PAUL WESTERBERG
PART FOUR: FRIDAY NIGHT (2nd section)
TRACEY
As we made our way from Witte to State
Street, Heather was quite reticent. She seemed to be deeply in thought. I began
conversation with her that ended up falling limp and I couldn’t help but to
wonder if it was me. Maybe it is. I know that I’m nervous but maybe it’s just
that simple for her too. It just feels strange to be on a date walking down
State Street with the setting sunshine dancing around her hair, essentially
alone together.
I’ve already asked her if everything was OK,
to which she muttered something about that girl Abbey—who it turns out is not
her roommate even though she seriously acted as if it was her room. It
practically took bribery to even get her to leave! Anyhow, I don’t want to seem
like I’m clingy or overly insecure by asking her again but…
I’m feeling like I should let it go.
We keep walking. She’s just not talking and
I really don’t know what to do. Look, play a game with me for a moment, OK?
Let’s just say that we make it through this night and all goes well…so well
that at some point, I become her boyfriend. If Heather tends to shut down like
this, then what kind of boyfriend would I be if I couldn’t figure her out at all?
I know that I’m getting way ahead of myself…again…and more than I have any
right or reason to be. I haven’t date very much at all. Now this is not by
choice, mind you. It’s just the way it has worked out for me. Jesus…is it me?
HEATHER
Keep it together…keep it together…
TRACEY
What am I doing wrong? It must be me.
HEATHER
Keep it together…keep it together…
TRACEY
What’s wrong with me?
HEATHER
Keep it together…keep it…huh?
Without even a hint, Tracey lightly grabbed
the elbow of my right arm, spun me ‘round and pulled me right into The
Puzzlebox. “Sorry about that,” he said while looking rather intensely through
the gorgeous Spring Break themed teddy bear window display that greeted and
always kept State Street happily in awe. At exactly what he was looking at, I
have no idea at all. “I’ll explain,” he said looking at me again.
“I should hope so,” I responded, speaking
the first real words I have said since leaving my room and what felt to be an
hour ago even though it wasn’t nearly that long. “Not that I’m complaining,” I
added to assure him that I wasn’t mad. In fact, I probably should’ve thanked
him for snapping me out of…whatever.
I turned from Tracey to look around the
Puzzlebox and instantly, I felt calmer, more centered. Seeing all of the bright
but not garish colors, the collection of classic toys mixed in with games,
greeting cards, trinkets, little baubles and of course, puzzles just took me
back. I loved doing puzzles growing up. It was always like a mystery just
waiting to be solved. It was always an invitation. Whenever I figured out one
mystery, my parents would supply me with another one, sometimes hiding hem in
the house for me to find them, therefore making a mystery to find the mystery.
I love those puzzle mysteries because they keep my mind working, it’s solitary
and there’s always a definitive answer. But, then, there’s other kinds of
puzzle mysteries that don’t have definitive answers and being solitary about
them is not nearly as much fun. Guess which mystery I’m puzzling through now.
Tracey’s handsome face filled my field of
vision, returning me to this moment, this night He had a sheepish look on his
face, almost conspiratorial and he was about to let me in on the secret.
“Would you still like to head to the
Esquire?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, offering him a smile
signaling that we were good.
“OK. Let’s go. I come from a family who
just happen to be habitually late for movies. I don’t know how many movies I
saw growing up where we’ve missed the first reel and a half and we’ve had to
stay to watch the beginning in the next showing. I refuse to continue the
tradition. The cinema awaits, Heather Harrison and I’ll explain our spontaneous
detour along the way.”
TRACEY
“Heather,” I began with a vocal flourish
akin to an announcer readying himself to verbally produce gold. As we stepped
out from the Puzzlebox and back into the night air I continued, “I want for you
to take a look down State Street, pointing towards campus and please do tell me
if you see anything remotely unusual.”
“Do you mean aside from that man with the back pack and the headphones wailing
along with whatever he’s listening to, either real or imagined?” she questioned
more than amiably and with a taste of that certain something I remembered from
the day of the blizzard.
