Читать книгу Experimental College - Glynda Shaw - Страница 2

“So, this is McMahon Hall!” Mom exclaimed. "The thing must be twelve stories high!"

She and I debarked from Dad's Scout International into the wet. As Dad moved along to find parking, we crossed pavement and swung through the hissing double doors into the dorm lobby.

"I guess we'll try over here to this counter?" Mom suggested, leading me past an idling television set nobody seemed to be watching. "Excuse me Miss, our son is checking in this evening."

"Room 304," I put in.

The student on duty shuffled some papers. "Three oh four?" she echoed.

"Yes," I confirmed. My room assignment had come in the mail toward the end of last Quarter.

"Okay," she seemed to be talking in my direction, a big point in her favor. "Can you sign here for me please?" I could and did.

“Here are your keys and your meal card.”

"Thank you," I said, reaching for the square little envelope before Mom could.

"Now you'll be going up the North Elevator, right there(obviously pointing)."

“Thanks,” Mom and I said together. Mom made her usual attempt to get hold of me. I withdrew my arm and took Mom's elbow. Dad reappeared, having found a cart somewhere and was going back to the Jeep for the first load of my stuff.

Mom and I took the elevator to the Third Floor.

"Well," she said, "here are rooms 304 to 308. I guess yours is inside somewhere."

I extracted the pair of keys on their little ring from the envelope. The first key fit the outer door. I opened and held it.

Mom stepped in ahead of me. "Wow," she said. We've got one, two, three rooms on this side of the suite here and it looks like another one, two three rooms over on the other side (her voice receded). Here's the bathroom over across from room 308 and here's a rec room and a balcony. This is pretty snazzy, Kid!" Mom retraced her steps. This is room 304," she said.

"Is that yours?"

"Right," I told her.

Mom pushed open the door. "Oh," she announced, “you've got a room mate."

“Hi," said a nice-sounding voice, maybe a bit light in the timbre. "I'm Duncan."

I thought he might be a bit younger than me. "Dave," I said. "My Mom."

"Oh," he said. Duncan had taken up the window side of the room and didn't seem to be exactly pleased that he'd have company this Summer. This would change.

Dad arrived a few minutes later with the cart and the first of several loads. Mom was still fussing about wanting to help me put things away.

"I've got all evening," I said. "I'd like to be able to find stuff."

"You always have to be so blasted independent!" Mom started up, an old, old song.

Twenty minutes or so later, Dad trundled in behind a final cart full of boxes. “Here's some powdered doughnuts for you to share with your roommate, Buddy," Dad said, slapping the package into my hands. "The two of you behave now!"

At last, he and Mom were gone, leaving us to make tentative passes at getting acquainted.

"What do you do for fun?" Duncan asked.

"Oh," I said, "I drink a little beer now and then (meaning every chance I got), and go on dates when I have time."

"Going out with girls?" Duncan asked.

“Well yeah," I said. The subject seemed to drift then.

"Do you smoke?" Duncan asked next.

"I used to smoke cigarettes," I told him "but I pretty much gave it up when they started costing too much."

"What about pot?"

"Never really have," I told him.

"Oh--” he made a disappointed noise.

"Not as if I've never had the chance," I added as if that mattered somehow. "I've probably had my share of second-hand smoke." This wasn't exactly adding up to a scintillating conversation.

A little while later another boy arrived whom Duncan obviously knew.

"An L-shaped room,” he gushed in what was a surprisingly girlish voice, at least so I thought at the time. "How do you rate? an L-shaped room!"

Our room was one of the two larger in the cluster. It sort of wrapped half-way around the elevator shaft which served our end of the building. Duncan and Tom talked for some time in near whispers until the later took leave, having some prior engagement it would seem. Moist sounds were exchanged between them, then Duncan said "Well, goodnight girl."

Later Duncan went out, saying he needed to check out the undergrad library. That left me alone in the room so I decided I should use part of the evening to familiarize myself with the immediate surrounds.

Grabbing my cane I went first to the nearest door, walking around the U shape of the cluster to the other side, the door nearest the bathroom, checked out the facilities. Two showers, two sinks, a toilet stall and a urinal. I reemerged, crossed through the rec/common room, slid open the glass door stepping out onto the balcony. It was damp but fresh and peaceful this time of evening. In a couple days muscle memory would take over I knew and I'd be able to move pretty much on automatic. This place would start feeling like home. For now it just felt sort of lonely. Coming back indoors I let myself out of the cluster into the hallway. First I made sure I knew the location of both stairwell and elevators, then did everything over again. On my second return though, a door was open just across the hall from me.

