"DECEMBER BOYS" PART SEVEN: A PILGRIMAGE ON A TIMELESS NIGHT (4th section)

  

DECEMBER BOYS

"A PILGRIMAGE ON A
TIMELESS NIGHT" 

(4th section)

     The triumvirate emerged onto the top of Bascom Hill, wrapped in the crisp embrace of a cool Spring Saturday morning as the sunlight splintered through the tress to gently settle itself upon the morning dew graced grass. The invigorating breeze became a source of cleansing to Mariah Esposito as the clear air filled her lungs to give herself measured breaths but it also released the cobwebs of the night before to make way for her determination to find, confront and ultimately throttle Josie Fagen. If there happened to be any interference with the airwaves of her anger, it came from the two boys who flanked her, obviously coasting on the waves of their own fumes and lunacy. At any other time, and definitely in the very near future, Mariah would remember this morning with a gratitude that would sometimes render her completely speechless. That these two boys, one of whom she didn’t even know, cared for her safety so guilelessly to watch over her and ensure she was protected and vindicated, reached her heart in ways to counteract the callousness of Josie’s inconsiderate actions. But for now, Mariah compulsively stroked and brushed her mane towards and away from her ears, as if to bat away an annoying gnat but to actually quiet the increasingly raucous laughter that erupted from Craig and Rhett, seemingly as often as the plants and flowers budded from the earth all along both sides of the hill.

     “Oh my God!” shouted Craig, nearly halfway down the path. “There was this time last year when Jon and I were coming back from State Street. We were heading up the hill and then, there was this girl, who was obviously heading out for the night, all dressed up in hot pants and heels strutting down the hill. When all of a sudden, the gnomes under the earth pushed up the ground and baby girl did the ‘Stop, Drop and Roll’!”

     “Oh shit!” sputtered Rhett.

     “She totally just fell out!”

     “And that was funny to you?” Mariah somehow seemed to appear to give each of the boys a disapprovingly serpentine sideways glance which immediately made Craig re-think the timing of his story. Perhaps it should’ve been something to save during a more private moment with Rhett but hoping to save face, Craig began to backpedal…sort of.

     “Well, you see, this girl was probably from the Virgin Vault.”

     “The what?!” asked Mariah sharply.

     “Ummm…I mean, Liz Waters Hall.”

     “They sometimes call it the Virgin Vault,” interjected Rhett.

     “Why?” challenged Mariah with surprising alacrity.

     “Uh…I dunno,” muttered Craig sensing and fearing her disappointment with him. “It’s just a stupid name.” If Craig were able to force his baseball cap over the fullness of his skull, he would’ve done just so at this moment. Unfortunately, Mariah wasn’t quite finished but fortunately, this was the most he had had the opportunity to hear her low, slow, honeyed voice.

     “OK, so I am to understand that this girl, from the dorm, nicknamed probably by some guy who was thankfully turned away by what I would think would be every girl who lived there, was minding her own business to go out on a Friday night stumbles on this hill and you and your roommate just laughed at her? Didn’t you help her?”

     “Hey Judge Wopner, it’s cool. It’s cool!” quipped Rhett.

     “No, it’s…not quite like that,” Craig addressed Mariah. “I mean—she certainly didn’t appear to be someone who was in any sort of dire need.” Craig imagined a cartoon aeroplane in a determined slow descent with each word he spoke. “I mean, she tripped and fell and rolled and popped back up and walked off to State Street without one look back.”

      “And exactly why was this funny to you?”

      “Mariah, lay off! Haven’t you ever laughed at someone who slipped on the ice or anything?” asked Rhett. “What’s the big deal?”

     Again, Mariah gave each of the boys her disapproving serpentine sideways glance and with utter disappointment, she gravely announced through exhalation, “Boys will be boys, I guess.” With that, the topic was closed and the threesome continued down the hill in complete silence.