“No Heather,” I answered. “That man is
precisely what I wanted you to see and furthermore, he is exactly the reason
why we dashed into the Puzzlebox.”
“I have a feeling that this one going to be
a good one.”
“I’m not certain about that but it will at
least be different. But quick! Turn back around and let’s get moving before he
sees us!”
Heather agreed and as we turned to face the
Capitol, she quickly looked directly at my eyes and offered me a soft gaze that
disarmed me just as she had before. Maybe things will be OK after all?
HEATHER
I do like you, Tracey. Please try to see
that.
TRACEY
“It’s time I shared with you the story of
my evil twin. However, it is unfair for me to refer to that man as ‘evil’ as I
know nothing of his character,” I began.
“Definitely,” said Heather. “Because you
know what they say about those who assume.”
“Yes, the unidentifiable ‘they’ or ‘them’,”
I responded. “So let’s just say that this is a tale of odd coincidence about
myself and my doppelganger.”
“Mmm…how German of you,” Heather snickered
and as her eyebrows shifted from furrowed to a position of upright alertness,
she grabbed my arm—which sent a charge of electricity through me, awakening all
of the butterflies. “Your doppelganger, huh? You mean that guy we saw on State
Street?”
I grimaced audibly.
“You know…I thought that he had this odd
resemblance to you but I just waved that away.”
“You can feel free to wave it right back because
you are not alone with that observation,” I said.
“My curiosity is at full peak.”
“OK…here goes. It all started early this
year actually. I went into Science Hall for my English class—itself a
curiosity—on a Monday morning. Now, I should have realized that something about
the day was going to be more than a little odd because of one specific element:
I was running late.”
“And I’m to presume that you hate being
late, hence the speedy importance of making it to the movie we’re heading to?”
“Absolutely! Yeah, for whatever reason, I
woke up over an hour late that day, leaving me with about 20 minutes to get
myself ready for class—and remember, I live in Lakeshore.
So, I just barely washed up, brushed my
teeth, grabbed a Mountain Dew and hot footed myself down Bascom Hill to Science
Hall when I popped into the room with about three minutes to spare. I plopped
down in my seat and started rummaging around my stuff when I noticed that this
one girl was just staring at me. So,
I stared right back at her as if to say, ‘What?!’ and then she said, ‘I’ve seen
you!’
‘Well, I should hope so as I’ve been
sitting next to you this whole semester,’ I said. And then, she said, ‘No! I
mean—I’ve seen you outside of here, this class! But, it’s easy to not make the
connection since you’re so quiet here.’
I really had no idea of what she was
getting at and my expression must have read that because then, she asked me,
‘Aren’t you that MASTER Rapper in the Union?’”
For the very first time that night, Heather
Harrison laughed, a long, throaty and hearty laugh that felt to echo all around
the Capitol Square as we approached the Esquire. “WHAT?!” she practically
choked out between gasps of laughter. “What did she even mean by that?!”
“At the time, I just didn’t know! I could
guess, I suppose. I mean--I knew that she didn’t mean like someone in food
service, so all it could’ve meant was that she thought that I was some kind of
M.C., which just astounded me. But don’t call Jesse Jackson in my defense just
yet because she wasn’t alone.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah…and the weird thing is that before
that first day, nobody said anything to me like that and soon, it was all of
the time. In class after class, people kept coming up to me and asking me
essentially variations of that first question and every time, my answer was the
same and my confusion only increased because I really had no idea of who all
these people could possibly be mixing me up with. When it got weirder was when
people didn’t ask me anything but just…reacted to who they thought that they
were seeing. I started getting strange looks from people in public and in class
and not nice ones either. One time, I was in the Shed, waiting in line for
dinner and I’d just come in from studying at Steenbock Library so I had my
headphones on and I was still listening to music while I was in line. I guess
that I must have been moving a bit to the groove because the girl in front of
me turned around as if I had accidentally bumped her—which I may have done—but she
looked at me as if I had groped her—which I definitely did not do. I’m telling
you, this girl looked at me with such disgust, such venom, like she would’ve
slit my throat or something that it really unnerved me. I nearly walked out,
thinking that I would just eat later.”
