liked the General Tsao chicken," she said.

"Suit yourself -- but that's not authentic Chinese."

"What are you getting?"

"I like their bean curd in Hoisin sauce. Do you like tofu?"

"I've never had it."

"Then, General Tsao and tofu it is. I'll place the order."

Rich set plates on his kitchen table. He picked up chopsticks and regarded Gretchen. "You don't use chopsticks?" he asked.

"I never learned how."

"You never learned how? I thought using chopsticks was genetically ingrained in Asians -- an instinct."

"Sorry, it's not." She scooped some of the tofu with her fork. "This isn't bad -- I don't really care for the texture but the flavor is good."

"Not too spicy?"

She shook her head. "I like spicy food."

"Gretchen -- aren't you curious about your heritage? Don't you want to see the land of your birth?"

"I'm an American girl. I don't feel any draw to the old country."

"I'll bet you will. I'll bet some day you'll want to plant your feet on the soil that gave you birth."

"What about you, Rich? Where's the soil that gave you birth?"

"Right here -- I was born and raised in this town. When I travel, it's to get away from it."

She scooped some of the chicken. "You're right -- this is very good -- even if it isn't authentic Chinese."

"Yes, he does everything well."

"Rich -- have you ever thought about having more children?"

"It sounds like your train of thought ran through a switch set for the wrong siding. What brought that up?"

"I kept thinking of the photos you showed me ... of Miriam and Ricky. I sense your grief, Rich."

"It's easy for young folks to say, well -- just have another kid. Until you've held your baby, you can't know the bond ... or the depth of the sadness. I do have hope for Miriam -- though with Yvonne as her mentor, I don't have high hopes. As far as having more kids ... I'm afraid it's a bit late in the game for me in that regard."

"Oh, I don't know. You're still young."

"So, we've gone from old enough to be my father to you're still young."

"You're right, Rich -- you do think young. But, you're also seasoned and mature. I'll bet a lot of women would find you attractive."

"You're giving my ego a stroke under its chin -- right where it likes it. To be honest, before I decided to come back for my masters, I entertained the notion of getting a vasectomy and then going out and screwing as many women as I could -- to make up for the wild times I didn't have in my youth."

Gretchen reached across the table and put her hand on his. "That's not you, Rich."

"No. It isn't."

Gretchen sat at her laptop across the table from Rich. "I kinda like this arrangement," she said.

"What arrangement?"

"We both attended Professor Strumpf's Second Life class -- while we were sitting across from each other. We could make snide comments and remarks and no one could hear us."

"Provided your microphone is off," he said.

"Ohmigosh!" She manipulated her keyboard. "You were just trying to scare me."

"You're right -- it was fun tonight. What are you working on, now?"

"My proposal..." She worked her mouse and typed on the keyboard. "There -- it's finished."

"It's finished?"

"Yep. It's ready to go to Professor Strumpf." She glanced up at him. "Would you like to look at it?"

"Sure..." He walked around the table and regarded the document on her laptop. "This is very good, Gretchen -- better than mine in some regards."

"Better, how?"

"The writing is crisper ... and the layout more professional."

"I took a graphics design course last term."

"It shows ... you even made up a Team Alpha logo and letterhead ... and watermarked each page. It's an astonishing piece of work, Gretchen."

"What about the content?"

"It looks like you've covered everything. You picked a different vendor for the main app than I did, but that's no big deal. Inventory control systems are pretty much commodity items. And I see you made a stab at sizing the database conversion effort."

"How did you handle that?"

"I simply noted that it was an outstanding issue and without direction from the buyer we couldn't come up with a firm figure. Truth be known, that is a deficiency in Strumpf''s RFP. I think you're right -- she was setting a trap. I wonder if the other teams have picked it up."

"So -- what do you think? Is it worth an A?"

"Oh, definitely. I'd give it an A."

"I couldn't have without your help, Rich. I couldn't believe you were giving all that information to your competitor."

"Competitor? What do you mean? It's just an assignment."

"Don't you know? On this project, Professor Strumpf gives the top proposal an A, then second best a B, the third best a C and so on."

"Humph," he remarked. "I guess I missed that briefing. It makes sense -- in the business world, there is only one winner. The others go home to lick their wounds. Nobody goes around chanting, 'We're Number Two!'"

"One thing you'll learn about me, Rich," she said with her face in the air. "I am a fierce competitor -- fearsome. I take no prisoners ... give no quarter."

"I can tell that about you."

"I am going to own this project, Rich." She clenched her fist and shook it. "I am going to PWN it!" She regarded him. "Aren't you upset?"

"Well -- if you do take the top slot as the result of information I gave you, then it'll be my own fault. Besides -- I'll be delighted for you. It's an outstanding piece of work and it deserves that grade."