     By the time the three set their collective feet upon the soil of Library Mall, it was apparently clear that aside from the stray early morning joggers and the ritual set-up of the famous fruit stand between Memorial Library and University Book Store, the student body of the University of Wisconsin-Madison, was asleep. This observation was echoed by the sights of the nearly stopped tower clock and the dormant fountain, the Mall’s centerpiece and grand communal area for students, tourists and small children. The activity upon State Street was the inverse of the night before. The only sounds were of their soft footsteps upon the pavement and the morning breeze through their ears, which carried the faint stench of spilled beer congealed with piss as they passed by alley ways decorated with crumpled TYME receipts and vomit stains. As they silently approached the Capitol, they could begin to detect sounds that were not of their making and once the Capitol was in full view, they were exposed to a sight heretofore unseen to each of them.

     “God! It looks like the whole city of Madison is here,” uttered Rhett. “What is this?”

     “I wonder if this is the Farmer’s Market,” said Craig. “I’ve heard people talk about it but I’ve never seen it. Look at all of these people! Let’s check it out!”

     After crossing the street to join the stream of their Madisonian bretheren, a new threshold had also been crossed and there was no turning back. Sometimes laugher is best when it is completely exposed and fully relinquished from its holder and shared with the world. A laughter beyond hearty or even a bellowed guffaw. A laughter that is uncontainable, uncontrollable and reduces the person to a puddle of wheezes, clutched sides and a face full of tears. Craig and Rhett’s recent silence in reverence to Mariah’s rage had been lost the moment they spotted a large sign by one of the food carts advertising their cheese curds—“OUR CHEESE CURDS ARE SO FRESH THEY SQUEAK!!”

     That was it.

     The simple thought of something edible squeaking to the touch to determine its ultimate freshness and quality to the consumer was a line that crossed the boys further into their sleep deprived mind state. After that moment, and much to Mariah’s discontent, everything became funny.

     Designs upon balloons, local politicians hawking their latest cause, jewelry and clothing made from hemp all provided a feast for their folly. Passing along the juggling antics by the local children’s performer known only as the Truly Remarkable Loon, Rhett dryly, ironically and predictably uttered to Craig, “Damn! That loon is just…truly…remarkable.”

     By the time they happened along a group of Peruvian musicians (all performing a collection of guitars and pan flutes and backed by a rhythm track infectiously flowing through a boom box), Craig, through choked strains of laughter proclaimed to an equally dilapidated Rhett, “You know John Tesh wants his house band back by 4:00.”

     If the circumstances of the situation were any different, Mariah would’ve easily allowed herself to join in the communal spirit of her now nearly useless protectors. Once the passage of time had created a fair share of distance between herself and this moment, Mariah Esposito would exhale breaths of thankfulness concerning Rhett’s friendship and especially, the thoughtfulness and generosity of Craig Hughes, still essentially a complete stranger. But for now, each footstep through the sea of culinary patrons was consumed with venom directed towards Josie Fagen.  As if on the predetermined theatrical cues of actor placement and lighting, the Saturday morning crowd of happy families, artists, and peddlers all seemed to part, like a curtain, to reveal the sight of Josie Fagen, complete with croissant and steaming morning coffee, staring upwards at the figure of Troy Blake.

     Standing at slightly over six feet tall, the first sight of Troy Blake was an admittedly impressive one. He stood as if knowingly and proudly on display for celebratory public viewing with his clear, dark eyes, smooth skin without a hint of stubble, high cheek bones and perfectly slicked and coiffed black hair, with strategically placed strands hanging into his eyes like Bryan Ferry readying himself  to sing “Avalon” --just for you! His expensive clothing also purposefully meant for public viewing, yet rumpled and wrinkled to belie their cost, hung as lovingly on his frame as clothing appeared to on Craig’s idol John Cusack. Even the loafers looked as if they were made to rest specifically on those feet and only those feet. To only perceive of Troy Blake as some glamour boy was corrected by his obvious care of his thin yet firm athletic physique courtesy of exercise regiments five days a week at a Lakeshore gymnasium and vigorous touch football with friends. For a split second, the dither and din of the Farmer’s Market appeared to phase into a momentary hush to allow all the proper silence to witness a sight as attractive at this. Even the unrestrained laughter from Craig and Rhett (despite himself), and Mariah’s swelling fury, held a pause…but not for long.