“But you didn’t did you?”
“No. I stayed. But as I ate, I kept
replaying that girl’s look and just the intensity of it. I mean—nobody has ever looked at me like that and I
couldn’t figure it out.”
“What if she was just racist?”
“I did have that thought cross my mind for a
flash. But, I honestly didn’t pick up that particular funny vibe. Besides,
people aren’t typically that overt or bold—at least, that’s been my experience.
Thankfully.”
“Really? Why is that as I obviously wouldn’t
know? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”
“It’s cool. I’d rather you ask than not.
But…well…it’s like this. In my very first week on campus, I was walking by U
Square Four and this car drove by along with the rest of traffic and this voice
shouted out ‘NIGGER!’ from the car window.”
Heather stopped cold in her tracks for a
moment, even though we were just a block away from the Esquire. Her face had
contorted into a mixture of disbelief tinged with disgust. And I have to say
that I was glad to get further confirmation that she’s on my side. “What did
you do?” she asked with clear concern.
“Nothing. The car was driving by, you know?
I wasn’t gonna take off after it like Riggs in ‘Lethal Weapon.’ And really, how
upset could I be with some stranger shouting out a racial epithet—albeit the
worst word in the entire English language—from the window of a speeding car?
How brave is that? If that is as overt as it can be, then I can pay that no
nevermind.”
HEATHER
By the time we reached the box office, the
night had final begun to feel a bit more like the day of the blizzard to me. It
was all starting to feel so easy, so natural…even though Tracey was doing most
of the talking. And actually, that was more than OK because at first, I wanted
to keep hearing his “Doppelganger story” and secondly--maybe most
importantly—it gave me time to re-collect myself.
Tracey told me more of his story while we
waited in line, got inside and while we thought about getting some popcorn and
drinks—something I was glad that we chose not to get as I was already beginning
to get anxious again and this time about things like my…oh well…my breath just
in case he came close to me after eating popcorn and then, did I even want for
him to come close anyway. And if he did, what if I didn’t have any gum with me
and he came close and was struck dead by my popcorn breath or what if he came
close to me and then I didn’t want him to but maybe I do want him to but what if he’s not even thinking about this at all
and…
STOP!!!!!!!
Just…stop. Just for a moment. Just stop and
take a breath again…
We’re going into the theater and finding our
seats. Soon, we’ll watch the movie but in the meantime, I need to re-engage.
“So,” I said quietly after clearing my throat which was beginning to feel dry,
making me wish that we did, at least, get some drinks. “What happened next with
your doppelganger?”
“Well…everything
and nothing really,” said Tracey. “I just went about my business. I went to
class and still did all of the things that I normally do. But seemingly
everywhere I went, people kept looking at me strangely or with this same sense
of scorn or disgust and I just did not know why. Until…the day I saw him.”
“What?
Where??”
“Right
in the middle of Discount Records!”
“Oh no!!
“Oh no!!
“Yup.”
“What
did you do? How did you even know that it was him?”
“When
I saw him, Heather, it all just clicked into place inside of my head—like the
answer was just out of reach and I finally grabbed it. And in a way, it was
good that I saw him then because I knew that I wasn’t crazy for feeling
paranoid that people were looking at me so oddly or with such distaste. Also, I
then knew that those people weren’t crazy either for thinking that I was
someone else because there he was, just paces from me. I have to tell you that
the whole ‘MASTER Rapper’ things was kind of true because he had his headphones
on and he was whooping and scatting along to whatever it was he was listening
to—that is if there was any music playing at all! I’m serious, Heather! He
sounded like an isolated James Brown vocal track. Really, just imagine James
Brown with NO band. That’s what this guy sounded like.”
“That
is hysterical!” I snorted—yes snorted. I have to say that in that moment, I was
again beginning to feel a bit like who I was. I was finally laughing again,
laughing just like the day of the blizzard. “I’m sorry,” I corrected myself
while trying to stifle my chuckles. “This certainly wasn’t hysterical for you, of
course. But it all sounds so absurd! Did you have a ‘When Worlds Collide’
moment with him?”