"Well hello," a sweetly solicitous voice trilled. "Are you searching for something?"

"No. Just looking around a little."

She giggled as if I'd said something funny. "Getting oriented to the building?"

"Yeah," I agreed. "Practicing up for tomorrow."

“Good idea," she enthused. "Do you know your way down to the lobby and the breakfast place and all that?"

"No," I admitted, "but I figured I'd best learn up here first then I can go on."

"Well," she said, "My name's Ellen by the way, I'm going down to do some laundry and I'd be glad to show you around a bit--if that wouldn't interfere with your self-orientation plan I mean?"

"That would be nice," I said, because this building was more complex than the one I'd lived in Spring Quarter and I'd gained relatively little on my way up with my Mom. Then I added

"You've got laundry to do on the first evening?"

Again she laughed. "Oh, I stayed here through interim break (the week between Spring and summer quarters) so I'm already moved in. My roommate is arriving tomorrow and she's kind of a neatnik."

"You've met her before then?" I said.

"Yes, we were together over in McCarty Hall last year. Her name's Janice."

"Oh," I said. "By the way, I'm Dave."

"Nice to meet you Dave. Do you take my arm? I'm not really sure how this works."

I took her right elbow in my left hand, so my thumb and fingers wrapped the arm from behind. That way you can feel the other person's body movements as she walks slightly ahead of you.

"There's Braille in the elevator," Ellen told me, moving my hand to the double row of buttons each with it's dotted identifier.

"I must say it's totally amazing how you people get around on this big campus."

"You mean engineering students?" I asked.

"First we'll go down to the lobby," Ellen said, ignoring my little jibe, "and I'll show you how to get to the front door. How's that sound."

"Great," I said. "I know this building is right across from Communications so I should be able to get where I need to go tomorrow morning."

"And where's that?" she asked. "The CMU Building?"

"Electrical engineering," I told her.

"Good heavens!" Ellen expostulated. "Okay (as the elevator door slid open). We're in the lobby now. The front doors are pretty much right across from us but there's a tricky thing about this building. It's built in two parts, towers they call them so there are two sets of elevators. One goes up to one tower and one goes to the other so if you were to go up the wrong elevator you'd end up in the wrong part of the building so you might think you're going to your room but--”

"Got it," I laughed. "I can see the problem."

"I guess you just need to feel the wall to the right of the elevator you're using to make sure you're going up the correct shaft."

We walked to the door, opened it, stepped across the walk to the curb. "Communications building," Ellen announced. "is a straight shot across the street from here but the entrance is a little off to the left." I acknowledged the observation.

"I'm standing here with my laundry bag under my arm," Ellen remarked. "Mind if we go downstairs and put in my washing then I can show you where the dining room is?"

"Of course," I said having nothing better to occupy me this evening and still feeling new and frankly anxious. We returned to the elevator going down two levels.

"This is the basement," Ellen said. The laundry rooms are down here and it looks like a lot of utility stuff for the dorm too." A washer door creaked open on it's hinges and I heard clothes plump in, then a second machine' now a third. Obviously a gal who separates her fabrics I reflected. The scent of detergent powder wafted into the air. Water hissed filling washers.

"That'll be about fifteen minutes," Ellen told me. "Let's go look at, I'm sorry, I mean explore the dining rooms. There's one place for early breakfast then a bigger place for lunch and dinner."

We bumped up the elevator, only one floor and I practiced a couple of times making my way across to the now locked dining room. "You've been in the dorms before?" she asked.

"In Terry Hall," I told her.

"So you know about the meal cards and all that."

"Oh yeah," I said, and patted my shirt pocket.

"Fine," Ellen said. "You know what, I think the little snack bar is open. Want to get something to drink while we wait on my wash?"

"Sure," I said. This is feeling rather domestic, I thought. "May I treat?"

"I'd not refuse," Ellen informed me.

I paid for two large soft drinks, one diet coke, one with lead and a large bag of cheese puffs to split. We sat on a bench outside of the snack bar which itself was little more than a cubby hole with a grill and probably a cooler of some sort. We talked about siblings, me two sisters, one younger, one older. She three sisters, all younger.

"We're both used to being around girls then," Ellen commented.

Majors, me Bio cum Astro Engineering, she Nursing.

