"DECEMBER BOYS" PART TEN: "THE DOOR INTO SUMMER"

DECEMBER BOYS

"THE DOOR INTO SUMMER"

     If people’s perceptions of Craig Hughes as an introverted, heart-on-sleeve, naval gazer were correct (and they typically were) then Rhett Brazelton’s level of introspection was downright astral. Not careless, scatterbrained or chemically enhanced by any means. But, whenever Rhett found himself deeper and deeper in thought, he became mesmerized to the point of becoming absent. This peculiar personality trait had been a part of Rhett since infancy, when people from various sectors—family members and friends, teachers, complete strangers—would remark at how tranquil the little one seemed to be, as his bouts of crying were unusually rare and his eyes seemed to be peering into a world unseen by anyone else other than himself. “He’s just taking it all in,” his Mother, a university Botanist, would explain plainly and always full of inquisitive delight.

     Rhett found himself in that exact state of mind on an early warm spring morning, shortly after his pilgrimage with Craig and Mariah Esposito’s weekend visit. It was precisely the type of morning his Mother had actually warned him about one beautiful summer day before he embarked upon his Freshman year in Madison. As Elizabeth Brazelton sat at their kitchen table, toiling over home finances and monthly bills, Rhett sat blankly nearby, watching/not watching MTV videos playing in the background while holding a magazine in one hand and the presence of a novel sitting closely on the kitchen table. Elizabeth Brazelton ran her hands through her then newly shorn, closely cropped hair and in a voice that displayed an atypical bout of weariness, she declared, “These days will definitely find you.”

     As if being yanked from the ether by a strongly pulled tether, Rhett returned to the present and murmured a somnambulant, “Hmmm?”

     “Rhett, in no way am I even beginning to condone this particular behavior, especially as I am about to fork over an enormous amount of money to fund your education, but the days will come for you when you simply say to yourself, ‘No.’”

     “What do you mean?” he asked, intrigued.

     “You will one day find yourself waking up to face the day. You will ready yourself and even make all of the necessary plans to meet the duties to which you are obligated. And for some unknown reasons, you will say, ‘No’,” she answered tiredly as she returned the cap of her red pen from end to ink point, set it down upon the table and rose while stretching her athletic body. “So, right now Rhett, I’m saying ‘No’ and am wondering if you would like to join me for a walk or should I just leave you here to your thoughts and videos.”

     “No. I’ll say ‘No’ too. Let’s go out.”

     And off they went, Mother and son, to spend a warm afternoon “taking it all in.”

     Returning to the morning at hand, Rhett Brazelton indeed woke up at his usual time, showered, purchased his morning orange juice from Pop’s Club, collected his books and materials for his morning classes, as well as his headphones, for the morning walk to Bascom Hall. But there was one notable difference. While waiting for his turn to check out at the registers, Rhett spied a discarded copy of that morning’s Chicago Tribune, which he instinctively picked up and began to peruse. After skimming through the comics, his eyes sped back towards the advice column and onto the daily horoscopes, a section he generally paid no credence towards but with all things, as far as Rhett Brazelton was concerned, he didn’t rule anything out. The prediction was swift yet carried the force of a bolt of lightning as it stated…

“Today is a 9! On this day, your heart will fall in love. It will be someone you have never met before. Act quickly. Act wisely. For it will never pass this way again. Have a wonderful day!”

Rhett scoffed at the prediction and yet found himself reading it again and again, transfixing himself upon the words and the suggestion that he absently stood in line and was eventually goaded onwards by the rightfully impatient students behind him. After offering a feeble apology, Rhett discarded the paper and headed off to class.

      Rhett Brazelton strode up the massive monolith of Bascom Hill, being succulently stroked by the breeze and sunlight, and still buzzing with the horoscope he had previously read. After reaching his destination, he walked inside Bascom Hall, trotted down the hallway and reached his classroom, only to open up the door, see his classmates gathering themselves for the day’s new material and without warning or provocation, Rhett quietly said to himself, “No.” He then shut the door, exited Bascom Hall and found himself a gorgeously shady grassy spot on Bascom Hill, left to his own devices with his headphones and his thoughts. Rhett sat, letting the wind of spring caress his spirit, as he stared into space, regarding everyone who walked past him, again pondering the obvious spirituality and interconnectivity of all of the people who had previously and will one day walk this hill. Soon, like a television channel clouded with electronic snow, the image of all before him began to fade into a cloud of colorful dots. And then, it happened…

     Footsteps. Almost metronomic paced footsteps sent waves of sound from the here and now directly into Rhett’s reverie. It was like listening to a static filled radio station when suddenly a song from who knows where bursts through, announcing itself, demanding to be heard. Rhett turned his head towards his left, and emerging upwards from the direction of Science Hall, he saw her and instantly, he was gone.

     The first item Rhett noticed were the dusty, rusty colored boots, the source of the metronomic beat, which almost needed a bass guitar and fat handclap to make the effect even more complete. Trailing his gaze from the ground upwards, his vision revealed the sight of a tallish, olive skinned girl with wavy, shoulder length autumn brown hair walking with a not too fast, not too slow, decidedly not a strut but definitely aggressive stride that was commanding. This girl walked with a comparatively heightened sense of purpose to her fellow Bascom Hill walkers yet seemingly no one on the entire hill seemed to pay her any stitch of attention. That is, except for Rhett who was happily dazed and confused, feeling a sudden and overwhelming sensation of ardor that he could swear he could feel all the way into his eyebrows as he turned his head to watch her sumptuously phase through his field of vision. The girl continued to walk past, towards the Liz Waters and the Lakeshore dorms, until she was completely out of view, and her eventual disappearance suddenly returned Rhett to reality. He laughed to himself. Shrugging his shoulders and re-adjusting his headphones which displaced themselves during his act of obvious rubber-necking, Rhett Brazelton laughed to himself for this sort of behavior was atypical as it was just not in his nature to stare or to, at least, call attention to himself for staring—which he seriously hoped that he hadn’t done. To no one in particular, which therefore meant to everyone around him on Bascom Hill, Rhett exhibited a theatrical “Hey, what can I do?” motion and took one last futile look over his shoulder with hopes that perhaps one final glance at this stunning sight could be witnessed again. Seeing that she was indeed completely out of view, Rhett stood, sighed and smiled to himself and began to walk down Bascom Hill to points unknown, only armed with the full intent of enjoying the day ahead, no matter where it took him.