“That
was exactly what I was trying to avoid!” Tracey explained. “You see, after
dealing with this issue for months and months, I have to admit that it started
to freak me out a bit.”
“How
so?”
“Well…and
this may be hard to describe because it’s not quite an identity crisis or anything
but in a way, it is. I know who I am, of course. But, if everybody thinks that
guy is me, well…then who am I? I mean—this moment in the store really creeped
me out—real ‘Twilight Zone’ kind of stuff—because just watching the guy in the record
store, I could not fathom how anybody would mistake me for him. But regardless,
they did. So, it’s weird and all but I had the crazy thought that as long as he
and I never made eye contact, then everything would be OK. Annoying but OK.”
“And pray tell, what would happen if the
two of you made eye contact?”
“Well, that’s obvious…I would cease to
exist. Or the universe would end. Either way, absolutely nothing pleasant.”
“Goodness. Let’s make sure that never
happens then,” I said purposefully sweetly.
“I’m doing my best and that is why we
high-tailed it into the Puzzlebox.”
“Well, I greatly appreciate you saving me
from a fate of cosmic oblivion or from, at least, being stood up in case you
vanished into this air.”
“Sure. But, how do you even know that I’m
not him sitting next to you right now?” he teased.
“Oh, I know that it is you, Tracey Wolf. I know
for two explicit reasons. First, you explained your story with a ‘Twilight Zone’
reference and not with a “Body Snatchers’ reference, so it would be impossible
for the two of you to have changed forms for him to have rendered you physically
and spiritually irrelevant, especially as you both have not made eye contact.
Secondly, and furthermore, how could I not
possibly recognize the really nice guy who gave me change to call my parents at
the onset of a flash blizzard?”
I need for Tracey to know that this night
is important to me. As important as I am just hoping it is to him and for whatever
weirdness I have already shown tonight, I really like him. I need him to know
that I like him. I smiled at Tracey, as softly as I could muster and I placed
my hand on his arm.
The theater lights dimmed to black. The
previews and the movie started and throughout, I kept my hand on his arm, a
signal to him that he could hold my hand if he wanted. But, for so long, he
didn’t take my hand. So maybe, he just didn’t want to and he’s just not
interested in me that way. Don’t get ahead of yourself. He’s already seen this
movie and obviously loves it so maybe he doesn’t want to be distracted from it.
But then again, why go to a movie on a date with me anyway? Yes, we are here to
see the movie but also, just maybe, possibly, we don’t want to see the movie too. Maybe this is all just my own
fault since I was so peculiar earlier. I don’t know and I wouldn’t blame Tracey
if he wasn’t into me at all no matter how many stories he tells me or how nice
he is to me or how patient or how charming he happens to be.
I
feel so off. I wish that I didn’t.
TRACEY
Heather’s hand has been resting on my arm
for a while now and I just don’t know what to do. I want to take her hand but…well…I’m
afraid. I don’t want her to think that I had any expectations or designs about
tonight. I didn’t want for her to think that I was expecting something romantic,
no matter how much I am hoping for it to be. But I would suppose that romance
is indeed implied since we’re here, right? But it’s not cool to be presumptuous
and it’s also not cool to be a wuss about every little moment. No guts, no
glory and all that jazz but I can’t seem to will my hand to hers despite my
desires to the contrary.
Somehow, I found a finger from my right
hand slowly touching her hand as she has gently slid it downwards on my arm
towards my hand. I stole a quick peek at Heather to see that she was indeed
watching the movie and quite intently it appeared. Testing the waters, I moved
my hand over hers, feeling every nuance of her skin along the way until Heather’s
hand turned, shifted and opened to receive and fully accept mine. And then, she
squeezed my hand.
I then opened up my fingers to interlock
them with her and she then squeezed my hand again. And there, our hands remain
intertwined for the rest of the movie.
HEATHER
I almost stopped breathing.
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