I was his personal cheerleader during every baseball game and he held my hand in the emergency room after I slipped on some ice a few winters back and broke my wrist. (Remember, I said I was known as Brooke the Klutz).
It was one of the hardest days of my life watching my Jay-Jay Bear pack up his Chevy Blazer before making the four hundred mile, seven-hour drive to his new home and away from my everyday existence.
But, even with the distance, we had already made it work for two years. He called me every night at eleven o’clock. I think in those two years we have only missed a handful of telephone dates. Really, those twenty to thirty minutes were the highlight of my day. I couldn’t wait to hear his voice each night before falling asleep.
I was relieved when I got back to the room and Cassidy told me I hadn’t missed my call from Jay. I figured I still had a few minutes to take care of my nightly routine before he called, so I padded off to the bathroom. I was in the middle of applying my face scrub when I heard the phone ring.
“Hey Jay-Jay Bear,” I heard Cassidy say as she answered the phone from the other room. “Hang on a sec. She’s getting herself all pretty for your nightly phone sex … I mean date.”
“CASSIDY! Shut up and hand me the phone. You ARE crazy!” I screamed at her as I grabbed the phone and plopped down onto my plush comforter.
Jay and I talked for about half an hour before he had to end our conversation to finish some mechanical engineering homework. I told him about my day, the sorority mixer and studying in the library; I didn’t mention Rich at all. Not because I was trying to hide anything … after all, I did loathe the guy, but I just didn’t see any reason to get Jay jealous about me talking, or studying with other guys.
He talked for at least ten minutes about the Yankees game. Evidently one of the players, a Derek Jeter or something like that, hit a grand slam against the Texas Rangers to clinch a playoff spot for his beloved team. I really couldn’t have cared less. I never understood why he loved the damn Yankees so much anyways. We both grew up just an hour or so from Detroit and I had always rooted for the Tigers. Well, honestly, I didn’t really care all that much for baseball in general, but if someone asked I would cheer for the “Old English D.” I guess Jay just liked to be different and since he had a number of relatives living in the Bronx, he had adored the Yankees since he was pretty much still in Pampers.
After hanging up, I decided to grab the latest issue of
US Weekly
before calling it a night. (Don’t judge me. … I enjoy my latest celebrity gossip). Cassidy was still over at her desk bopping her head to the beat of whatever bubblegum, boy band she was listening to and giggling at everything Sean Thompson tossed her way. I swear she was worse than a puppy about to get a Milk-Bone. If I listened closely enough I could probably hear her panting.
I think I fell asleep somewhere between reading about Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt’s honeymoon and the recent star athletes of the Sydney Olympics. I woke up the next morning with the crinkly magazine pages off to the side and my glasses still fixed on my face.
Fuck what time is it?
I looked at my clock and the red digits glared back that it was nine-fifty in the morning.
NO! NO! NO! Class starts in ten minutes and I didn’t finish writing my article.
I quickly ran to the bathroom: brushed my teeth, washed my face and tried to run a comb through my thick brown, tangled tresses. Since that didn’t seem to be working too well, I grabbed a scrunchie off the counter and twisted my hair into a half-knot on top of my head. Once I was finished in the bathroom, I ran to my wardrobe, grabbed a sports bra and cotton panties, threw on a faded pair of jeans and one of Jay’s baseball T-shirts, and slipped on the same flip-flops as the previous night, before rushing out the door.
I got to class right as Markley was taking roll call for the day.
Good thing our classes all start at ten past the hour. It never really made any sense to me until today.
I slipped into the empty seat next to Rich right before I heard Markley say, “Miss Anderson?”
“Present,” I called out.
Phew
.
“Here’s my article. Want to read it? We can trade,” Rich said, as he shoved some papers in my face.
Fuck, I was so busy worrying about making it to class on time I forgot about the damn article. Think … you need an excuse Brooke. …
“Sorry, Rich, I need until tomorrow. I want to head back to the library to do some more research before I let you see my draft. I want to make sure this is such a brilliant opinion that I even have you bowing down before me.”
Ha! Eat that, jackass.
“So, you flaked out and didn’t finish, huh? It’s OK, I figured you for the slacker-type anyways,” he harrumphed.
“Whatever, don’t be an ass, it’s not due until tomorrow, anyways,” I shot back. “Take a chill pill, will ya? Where do you get off anyways? … What the fuck is your problem?” I couldn’t help spewing off a series of insults … He really did know how to get under my skin.
“My problem is that I don’t have time for people who don’t take their work seriously, always so wrapped up in college drama. I came here to study and earn my degree so I can get a good job. People like you just waste my time.”
“Talk to the hand,” I said in my best Alicia Silverstone impression. I know it was stupid and immature, but I was so exasperated with this guy that I didn’t have any snappy comeback for him. “I’ll have my assignment when it’s due – tomorrow.”
I didn’t talk to him for the rest of the period; I just sat in the chair and stewed. I probably could have used the hour to write my damn opinion piece but this cocksucker really pissed me off. I wanted to smack him upside the head, but what I really didn’t want was for him to see the tears beginning to pool in my eyes. This guy would not get the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Finally, the clock above the door read eleven o’clock and I couldn’t get myself out of there fast enough.