     The memory of the autumn brown haired, olive skinned girl with the dusty, rusty boots and the commanding stride was never far from the forefront of Rhett’s mind as he neared the end of his first year of college. With the presence of the continuing warmth of spring slowly building upwards in the heat of summer, the campus blossomed and bloomed into its tremendous final stages of excitement before the students’ eventual departure until the Fall. From the foliage of the trees, flowers and plant life to the increasing amount of people spending time outdoors, life in Madison near the end of a school year was a feast for the senses, especially amorous ones. For a brief spell, Rhett kept his eyes sharply opened for another sighting of the girl, even going so far as to return to Bascom Hill, headphones firmly attached to his ears and playing the exact same music he listened to that day, as if to magically conjure her reappearance. Unfortunately, she never arrived. 

     Rhett’s more logical reasoning chalked up this girl’s apparent disappearance to just being “one of those things” that invariably occurs on a campus this size and with a student body this immense. It is simply not unreasonable to catch a full view of the most strikingly attractive girl on campus and then never see her again. It was akin to being surprised by a shooting star or better yet, waking from a glorious dream that you impossibly try to physically grasp and keep forever. When presenting himself with the concept of a dream, however, Rhett’s astral brain went into overdrive. What if he had actually dreamt that entire morning on Bascom Hill? And if it was a dream, then it would stand to reason that the sight of the girl immediately after reading the romantic predictions of the horoscope was equally invented as if it arrived from a wish. At the contemplation of this notion, Rhett shuddered, feeling a quick icy wave race through his body. For if the day of Bascom Hill, including what he was beginning to assume was nothing more than his fantasy girl, was only a dream, then what was his real life? Where did his mind or even all of him go to once he went to bed each night? Feeling more unsettled than he wished at the sudden thought of life as he knew it was somehow a product of his sub-consciousness, Rhett waved away the dark fantasy and fully returned to bright reality.

     When Rhett Brazelton began his life in Madison, not even one firm plan concerning his academic future ever entered into his brain. All that he ever initially wanted was just to have the opportunity to simply take everything in (again and as always) and get a lay of the land. What surprised Rhett about himself, at least regarding his education, was the seriousness with which he approached his classes and all ensuing assignments. While always a good student, Rhett admittedly never felt himself to have been truly academically challenged in high school. During those years, he felt as if he had some mental muscles that weren’t being put to use properly. Yet, by the time he received his first college assignments, those very same mental muscles were indeed put to the test. Where many of Rhett’s peers and classmates grumbled and stressed, Rhett welcomed the often intense quality, quantity and frequency of the work, especially relishing the times when his mind would arrange the hours of his day, compartmentalizing his tasks as if his third eye could visualize a series of boxes to be organized and placed onto their exact spaces upon a shelf.

     During this same period at the start of his college experience and growing stronger throughout the year, Rhett discovered just how perfectly in tune he felt with the cycle of the school year. Despite the worldwide celebrations announcing the arrival of every new year, there was just something about the beginnings and endings of a school year that felt more natural to him. His spirit was inexplicably in sync with that sequence, so much so, that he wondered just how he would function after college in that seemingly so far away and monolithic sounding “real world” without the September staples of ‘Welcome Week,” football Saturdays and midterm exams, for instance. For Rhett, the less said about the interminable middle section of Winter, the better and then, Summer was just…Summer, a languid and healthy slice of sunkissed bliss that felt like it existed as its own entity.  As Rhett made more friends with either older students or with people who hailed from Madison, more and more, he heard stories about how perfect the city was in the summer. People’s faces would begin to naturally glisten while their eyes would fall into a dreamy haze as they all expressed variations of the same theme, “Madison is so beautiful in the summer,” over and again.

     And then, the pieces began to form together or rather, Rhett’s astral brain with its mental boxes were beginning to find their exact spaces upon the shelf.

     It was near the end of Rhett’s Freshman Year when he began to entertain the idea of becoming a Philosophy professor, a career where his sense of academic diligence, love of the school year cycle and his more astral leanings could all congeal beautifully. It didn’t matter whether his imagined teaching profession took place in Madison or back home in Minnesota, even though he felt to be very much at home on the UW-Madison campus. Rhett just imagined himself on a Midwestern campus, complete with the four seasons (including the dreaded winter), and endless streams of new students w hose youthful energy just may rub off onto him when he is not so young anymore.

     But to get himself started, it was time to begin taking some of the necessary classes. After a lengthy discussion with his Mother, Rhett soon registered for two summer courses in Philosophy, one of which explored the teachings and writings of Sartre, while the second class was about the more timeless and always timely fundamentals of ethics. As for lodging, Rhett’s Mother pointed him in the direction of her brother, Rhett’s Uncle Denny, a house painter whose business increased dramatically during the summer months. After a surprisingly enthusiastic conversation, one that Rhett was initially nervous about due to his scant contact with his Uncle, a deal was struck for Rhett to reside in Denny’s house, rent free, for the Summer and as an added bonus, Rhett could have access to driving Denny’s 20 year old Honda if he wished as Denny would primarily be using his truck to cart around his painting supplies over the next few months. The only stipulations were to keep the house orderly if not fully clean, occasionally assist with the grocery shopping and lawn care and finally, absolutely no guests were allowed without confirmed permission. If these were to be the only bargaining chips in order to receive free summer housing, accepting the terms was a no-brainer! Helping to keep a tidy house and yard and do some minor grocery shopping was the least he could do in exchange for his Uncle’s generosity. And the additional prospect of having access to a car was indeed the proverbial icing on the cake (even though Rhett loved going for walks—the longer, the better—it was great to have an option, especially for those stormy summer days and nights).