She smiled. "You really wouldn't mind the B slot?" she asked. "I'm willing to bet none of the others picked up on the data conversion piece. I'll bet you and I will be the top contenders just because of that."

"This only counts as a quiz," he replied. "I'm happy with a B for a quiz grade."

"What about the other members of Team Gamma?"

He chortled. "If we share a B, I'll bet it'll be the best grade they get from her all year."

"Well -- I am sending my proposal to her right ... now." She pressed a key on her laptop.

"I have some finishing touches, then I'm submitting mine."

"And, may the better proposal win." She extended her hand and Rich shook it. "But, I know mine is better!"

Rich sat in his car outside Gretchen's dormitory building. He saw her approaching at a fast walk. "Okay, I've picked up my mail. I never get anything interesting."

"No notes from your folks?" he asked.

"No. I get emails from my mom."

"Have you told her about the past week?"

She shook her head. "No -- I don't think she'd like the idea of me spending a week in a man's apartment."

"You're nineteen -- twenty next month. You can come and go as you please."

"I know. You have to realize, Rich -- my mom couldn't conceive. She and my dad invested a lot in bringing me here and raising me."

"As they no doubt never let you forget."

"Yeah -- I guess they don't. It's the parental guilt trip I guess."

Rich put the car in gear and headed toward the apartment. "I can't believe it's Saturday already. Chad leaves tomorrow and you're back to the old grind."

"I know -- the week went by so fast. I've had a great time with you." She pressed her hand against her belly. "I do believe I'm developing a paunch from all the good food."

"I doubt it -- you look like one of those girls who can't gain weight."

"Oh, how I wish..."

"Speaking of food -- I thought we'd celebrate this Saturday like we did the last one -- with pizza."

"Mmm ... No complaints from me."

He pulled into his parking stall and Gretchen followed him into the apartment. She sorted through the envelopes and flyers she had retrieved from her dorm mailbox.

Rich kneaded dough and put it into a bowl to rise.

"Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" he heard Gretchen cry. "RICH!"

"What is it?" He regarded the stunned expression on her face. "What's the matter?" She handed him a letter. "What's this?"

"It's from the dean of housing. Chad got caught -- or someone complained. Debra is blaming ME! She is claiming that Chad was MY guest!" She put her hand to her stomach. "There's more! I need to go to a disciplinary hearing on Monday." She began hyperventilating. "I could lose my scholarship. Oh, my God!" She paced around the apartment with her arms folded across her belly -- then she dashed into the bathroom. Rich could hear her vomiting.

She stepped out of the bathroom. "I'm sorry -- I get sick to my stomach when something upsets me like this."

"Gretchen -- get hold of yourself. There's no way they can make this stick. Chad couldn't be your guest -- you weren't in your room all week. I'll vouch for that -- I'll come to the dean's office and tell them you were with me the whole time. Then, Debra's claims won't hold water."

"I don't know. If I knew about it and didn't report it..."

"Do they really expect you to be Debra's watcher?"

"We're both responsible for what happens in that room. I could still face disciplinary action."

"Would they really take away your scholarship for something like this?"

"It's a president's scholarship -- from the school. When I accepted it, I agreed to maintain a certain GPA and not to engage in inappropriate behavior. If I lose it, my parents will KILL me!"

"I think that would be a real stretch. In any event, it doesn't make sense to worry about it now. Like I said, I'll come to the dean's office with you and tell them you weren't home and knew nothing about it. It'll be Debra's word against yours and mine. They can't make it stick." He opened his arms. "I think you need a hug."

She fell against him and lay her face against his shoulder. He held her until her breathing slowed. "Thanks," she said. "I did need that."

"Will you feel up to dinner?"

She pressed her hand against her belly. "I think so. Now, I have more room for it. It was only lunch from the union I threw up -- no big loss."

"Just don't make yourself sick again."

"I won't."

"After dinner, maybe we can go see a movie or something -- to take your mind off it."

"You'd take me to the movies?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Gretchen stepped from the bathroom in her light green cotton nightgown. She slipped between the sheets of the sofa bed.

Rich sat on the mattress beside her. "Thanks for paying so much attention to me tonight. It felt like a real date. It did take my mind off my problems."

"You don't have a problem, Gretchen. This will work out just fine." With his finger he stroked some stray hair from her face. "Sleep tight," he said. "I will miss you. You really..."

" ... dress up the dump," she replied. "You've told me." She smiled. "I'll miss being here, too."

"You're welcome, any time you'd like a change of scenery -- any time you'd like a break from Debra."

"Please, don't mention her."

He leaned and kissed her cheek, and she kissed his. He switched off the light and headed into his bedroom.

Rich sat in his briefs on his bed. He picked up a remote control and turned on a television to watch the news. A sound from outside his room caught his ear. He muted the TV and could hear crying.