     “JOSIE!!” shouted Mariah, shocking everyone out of their reverie.

     “Oh, hey Mariah,” began Josie as if the entire events of the night before had never happened. “Surprised seeing you here at the market. Wanna get a croissant? I’m not even remotely finished with this one and I know that I just have to get another. They are just so perfectly flaky and buttery.” And then for a final delectable effect, Josie uttered a satisfied, “Mmmmm! So good!”

     “Where were you last night? What happened last night?” asked Mariah with steady unceremonious brusqueness to match her approaching footsteps and also showing that she was not at all deflected by Josie’s invitation.

     “Um…this is Troy!” Josie smiled as if the introduction explained all Mariah needed to know.

     “Hi Mariah!” greeted a positively beaming Troy as he extended his hand. To Mariah’s surprise, he had a disarming voice that was a little higher in pitch that she had imagined he would sound and definitely warmer sounding than the “unctuousness” of Rhett’s description.      

     Not wanting to be rude, as was her upbringing, she shook Troy’s hand briefly and returned her gaze to Josie. “How could you leave me like that?”

     “Leave you?! You seemed to be just fine and truth be told…I didn’t want to cramp your effortless and obvious show stopping style as there were at least several guys just eyeing you.”

     “I didn’t come here to meet guys. I came here to see you! Where did you even expect me to sleep last night? You didn’t even exactly leave me your room keys.”

     “Oh…,” started Josie with a delighted purr and a wink in her voice, “…well…I thought you’d find your way.”

      “Fuck you!” screamed Mariah as angry tears popped from her eyes and she took a few more determined steps towards Josie.

      “Whoa! Take it easy, sweets,” started Josie with a detached calmness and was that even a hint of irritation? “It’s a safe campus. Nothing would’ve happened to you.”

     “How would you know? Did you know all of those guys there?” shouted Mariah taking another step. “How would you fucking know?!” Another step.  “Did you talk to them?” Two more steps. “Are they all your friends?” One more step. “Did you tell them that despite their alcoholic rave they were specifically instructed to not rape me last night?!” (By this point, Troy Blake had slyly taken about three strategic steps away from Josie. “You left me!” shoved Mariah into Josie’s shoulder. “Why did you do that?!”

     “Mariah,” began Josie in a quietly frustrated tone, like a parent not wanting to show anger to their child but definitely wants to convey that the subject at hand is a closed one. “This is college. Not high school and if you’re gonna make it here, or anywhere else for that matter, you’re just gonna have to get over it and grow up a little.”

     Mariah Esposito’s proverbial last straw had been broken as she quickly and violently upturned Josie’s coffee all over her face and then proceeded to give her one powerful right cross against Josie’s hot, wet check. Mariah then rapidly turned on her heel and headed back towards Rhett and Craig, who were now holding each other upright with laughter at Josie’s momentary comeuppance and Troy’s weak support as he comforted Josie while strategically not getting his clothes stained. The boys eventually pulled themselves together enough to follow Mariah’s mane back to State Street only to see Mariah whip-crack her body once again back in Josie Fagen’s direction.

     “What?! Do you want the other side now?” said Josie angrily as she still dried herself off.

     “Look, I’m sorry about all of this,” Troy inserted. “I didn’t know anything about any of this. Is there anything I can…”

      “Shut up!” hurled Mariah with a voice that surprised herself and even felt sorry for immediately after she spoke. “Give me your keys!” she ordered Josie.

     “What?”

     “Give me your keys!!”

     Josie slowly fished inside of her pockets for hey dorm keys and once slightly in view, Mariah snatched them, headed back towards State Street with Rhett and Craig in tow and leaving a chapter of her life behind with a throbbing left cheek and soaked in hazelnut scented coffee.
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