     Everything was falling into place. Classes were obtained as well as a home to comfortably reside inside of after the cramped existence of dorm life. With his Mother paying tuition, Rhett instinctively felt obligated to find summer employment to not only alleviate any sense of financial burden but to also support himself with his books, any supplies and to have some precious pocket money, a task he accomplished through being hired for work part-time at Memorial Library.

     On the final day of the school year, Rhett Brazelton moved out of Ogg Hall and into his Uncle Denny’s home, located near the Vilas Zoo, where the growls of the lions could be heard during the night on occasion. To celebrate, the two spent a rapturous night on the Memorial Union Terrace, where in addition to becoming better acquainted with each other through lively conversation and covertly imbibed alcoholic beverages, Rhett and his Uncle simply enjoyed the time under the stars, with the breeze from the lake waters in the air and surrounded by a sea of happy strangers all seduced by the tropical rhythms and deep bass of the reggae band performing on the outdoor stage. As far as he was concerned, as he took in the sights around him and replaying all the sublime comments about Madison summers in his mind, the self-described “Summer Of Rhett” had officially begun. 
Copyright 2015 by Scott Collins All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.

"DECEMBER BOYS" PART NINE: "GOOD EVENING AND WELCOME TO FOCUS!"

DECEMBER BOYS

"GOOD EVENING AND 
WELCOME TO FOCUS!" 

The act of killing time on the UW-Madison campus, especially during the unforgivably bitter cold and nocturnal winter months, is a delicate art. For some, imbibing some narcotic was a way of life, in addition to spending some moments between one planned activity to another. And certainly, there was the central hub of Memorial Union. For Craig Hughes and Rhett Brazelton, the physical act of just walking worked best. Having just departed from the Union, the two young men entered themselves into a cold so pervasive the contents of their noses immediately began to involuntarily trickle outwards and downwards (thank God, Craig always carried Kleenex with him) and then began to silently walk up the steps by Helen C. White Library. Within several painfully cold minutes, they found themselves at the four way intersection located on Observatory Drive.

     This particular intersection rested four buildings which chartered the sea of higher education channels and if one were feeling a bit on the whimsical side, it could appear as if the buildings were preparing for some kind of architectural square dance. One side of the street housed the Social Science building and campus carillon, while diagonally sat the wanna-be skyscraper, Van Hise. Overlooking the grandness of Lake Mendota was the veritable “Virgin Vault” itself, the Liz Waters Residence Hall and catty corner from there sat Commerce Hall, home to several Humanities courses (including Craig’s Shakespeare course) and beginning each Thursday evening and lasting through late Saturday nights, the home of one of the campus student film societies, Focus Films. Craig and Rhett entered B10 Commerce, nearly full with students anxiously desiring a cinematic break from all educational pursuits, to find Ember Fox hurriedly racing through the room, checking all manner of wires, connections, and the status of the archaic projectors in preparation for this evening’s motion picture.

     Even with a campus population of 40,000, everyone knew about Ember Fox, the leader of Focus Films. Certainly, not every single person on campus knew her by name or even remotely personally, but everyone, had at some point caught the sight of the diminutive Fox, hurriedly scurrying around the UW-Madison campus, either by foot or via her scooter, placing and re-placing film poster advertisements on seemingly every solitary kiosk in the city. If the sight of her hurriedly scurrying had been missed, all one would have to regard was the tiny blond haired girl who wore the army green jacket, astonishingly sturdy black flats and carried everything in an ancient brown satchel. Ember Fox never smoked, yet drank copious amounts of caffeine, which combined with her feverish activity, gave her an air of intensity students never braved to intrude as she presented a forceful purposefulness with every staple insert. She was cute in that tomboyish Peppermint Patty way, and truth be told, many students of both genders would have to agree with the puerile statement once uttered by one of Ember’s all too brief boyfriends, regarding her “heart shaped ass.” 

     Craig Hughes met Ember Fox the previous year during the mad-dash of campus class registration while feebly on-line for a Communication Arts course neither of them had any possibility of obtaining due to them both being first semester Sophomores. Ember (who also hailed from Minneapolis) had a love of cinema that rivaled the levels of Craig’s deepest passions and even he had to concede that her knowledge exceeded his own. There was no way to compete but nonetheless, they found in each other a kindred spirit. They would occasionally pass each other at the University Square 4 movie theaters on Friday nights or spot each other in the Union for a few moments. And just like every other student on campus, Craig chuckled to himself whenever he saw her hurriedly scurrying around placing and re-placing movie advertisements on seemingly every kiosk in the city. One day, he was brave enough to interrupt her aforementioned intensity to ask her exactly what she was doing. She then happily informed him about Focus Films and with an almost involuntary burst of glee, she suggested that he join the club as well. It was as if all of her activity had been proven to not be for naught. Someone had noticed! This is what endeared Ember to Craig. Ember Fox operated as if in a vacuum, unaware of the perception of the campus around her as she was lost in her love of cinema and her tireless pursuit to bring any and everyone into her world, even if it was for only one weekend screening. Her passion was pure, not through snobbery or even with an ounce of elitism. She was the head coach, cheerleader and fan all at once, making her devotion completely infectious to those who joined her at Focus Films. Her “crew” wisely took her lead, followed all of her instructions to the proverbial letter so as not to disappoint. While generally quite friendly, once a person decided, like Craig, to intrude upon her intensity, she was indeed quite gruff on the first showing of each weekend, as all of the equipment was indeed archaic and prone to technical difficulties, which frustrated Ember to no end. Every cinematic projector pop and crack was like a knife in her heart.

     As Ember raced back to the projector for one of her few more “final” checks, she spotted Craig and Rhett, exhaled a welcoming breath of arrival and waved them over into her inner sanctum.

     “Hi Ember!” Craig began with an inviting smile. “I guess everyone really needed a break and the semester hasn’t even gotten going yet.”