"Janice, my roommate, is oceanography bio option," Ellen said. "She's sweet, I really like her!"

When the laundry was due to be finished Ellen excused herself, running down stairs this time to throw things in the dryer.

Returning, "So what do you do for fun?" Ellen inquired.

"Oh," I said, feeling like I'd been through this once tonight, "I read. I write. Go to parties now and then. I like going to plays too."

"With anybody special?" she asked "A girlfriend or...?"

"I date," I said, sounding a little defensive in my own ears, "but I have a pretty heavy course load so I guess I don't get out as often as I might."

"Might if what?" she asked a bit coyly. "If there was somebody special?"

"Probably so," I admitted having no idea where this conversation was going. Was she coming onto me?

"So currently just sort of exploring," Ellen said, making it a statement.

"How about you?" I countered. "Anybody special?"

"Oh I think we're all special," Ellen temporized. "Don't you?"

"I imagine," I said.

"Imagination is important," Ellen quipped.

"You've got a room mate," I said, meaning it as a joke.

"Don't you?" Ellen asked.

"Yeah."

"Is he nice?"

"I really don't know yet," I told her. "We just met this evening."

"Oh, what's his name?"

"Duncan," I sold her.

"Duncan," she said. "Did he live over in Haggett Hall?"

"I don't know," I admitted.

"What does he look like?" Ellen began then cut herself off with a self-conscious titter. "I'm sorry, how could you know? You couldn't, could you?"

"No."

"Well," Ellen used that sweet tone I'd heard when we had first met. "You never know."

I didn't respond to that.

I sprung for two more cokes then it was time to collect the drying.

"Mind waiting while I fold?" Ellen asked.

"No."

"I'll just borrow this laundry basket and bring it back down later."

"Need help folding?" I offered.

"I've got it," she said. She turned and doing so brushed lightly against me. She made no comment. Neither did I. Was I expected to respond in some way or was this just an accident?

"Whups," Ellen said, bending, to retrieve something from the floor. "Here," she placed something silky and still warm in my hand. "See if you can fold these."

I nearly dropped the pair of underwear on the floor from whence they'd been retrieved. I folded them as precisely as I could and extended the little square to her.

"You can keep them," she said, "to remember me by. Besides, you might need them when you go exploring?" Her amusement sounded quite genuine.

I'd thought she was only joking with me but Ellen was clearly preparing to depart so I stuck the panties into my pocket and "Let me carry your basket for you," I offered, taking it from her and cradling it in my left arm, managing to keep my cane ahead of me.

With Ellen acting as if nothing had happened and perhaps to her nothing really had, we went back up toward our rooms, I leading the way this time.

"Goodnight," Ellen said, taking her basket and patting my arm.

"Goodnight."

Finding my abode still devoid of roommate, I went to the bathroom, washed up, returning to peel down to my shorts and tee-shirt for exercises then climbed into bed.

"Good morning," Duncan said sleepily as I slid off the elevated bed platform and began the 110 push-ups to which I'd built since the previous summer when I'd discovered I was woefully out of shape.

"Good--morning" I panted back. "I didn't hear you come in last night."

"You do push-ups every morning?" he inquired.

"Yeah."

"That's admirable," Duncan said. "I don't think I have that kind of ambition."

I accepted the admiration as droplets of my hard-earned perspiration plopped on the bare tiled floor. I took a dip in the shower and returned with a towel wrapped kilt-fashion, finished drying and got into yesterday's clothes.

A few minutes later Duncan returned from his shower. "I'm going to open the window," he announced. "This deodorant is really strong." He demonstrated by overwhelming the room with an acrid cloud. "It's probably a women's deodorant," he added. "My mother gave it to me."

"Oh," I said, made able to breathe again by a sudden breeze wafting through the window.

"Are you ready to go down to breakfast?" Duncan asked.

"Yes," I said, glad he'd brought it up I'd have asked if I had to but it's nice to be invited.

"Just a minute," he returned. "I've got to put my contacts in." He said the phrase 'put my contacts in,' with sort of a breathy rush which made 'contacts' sound like 'kotex.' (There, that was an image.)

"Were you in Haggett last year?" I inquired, remembering as we stepped out into the dining level Ellen's question last night.

"I was, Fall Quarter," Duncan said. "Then I moved over to Lander. Why?"

"Oh," I said, "I met a woman last night who thought she might have known you over there."

"Lots of people did probably," Duncan said with a breezy air.