     “You said it! But, I think it’s probably just winter blues. It’s so dark and cold all the time,” said Ember, somewhat distractedly working on the projector. Then, looking up from her work, she smiled warmly at Craig, sighed and gazed around the bustling lecture hall like a loving Queen regarding her loyal court. “But…WOW!!! Look at everybody!! You know, I do have a confession to make to you,” she began covertly.

     “What’s that?” asked Craig.

     “For as much work as I do, for all of the posters I hang, I’m always nervous that nobody will show.”

     “Message sent. Message received,” said Craig eyeing the large audience.

     “That’s true! But, it’s always about the movie and I’m thinking that this week, people need a good romantic comedy.”

     “What are you showing?” inquired Rhett.

     “’When Harry Met Sally’” answered Ember.

     “That was really, really good!” said Craig, mostly to Rhett.

     “Yeah, it was. I mean, even though Rob Reiner really ripped off Woody Allen to an almost plagiaristic degree, he did really capture something quite lovely. Still don’t know about that Meg Ryan scene in the restaurant though,” said Ember, compulsively offering up her review.

     “I know what you mean,” countered Craig. “But, I think what Reiner did was give an homage to Woody Allen rather than steal from him. The good will was obviously on the screen and he really did have a story to tell concerning the friendships between men and women. I mean—really, the man behind ‘Spinal Tap’ is no hack. And yeah, that restaurant scene…it was funny but when I think about that movie, it’s definitely not the first thing I remember.”

     “You’re right, Craig. Reiner’s no hack but I had wished he laid off the Woody-isms a bit. I mean—Woody’s fingerprints were practically all over it!” Ember countered, not willing to give too much of an inch when it came to her opinions.

     “I had no idea that Siskel and Ebert attended this school!” joked Rhett, to which Ember and Craig had to laugh despite themselves.

     “Yeah, we can really get going when we want to,” said Ember laughing.

     “And even if we don’t want to!” chuckled Craig.

      “So, are you guys gonna find a seat?” asked Ember.

      “Well…actually no. We’re just killing some time. We have tickets for ‘Say Anything…’ at the Union,” Craig explained.

      The knife in Ember’s heart apparently twisted as her face transformed briefly into a disappointed grimace. “Ugh! I tried so hard to get that movie but they beat me to it!! I didn’t want to raise a big stink about it so they’d be pissed at my suggestions for the free showings.”

     “Are you involved with that too?” asked Rhett.

     “Oh yeah!! That’s so much fun to almost predict what people may like as those movies hadn’t gotten to theaters yet. I almost feel like a mogul when something does eventually pan out at the box office!” she gushed. “Oh…what’s your name?”

     “I’m sorry, Ember. This is my friend Rhett. Rhett, may I present to you the world famous Ember Fox,” Craig introduced as Ember gave Rhett a sheepish grin while finishing her work on the projector.

     “Are you the one who goes around the kiosks on campus?” Rhett asked.

     “It is amazing to me that I get asked that question as many times as I do. People in classes, the library and such. Yes, that’s me! Hey, back to the movie you’re gonna see. Have you seen it yet?”

     “No. When it was out last spring, you know it didn’t play anywhere near campus and I didn’t know anyone with a car to get to the outlying theaters,” explained Craig. “Have you seen it?”

     An inexplicable moment occurred next as Ember Fox ceased to hold her attention on the projector or even the evening’s event, which was due to begin shortly, and her eyes glazed over as if she was about to swoon. It was as if all of the sound that not connected to Craig’s question had suddenly evaporated. A slow, warm smile, obviously engaged with a treasured memory, slowly formed upon her face and with a released breath Craig and Rhett had no idea that she had been holding inwards, Ember uttered in a voice that could only be described as sated, “Oh yeaaahh! It’s wooooonderful!”

     “Really?” inquired Craig, hoping for a taste of the movie to come. “I’ve just been waiting to see my boy Cusack for a long time!”

     “There is no Cusack. There is only Lloyd.”

     “Huh?”

     “Just you wait. This movie is really, really special. It’s so special that the stiff seats, lousy screen to front row proximity, and third rate sound system of the Play Circle cannot ruin it!” She paused for a split second and quietly invoked, “I wish I had a ‘Lloyd’ in my life.”

     Craig and Rhett regarded Ember Fox with a quizzical gaze, filled with a complete lack of comprehension coupled with a curiosity for the movie they were to witness in their very near future.

    “Hey Ember!” called one of Ember’s compatriots as he politely tapped her shoulder, still hunched by the projector. “I think it’s time!”

     Snapping back to the present, Ember regained her General-styled command, nodded affirmatively and tapped the projector in preparation for the night’s work. “Gotta hit the stage, fellas. Have a seat back here for a few minutes though. You’ve got time. Stay out of the cold.” And with a salute, the diminutive form of Ember Fox charged down the middle aisle of the lecture hall, and in a swift motion much like a gymnast, she placed both hands on the floor of the lecture hall stage and hoisted herself to a standing position to face the legion of anxious collegiate film goers.

     “GOOD EVENING AND WELCOME TO FOCUS!!!” shouted Ember, with an authoritarian chirpiness which was greeted with an appreciative roar from the crowd. “TONIGHT’S FILM IS ‘WHEN HARRY MET SALLY…’ DIRECTED BY ROB REINER!!” More anticipatory applause. “NEXT WEEK’S FILM WILL BE THE ROBIN WILLIAMS BLOCKBUSTER, ‘DEAD POET’S SOCIETY’!!!” More anticipatory applause followed by a few scattered whoops and cat calls signifying the more carnal pleasure of the upcoming Hallmark holiday. “THIS ODE TO ENGLISH MAJORS EVERYWHERE WILL PLAY FOR THREE NIGHTS ONLY, SO GET YOUR TISSUES AND SONNETS HANDY!” chuckled Ember to which she was greeted with a healthy smattering of good natured laughs.