Breakfast was varied and reasonably plentiful. Scrambled eggs, Pershing rolls, sausage patties, fruit cocktail and several kinds of juice. We loaded trays and Duncan showed us to a table which disappointingly appeared to harbor only other young men.

"Hi Duncan!" a pair of boys across the table from us hailed my roommate. "Which floor are you on?"

"Third North," Duncan said, not introducing me, but chattering away with his friends about others not present and various activities in buildings I seldom if ever visited.

A guy with a central european-sounding accent seemed to have said something upsetting to his neighbor or roommate and quelled an angry retort with "That's your problem." Duncan continued animatedly until after I'd been finished for five minutes or so and finally said "Well I've got to go. You ready yet, Dave?" I got up without comment, holding my tray in one arm, taking Duncan's elbow with the other hand.

"Good-bye," the foreign-sounding guy said.

I smiled in his direction. "Have a good day."

***

I made a bad start by being late to my first class, an Electrical Engineering 306 lab. Fortunately, timing wasn't paramount in this more or less self-paced summer session course offering for non-majors. My lab partner Jack and I would watch fairly brief video-recorded lectures from a professor named Potter who never put in an appearance, and on the basis of these and the text book, we'd attempt a series of experiments. The first lecture was on electrical and magnetic fields. Electrical fields emanate from stationary or "static" charges, magnetic fields from charges in motion. We then measured electric and magnetic field intensities first from charged plates then from an electromagnet.

My next class was Social Psychology. In this first session we discussed the fact that we'd be going into more depth regarding some of the things we'd learned in the intro 101 course. We'd focus on the research techniques used to study group behavior and their results so far as could be interpreted. This class had a double purpose for me: I was studying journalism as well as engineering and needed twenty credits in one social science as a prerequisite for this. My engineering studies were intended to address issues of human beings working with and living within technological systems and I felt a grounding in psychology would also be pertinent here. My next class would start at 1:30 in the afternoon.

I made it back to the dorm for an early lunch. My meal card allowed me 19 meals, so I could have lunch five days a week and let the remaining four punches see me through the weekend.

I was eating alone when a familiar voice addressed me from across the table and two chairs pulled out more or less simultaneously. "Hello," Ellen said. "Have you done your laundry yet?" (A little giggle.)

"Most of it," I said straight-faced.

"Goood," she enthused. "Meet Janice, my roomie."

"Hi," said a voice maybe an octave lower in pitch than Ellen's.

"Hello," I responded around my turkey sandwich.

"Is your roommate nice yet?" Ellen quipped.

"He's okay I guess," I said. "We've only talked a few minutes so far."

"Well," Ellen responded "Give him a chance. Nothing like a long, leisurely evening to get acquainted!" Both women seemed to think this was quite amusing.

"O--kay," I said. Then when the laughter continued, "What?"

"I saw you two at breakfast," Ellen said, getting control. "He's the person I'd seen in Haggett. Sure. He's a nice guy. Give him a chance!"

"No problem," I said.

"Before midterms start happening," Janice put in. "We're having a party. This weekend."

"In our cluster," Ellen added. "Do you think you and Duncan might be interested in coming?"

"Don't see why not," I told them. "Maybe come by and let me know when?"

"A deal," Ellen said. We killed the next 20 minutes with more small talk and I had plenty of time to make it back across the street, to the communications building where I had my afternoon news writing class.

I considered my primary major to be engineering but had determined early on carrying a second one in communications, editorial Journalism option. The university of Washington didn't recognize minors except in some special cases such as teaching. Had I been able to declare a minor I'd likely have done so, but as things stood, maintaining both majors was the only way to have something official to show for the fairly intense work that goes into coherent expression of information and ideas on paper.

There were maybe thirty of us in Communications 320 News writing I. Each desk had it's own typewriter each of which would log considerable mileage before end of quarter.

"I'm William J Johnston," announced our instructor, a venerable fixture in this department. He had the somewhat bluff manner of one used to talking with strangers and discovering things not always gladly rendered. Between paragraphs he breathed somewhat heavily with a slight wheeze. Johnston tended to sip coffee during lectures. He'd only speak about a third of any given class.

"Folks usually call me BJ," Johnston continued. "I worked for twenty-three years on The Seattle Times as a reporter. At some point I realized that clarity in reporting and journalistic excellence was flagging; is flagging. I left the work I loved to help new people learn to write as well as they possibly can. I challenge you to write as well as you are able and when you can write better than that, to do so!"

Professor Johnston paused for a moment to scan our group. As always I'd find, he appeared to center on me but I'm sure everyone else felt so as well.

"At some point," he resumed, "it won't happen today or tomorrow. It may not happen this quarter or even before you graduate, but some day you will get hold of the idea of excellence. You will make a commitment to yourself that everything you write will be the very best piece on that particular topic that you are currently able to write."

Not everyone will write in the same way nor should he. Matthew, Mark, Luke and John all covered the same story but each told his story differently. However each of us chooses to report a story, there are basic rules, basic principles according to which we work and by which we live as journalists. These will comprise the present course. Sometimes you'll dislike me. Sometimes you will be sick of me because I'll always be here looking over your shoulder and I'll always be available to help you get the most that you can out of this class."

Sipping noises and the waft of caffeine, because at this moment BJ was standing about four feet in front of my desk.

"There's a pile of yellow copy paper up here on the front table," Johnston informed. "We use that for in-class exercises. There is also a pile of white typing paper which you are free to take for final assignments and submissions to the Daily or other publications. With each article written out of class, you will use a carbon and make a copy on yellow copy paper. Now I see we have typewriters for everyone. Please write me an article on what I just said."

Praise God that I've taken notes, and I've been typing since third Grade! I quickly examine the machine in front of me see it's close enough to the typewriters I used in high school to answer. I roll in the sheet of paper from a stack being passed around and write.

(Matthew, Mark, Luke and John covered the same story, said BJ Johnston, instructor, in news writing 320 class on June 18, 1974 "but each told his story differently."

Professor Johnston said that after working 23 years at the Seattle times he had chosen to leave active reporting and instruct student writers in order to help them become the best writers they can be. Johnston stressed excellence in writing and informed students that though they might not always appreciate him, he will be constantly available to help everyone get the most possible from this class.)

I was feeling rather smug because quite a few typewriters were still clacking as I sat, my hands folded on my desk, my article squared with the left front desk corner. Finally Johnston said "Pass papers forward and to the right please." A pile materialized on my desk. Johnston grabbed the stack, riffling through it.

"The name is Johnston," he said, "Not Johnson. As reporters you need to learn to listen." A few moments later "Because someone teaches a course at an university," he said "doesn't mean he has a doctorate. I may be Professor Johnston but I'm also Mr. not Doctor Johnston."

Some more time went by. "You may have been taught in high school journalism class Junior year," he said "to use all five of the Ws and the Have in your story lead. (Certainly I had!) In professional news writing three of the Ws and H are sufficient!" (I began to feel a little less smug.)

More lecturing followed after which, "Please pair up with your nearest neighbor and between now and next class session you will each interview the other and each present an article in final draft form written from your interview."

"Hi?" said a voice at my left elbow. "My name's Irene Richmond?"

"Dave Price," I reached an hand across. "Nice meeting you."

"I think we've met before," Irene said. "But for the life of me I can't place where at the moment?"

"Do you have time to co-interview now?" Irene asked. "Would you like to go to the library or...?"

"My room's across the street," I told her. Neither of us thinking I believe that anyone would take any issue with this suggestion.

We crossed the street and rode the elevator up to the 3rd floor.

"Would you like to go first?" Irene asked. So I spoke of my high school experiences and my science and technology studies here at the university. I mentioned wanting to raise a family, perhaps have a farm to live on some day; while working as a consulting engineer, from home if possible.

Interjecting, Irene said "I wonder sometimes what's going to happen to me. I'm very unlikely to get married. I have very bad acne and I doubt anyone would choose to be with me."

"You probably just need to find the right person" I said, knowing my response was cliched as I uttered it.

Irene responded with "People are very judgemental about things like this." Sadness radiated off her yet there was acceptance in her voice.

It would seem trite to suggest that a blind husband might be what she needed. That sounded like a putdown but I suspected she might well benefit from the notion.

I'd said about what I needed to about my background and felt Irene could get a balanced story now. As we were about to switch to her story, or perhaps, continue with it, Duncan came in.

"Hi," he said and to Irene "I'm Duncan."

"Irene," said Irene. They exchanged nice-to-meet-yous.

"I'm going over to the bookstore in a little while Dave," Duncan told me. "Do you need to come?"

I acknowledged that I did. I'd learned by now that it's not a good idea to buy your books before the first day of classes because at least one prof is sure to add something, delete a book, or go some entirely different direction with course material.