     Ember Fox could read her audience as easily as she could read the English language. The crowd, she knew was not exactly with her, but they were, at least, momentarily accepting of her opening announcements. She knew that it was only a small window before this momentary good will would transform into something uglier. But, Ember was ready…like a whip crack she was always ready. It was a skill that unfortunately was not innate, as she experienced in her painful first stabs at leading the weekend movie screenings of Focus Films. It was brutally learned as she quickly realized that a lecture hall armed to the brim with college students that were mentally and physically fatigued, anxious and sometimes emotionally anguished, carnally satiated or frustrated, narcotically enhanced to varying degrees, psychologically unbalanced due to chemical imbalances or collegiate strains or personal traumas, just plain sad, euphoric, furious, impatient, inaccessible and unrepentantly so, happened to be an audience impossible to tame and no amount of Ember Fox’s love of cinema combined with her cute looks and small frame would endear her to almost any of them. On her very first try, she was pelted with a soda can almost immediately upon her arrival on stage. This was soon followed by frat house remarks of a nastiness she had never experienced. She began to panic and left the stage in shattered mumbles and a parade of tears. When she arrived the following week, it was due to a concoction of bravery fueled by alcohol provided by a friend combined with an unwillingness to allow anyone to break her spirit, especially over something she loved. Her arrival on stage, especially after the still fresh memory of her previous week’s pummeling was of a major surprise to the audience and their stunned state at her re-appearance quieted them…to a degree…allowing her to make her opening remarks relatively uninterrupted. This small success gave her an inch of confidence. The third week, Ember Fox arrived without alcoholic enhancement and while still possessed with quivering voice and shaky figure, she remained unmovable. Over time, she realized that an audience of this sort needed to be held by its reins, like the wildest of horses, and whatever authority she harnessed would have to be utilized with extreme force.

     That extreme force was seconds away from being released, like an ace gunslinger, as Ember Fox briefly recounted the basic plot line of the night’s feature film selection when yet another drunken, sexist, brain cell deprived, frat house member vocally hurled through cupped hands a voluminous,

“SUCK ME!!!”

Which Ember Fox hurled back, without quiver or secondary pause, and with a velocity only found in the suddenness of a gunshot or a streak of lightning…

“FUCK YOU!!!!!!!”

If the audience was not with her before, they were COMPLETELY with her now as the supreme roar of laughter and applause rushed to the stage like a wave, lifting Ember Fox ten feet off the ground while simultaneously vanquishing her vocal assailant entirely. Surprised at her own level of volume and rage contained within her vocal slashing, Ember Fox cracked up in laughter and took a bow, which was greeted with even louder and more supportive applause. This was a moment to be remembered by everyone in the room to witness it, forever.

     “THAT’S Ember Fox, GODAMNIT!!” shouted Craig Hughes in support and solidarity of his friend as Rhett Brazelton yowled in supportive applause.

     “I CAN’T TOP THAT SO SIT BACK, RELAX, ENJOY THE SHOW AND THANK YOU FOR COMING TO FOCUS!!” chortled Ember and she leapt from the stage and raced towards the projectors.

     As Rhett regarded the remaining hilarity of the scene with the swell of applause, laughter and the defeated pride of a Langdon Street asshole still ringing in the air, the span of time seemed to slow down in his mind. It was exactly like that long ago Spring evening at the Memorial Union terrace as he looked from face to face, and began to ponder how many times an experience similar to the one he had just lived through had occurred in this very room. How many other frat boys were publicly dressed down by a seemingly unworthy opponent? If not that exact situation, how many times had there been an entire planet of sound where every individual in the room combined their voice to create a singular and enormous pubic expression of joy? Each smiling and still laughing face recounting Ember Fox’s victory filled Rhett’s spirit to the point where any previous melancholy had seemed to set sail and for a split-second, it felt to have not ever existed. What a difference a split-second can make. With the room’s sonorous din slowly beginning to subside, Rhett Brazelton captured a flash of an image that made his heart stop cold and his personal ship of melancholy immediately returned to port. From across the room, he saw the profile of a girl in laughter alongside a girlfriend. The laughing girl’s shoulder length strawberry blonde hair (did she just color it?) swayed from side to side and within that aforementioned split second, he saw her face. He saw the pair of glasses revealing the elegantly longish nose and beaming wide open mouthed smile that did not betray the fullness of her lips which he had the gift of kissing only months earlier—although it felt like years. Amethyst Lessing was here and the knowledge of this fact paralyzed him and he immediately began to think of ways where he could exit the lecture hall. But, there was Craig to think about and the horrific cold air to deal with so he sat still, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t see him sitting there…and then, hoping that she would, race across the room and all would be forgiven. This wish, of course, was uncertain to happen, so Rhett sadly stewed and his mind clouded over again. And it all felt so wrong to feel this way, in a vortex of excitement as the night’s movie began to unspool. Despite the wrongness, the curtain of Rhett’s memory came down and the room went black.
Copyright 2015 by Scott Collins All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.

"DECEMBER BOYS" STATUS REPORT

It has been quite some time since I have posted any material regarding this fifth story from Tales From Memorial Union and while I do have another section ready to go, I wanted to take some time to give all of you an update...especially as I am certain that you have been waiting for it with bated breath (ha ha).

As I have expressed to you in the introduction to this story, "December Boys" has grown into something that I had never anticipated. Regardless of the simplicity of its actual story--two friends undergoing heartbreak spend a frigid February Friday night together as they go to see "Say Anything..." on campus but end up even more heartbroken as the night continues due to the close presence of their still raw romantic memories--writing it has revealed a larger purpose in order for the whole thing to make more emotional sense to me. I guess what I am trying to say is that within memories lie a myriad of other memories and within each moment, anything can cause an emotional trigger to send one spiraling through those memories...even the unwanted ones.

So far, I have "published" most of what has already been written and typed--close to 100 pages and certainly nothing that I had initially intended when I first had the idea for the story in mind. Some of it is highly autobiographical (most notably, quite a lot of the material that centers itself around my alter-ego Craig Hughes), some of it is not or not explicitly so (the material with Rhett Brazelton is much more invented), but all of it, I am trying to make as honest as possible and reminiscent of what my college experience was actually like.

There has already been a fair amount of time jumping within the short stories that house the larger "December Boys," so if there has been a tad of confusion, especially as it is being released piece meal, this is all you really need to know...

WINTER SEQUENCES-(set in the story's PRESENT--circa February 1990)
"PARALLEL LINES: THE BALLAD OF CRAIG AND STEPHANIE-PART ONE" (1987-1988)
"A PILGRIMAGE ON A TIMELESS NIGHT" (Spring--early April 1989)

Very soon, the story will shift for a lengthy spell for us to spend time exclusively with Rhett during the Summer/Autumn of 1989 as he takes a Summer Session Fundamentals In Ethics Philosophy course, the place where he meets and falls for Amethyst Lessing. This section, I have been steadily writing since January 2015 in my Moleskine notebook as well as a new notebook my Co-Teachers gave to me on my birthday this year. I try my best to write during our classroom's daily rest periods (a time in which I am struggling to keep my eyes open as well) and I am happy that I am just plugging away, going and going, just allowing myself to write whatever I wish, knowing that I can edit or change later.

Once I post the next section to this site, I have some typing to do so I will even have something to share with you at all. But, please know that I hope that you are enjoying this story and that you'll stay with me as it continues to arrive here and there. I honestly do not know how long this journey will take for "December Boys" to reach its completion. But I do know how it will end--the ending has been in my head for YEARS!

It just may take me some time to get there.

Stay tuned...

"DECEMBER BOYS" PART EIGHT: A PILGRIMAGE ON A TIMELESS NIGHT (5th section)

DECEMBER BOYS

"A PILGRIMAGE ON A
TIMELESS NIGHT" 

(5th section)  

     The remainder of the morning continued in a mental fog pierced with the brightness of the sun. The trio staggered to Josie Fagen’s dorm of Witte Hall, where Mariah collected her possessions and deposited Josie’s room keys with a floor mate. After then dropping off Mariah’s clothes at Rhett’s dorm in Ogg Hall, the threesome traveled back to the Lakeshore dorms to crash in Craig’s room for the rest of the morning, as well as the entirety of the afternoon into early evening. Upon waking, it was then decided to give Mariah Esposito a proper introduction to the university—after a strategically placed phone call to Mariah’s parents, designed to cut them off at the pass and to extol the virtues of a productive and informative weekend college visit. Craig alerted his floor mates to Mariah’s situation (mostly to ensure her private visits to the bathroom) and then happily introduced them all to each other. After a quick meal of sorts at The Shed, Rhett and Craig presented Mariah to a typically festive Spring night at Memorial Union. While Craig eventually had to depart in order to collect some records and broadcast his radio show, Rhett and Mariah ended up at the more subdued Union South for comical bowling and continued exposure to the sights and sounds of campus life. The night ended quietly with more pizza and more soda in Rhett’s room while listening to “Road To Nowhere.” Rhett silently drifted off to sleep on his bed leaving Mariah in the solitude of the moment. As she sat in one of the more comfortable chairs, allowing the chilly night time Spring breeze to caress her face, Mariah breathed deeply, letting her heart beat slow and unwound the weekend’s events in her mind like film unspooling from projector. She pondered the success to failure ratio of her visit thus far and quickly deduced that despite the troubling beginnings and unplanned morning odyssey, it was a voyage well worth taking and one she was already feeling disappointment at having to leave behind the next morning. Even the callousness of Josie Fagen already seemed to be eons away and failed to derail the weekend’s purpose. On the contrary, Josie’s actions quite possibly enhanced her positive feelings for the experience and for a split second, Mariah wondered if she should even thank Josie…but, even as a surprise to herself, she was not in a forgiving mood and would refuse to be so concerning her now former friend. Thinking back to the seemingly eternal hours she spent sitting alone in a foreign dormitory’s festivities, fending off the glances of drunken suitors, she began to feel a sense of pride at her own strength in the situation, which was presented with an untouchable standoffishness that no one was truly brave enough to breach. She never knew she had it in her and she discovered a certain and previously unforeseen power. She had remained brave. She felt secure in her decisions of whom to place trust. In conversations held with Rhett and Craig, she surprised herself with her own assertiveness. At first, she felt is purely stemmed from her anger towards Josie but after a moment, she reasoned that if her assertions popped from her unexpectedly, those same feelings may have emerged at some point whether fueled by Josie or not. Maybe strength and assertiveness were qualities she had already possessed but never had the opportunity to try. There was no way to ever really know with unquestioned certainty but she didn’t want to diminish this discovery made at this moment at this institution. There was something so right with her current train of thought and while she didn’t want to elevate anything past the point of rationality, it was too important to ignore or discount. The rising elation she felt throughout her body spoke a truth to her that words couldn’t handle on their own. Mariah felt an ease with her surroundings, an ease she never felt in high school and the potential of feeling this way for hopefully extended periods and perhaps even stronger and more assured was definitely tempting. It felt as if she had shed a skin. That whatever had kept her quieter, as a follower, as one to be dragged along by the pursuits of those more adventurous, had now become something to be discarded.  

She had seen the potential of a future self and she didn’t want anything to cease that evolution. If it were possible, her college adventures in Madison would begin immediately.

     Mariah rose and strode across the room in a way as to not evaporate her building epiphany and began to investigate the contents of Rhett’s educational pursuits. She paged through his copious and visually frenetic notes. She thumbed through his textbooks on Philosophy and novels to study for Comp Lit. She inspected the resoundingly unfamiliar names of Derrida, Foucault, and Jung and chuckled quietly to herself as she envisioned the names as an organization of an ancient group of attorneys. She began to envision herself striding up and down Bascom Hill or walking down University Avenue, in a sea of students heading to one class or another. Picturing herself in these new surroundings made Mariah happily realize the thoughts felt less like a wish for a hoped future but more as an invitation that dangled in front of her awaiting fingers that she was anxious to accept. It was at this very moment that Mariah Esposito realized that she had fallen in love with the campus and she continued to envision herself in hoped for situations. She wanted to experience all of the lecture halls, crammed from top to bottom with students breathlessly taking notes from Professors of all kinds. She wanted to be drenched with the falling leaves that seemed to only exist on a college campus. Seeing as she was more of an introverted sort, the thought of carousing through the many libraries sent an excited tingle up her spine. She wanted more nights at Memorial Union. She wanted to meet new people from…everywhere! She even wanted the horrifically bad dorm food. Every element added to the whole and she wanted it all. The atmosphere of this campus was inexplicably comforting and she just wanted more and more of it and right now.