"Dun-can is a nice person," Irene said when the door had closed behind him going off again on some other errand.

"Yeah," I said, "he is."

"He's taking you to the bookstore later?" she asked as if the point might be in doubt.

I admitted this was also true.

"Have you known Dun-can (she said it like Dun can) before this quarter?"

"No," I said. "Just met last night."

"But he's your roommate?"

"Yes."

"Hmm?" Irene said. "That's interesting."

I confess at the time I didn't know what was so interesting but perhaps Irene was a person who was easily fascinated. We went on to discuss Irene's earlier college work, her time in public schools, her decision to return to college and hopefully be a magazine editor someday.

"Now I recall where I met you." Irene said. Worth McClure Junior High, room 214, 1968 I believe?"

"Oh yes!" I said, recalling in a flash the large experimental social studies classroom, capacity about 120 students. Irene had been one of the teaching assistants. Then she was a grown-up, a faculty member. Today even at her rather elevated age of 27, she was, well--a fellow student.

"Do you go out on dates?" Irene asked with another sudden twist of topic.

"Yeah, I do."

A hesitation, "With girls you meet here at college?"

There may have been the merest stress on the word girls. "Mostly," I told her. Actually I couldn't recall dating anyone not from this campus except Zoe who'd been in my high school before going to North Seattle community college.

"Well, you and Dun-can will be going to the bookstore pretty soon?" She rose. "I'd better get home myself. I've got a lot of studying to do and this is just the first day."

"I know what you mean," I agreed. "Thanks for the interview."

"And you." I got up, opened my room door for Irene, preceding ber to the cluster door, holding that for her. "Gee," Irene said, "I'm amazed at how you find your way? How long did you say you'd been blind?"

"Since I was five," I told her.

"I'm impressed."

***

The University bookstore was jammed, being only the first day of the summer term and our various study areas were widely separated. Duncan was generous in helping me find the texts needed for my three classes and having nothing more important to do I accompanied him on searches for his various language books.

"Oh," he said, pique evident in his voice. "This book is forty dollars! I was told I could get a used one cheaper but they're all gone!"

"Have you run out of money?" I asked as some response seemed in order.

"Oh, yes!" he replied. "My parents will send me money later but I need it tomorrow!"

I did some mental arithmetic. "How much are you short?" I asked.

"Twenty dollars," he said.

"I can lend it to you," I offered. "Put it on my account." The book allowance associated with my scholarship had been untouched until now and there was about twenty-five extra left in there.

"Oh really?" Duncan exhaled in relief. "That is so nice of you!"

We settled our scores at the check-out desk and slung U-bookstore bags over our arms.

"That was so nice of you to lend me the money," Duncan said at least three times on the return trip to the dorm. "I'll pay you as soon as I can!"

We made it barely in time for dinner and again and we sat at the all boy table. As I ate and he chattered I reflected that Duncan had mentioned his father was a noted pediatrician. Why, I wondered was the son of a Doctor so short of funds?

I felt a touch on my shoulder. "Hi Dave, Hi Duncan."

"Hi Ellen." To Duncan, "this is my friend Ellen from across the hall. To Ellen, "this is my roommate, Duncan."

"Hi Duncan," Ellen repeated. "See you Friday!" I'd hoped she'd sit down to tip the gender balance a bit but she had places to go.

"Hey Duncan?"

"Yeah?" Duncan replied his voice indicating he was turned toward the window.

"Do you go out on dates very much?"

"Well I suppose if I find the right person. No, really I have so much studying to do I'd have to say I don't go out very much--now."

"Oh," I said. "I was just wondering. That girl Ellen, invited both of us to a party Friday. I'm supposed to tell her if you'd like to come."

"Where's the party?"

"In her cluster," I told him.

"Oh," he said sounding nonplussed for some reason. "I don't know."

"Well," I said, "she and her girlfriend are both pretty nice." I'd speculated on Janice, really knowing nothing much about her nor for that matter, of Ellen and why hadn't I said roommate?

"Girlfriend?" Duncan inquired.

"Roomie," I corrected.

Again, "Oh, well, maybe some other time."

"Okay." It seems to me that free refreshments probably, and something to do on Friday was worth at least some risk. "I got out seldom enough myself but if you can't party the first week of term, when can you?"

"You know Dave," Duncan said a few minutes later.

"Yeah?"

"I'm gay so all of my relationships are with men."