     Surprising herself again, she realized that she wanted to learn more about Craig Hughes. While he was alternately shy or awkward with his sense of humor, which she did feel was over compensating for any sense of shyness, he had been a truly gracious host and a person she felt she would love to have on her side in this environment. As she listened to his radio program, she heard a different side to Craig. He sounded more confident, more self-assured and perhaps it was because he was in his natural element of music, a quality she found admirable during their visit to Memorial Union. The music he played on his program mostly consisted of pop songs of varying styles, intensity and moods but all of it contained a slightly left-of-center quality that felt obscure to her ears. Much like everything else she had experienced this weekend, the music served as another invitation to a place beyond what she already knew and again, she wanted more. As his radio program continued to provide a soundtrack to her new awakenings, she felt a synchronicity that she wanted to acknowledge personally. Impulsively, she reached for the telephone, began to dial the often repeated request line number, and after the too-late beginnings of the ringing tone on the other end, her heart began racing.

     “WLHA?” Craig answered.

     “Hello,” she began tentatively. “Um…may I speak with Craig Hughes?”

     That voice again. That unmistakable, siren-like voice.

     “Mariah?”

     “Yes! How did you know it was me?” she asked quizzically.

     Not wanting to give himself away, Craig tried to act quickly. “Just a lucky guess…I guess,” he said, feigning a certain slyness that he was uncertain was terribly successful.

     “I see.”

     Immediately seizing upon a dark thought, Craig worriedly asked, “Are you OK?”

     “Yes, I’m fine. What’s wrong? You sound concerned?”

     “Where are you?”

     “I’m at Rhett’s. He’s sleeping and I’m just…” Mariah breathed a deep, happy sigh. “I‘m just taking it all in.”

     “Oh,” said Craig, sounding relieved. “I had this vision that you had been abandoned once again at some party.”

     Mariah laughed heartedly at the notion of cruel fate occurring twice in a weekend as Craig luxuriated within the sound of her melodic amusement. “If I am ever subjected to anything like that again, just shoot me because it will definitely be of my own lack of judgment!”

     “Glad to hear that all is well.”

     “It certainly is.”

     Pause.

     “So…” Craig began cautiously. “Why are you calling?”

     “Would you prefer that I hadn’t?” asked Mariah with a flirtatiousness that even took her by shock. It was too late to return that tone back into her body.

     “No. That’s not what I meant at all,” he stammered. “I’m just surprised…Happily surprised.”

     “I guess I’m surprised too.”

     “How so?”

     “I just didn’t think I’d get through. I’ve never really known anyone to get through to a radio station. Not that I’ve ever tried it myself…Until now, that is.”

     “No worries there,” Craig chuckled. “I hardly ever get calls or requests.”

     “Really? I like your show. It has a good…vibe…I don’t know if that’s the word I’m looking for. But, I’m having a good time listening to it.”

     “Why thank you!” gushed a positively flattered Craig. “I mean—it’s late Saturday night. I would imagine that there aren’t too many people around in their dorms listening to the radio right now. And then, there’s the issue of our highly deficient wattage to deal with. I’m amazed that you can even hear me now.”

      “It’s as clear as a bell.”

     “Hmmm. That means the wind is blowing in the right direction.”

     Mariah laughed and Craig was pleased she found his comment humorous.

     “So, why do you do this if you don’t get requests, calls and wonder if anyone is listening in the first place?”

     “God!” he beamed. “Why wouldn’t I do this?”

     “Childhood fantasy fulfilled?” asked Mariah, completely picking up on the source of Craig’s joy.

     “I couldn’t have said it better myself. You have a great way with words, you know.”

     “Why thank you, sir.”

     Another brief pause.

     “What is this music you’re playing now?” Mariah inquired.

     “Mott The Hoople.”

     “Who?”

     “Mott The Hoople,” Craig began to explain, and hoping to ring the correct bells of musical memories. “They’re a 70’s band. David Bowie wrote their song ‘All The Young Dudes’.”

     “I don’t know what that is.”

     “Really?” asked an honestly stunned Craig, who still found it difficult to comprehend people who hadn’t previously heard songs which he felt were universally familiar. “Maybe you would know it if I played it. I’d have to look for it though and I really hope we have it. I mean-any self respecting radio station would have that song but we are notorious for not having even the most seminal works,” he chuckled.

     “You know, even if you did play it, I really don’t think I would know it at all. “  Then, ensuring no signs of disappointment were inferred, she added sweetly, “But don’t let me stop you. I’d love to hear it”
     “A rare request…sort of,” he laughed. “I will look for it.”

     “Great,” she said and then after a brief pause she added, ”Thank you Mr. DJ!” with another unexpected bout of honey sounding flirtatiousness (before she knew it, she had even dropped her voice a register) that indeed sent the intended chemically emotional response to Craig, who then nearly bumped into the record player’s stylus on the upcoming track he had selected for broadcast.

     And after that momentary firework blast…silence. A somewhat lengthy one at that.  Within that silence, Craig and Mariah both mentally returned to that fleeting instance where their brains and hearts were happily and confoundingly scrambled by the Botkin House bathroom the night before. Again, Craig was unsure as to what he had heard, the tone in which he heard it as well as the intent and possibility that she would ever be of interest to him. If he did hear what he felt he heard, perhaps it wasn’t even directed to him. Perhaps she was feeling frisky for some unknown reason and just let it out. It would’ve happened anytime, anywhere. Mariah was equally unsure as to where this unusual behavior emerged from and exactly what it was about this person that allowed her to behave this way. Perhaps he saw right through her as some silly high school girl feebly trying to create a worldly romantic façade she could not have possibly have earned in any way at this stage of her life. What they were both absolutely, positively and completely certain of was that neither one of them wanted to hang up the telephone.

     Finally, breaking the silence, Craig spoke. “Would you mind holding on for just a minute?”

     “You know…I could just get going.”
     “Oh no,” he said, a little too hurriedly. “I just have to grab a few more records to get the next set started. This song’s about over and besides, I have a request to fill.”

     Mariah smiled and she hoped that Craig could hear it.

     Once the voice of Robyn Hitchcock announced the station’s call letters, (an audio snippet designed to also signal a musical tonal change in song selections), Mariah’s ears were greeted with the opening somnambulistic chords and narcotic beat of U2’s “Love Comes Tumbling.” Mariah felt like picking Craig’s brain about life on the UW campus, an interview Craig was only too happy to oblige.

     “I realize this might be a cliché, but…what’s your major?” she inquired with a knowing giggle.

     “I am actually undeclared right now.”

     “Is that bad? Don’t you have to have one?
     “No. Not right away. It’s not like the ‘University Major Police’ will seek you out or anything. My parents, on the other hand…that’s a whole another ball of pressure. If they had their way, I would have picked my major during Sophomore year of high school!”

     “Maybe your parents and my parents should get together.”

     “Really? Are you under the microscope too?”

     “Very much so. Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents. I cannot imagine a world without the two of them in it. It’s like they have always been here, you know? I do realize they only want the best for me so I can’t complain terribly much about it but yes…it would be nice if they eased up a little from time to time. It’s like they feel that I’m not hearing what they’re saying or that I am actively choosing to not listen or worse yet, ignore them. I am honestly hanging onto their every word but when they say the same things for an hour, it’s just gets to be too much sometimes.”

     Craig exuded an empathetic laugh. “I completely understand what you mean! My parents are like an endurance tag team. One of them will lay into me for one thing or another for seemingly an eon and then, when it seems like it’s going to slow down, Mom will pass the baton to Dad or he will pass the baton to her and then they go at it with me. I’m amazed that they never seem to run out of words, breath or energy. I don’t think they really take into account that the act of listening takes up almost even more energy.”

     “Do they try to quiz you on what they’ve said?”

     “Mercilessly,” he snickered dryly. “And…I think they actually enjoy that part so I have to stay on my toes.”

     “I will amend my earlier statement. Our parents should definitely meet. They could hold a summit, passionately discuss our respective futures and share any deep worries they have for their obviously and completely unfocused children,” she laughed.

     Laughing a little harder, Craig added, “I would really hate to be the subject of that kind of a summit!”

     “So back to your status as undeclared,” said Mariah. “Do you have any ideas of what you might want to do?”

     “Yes. I know it’s not what my parents would want for me but then again, I think they would be happy if I picked something. But, I am thinking of Communication Arts. They have three different course tracks you can take and the Radio-TV-Film track is the one that speaks to me. I originally wanted to be a Journalism major but after looking at the courses which many of them looked to be like classes in law, it lost its luster for me.”

     “So, you’re a writer?”

     “I don’t know…I just know that I like to write. Its one of the only things I feel comfortable with. I think I told people I wanted to be Journalism major back in high school just so people would stop asking me what I wanted to major in. I always felt like I had to say something.”

     “I have to admit, that line of questioning is grating to say the least. I mean—just let me graduate from high school first. I do have a few weeks left yet, as well as a graduation ceremony to attend to. Do I have to know my entire college destiny now?”

     “Please don’t hang up when I ask you this but…do you have any ideas of what you want to major in?”

     “I won’t hang up. Don’t worry. Ummm…you know, I have always had this thing for History.”

     “Really?”

    “Don’t you?”

    “Well…it’s not like I have anything against history. No vendettas, arguments or accusations against it. Not like Science.”

     “Mortal enemies?” Mariah asked.

     “To the bitter end, definitely,” Craig laughed somewhat painfully as the sound of his disapproving parents flashed through his brain. “But History…It’s hard for me, I guess. If it is not connected to a topic I’m already interested in, the dates and places get jumbled in my head. I mean—I could give you the history of a band or the entire life track of a director and how that path may relate to something else but if you tossed say…the life path of King Agamemnon at me, I’d drown. What is it about History that appeals to you?”

     “Weeeelllll,” Mariah drawled to Craig’s content, “I know when I was younger, it was really a fascination with how much simpler life seemed to be. I guess it was something more romantic than real but still…I think what really grabbed me was this Social Studies teacher I had last year. She was a lawyer. She only taught from time to time and she was really one of those teachers you’d never want to cross. I mean—the first day of class, she like gets up in front of everyone and lays down her own personal and exhaustive Magna Carta, to which she ends with ‘And if any of you think I’m a BITCH, then that’s right!! I’m a BITCH!!’” she concluded after demonstrating bloodthirsty imitation.

     “So, you liked History because you were under duress?”

     “No,” she laughed. “What got to me was this idea that just because it is in a book doesn’t always mean that’s the way it happened. She used to always say that while there’s truth in facts, facts aren’t necessarily the truth and how we must always, always, always question everything including her! I thought that was brave. I mean-she was the first teacher I ever had that that really seemed to want for us to think, you know? She challenged us to not take everything at face value and that History is about everything that’s left out as much as everything that’s left in. And why were things left out and all of the stories that can come from why things were left in and out and so on and I got to thinking that History is the account of every single person that lived it and that’s when I fell in love with it. I really like thinking about what came before me, what came before my parents and my friends and just people I don’t know at all. I mean—who walked this campus long before you and Rhett got here? Who built this place? Why were things designed to look they way they do? It’s all connected, I guess and I like looking at the connections. Ooooh! I just love architecture and art history too and I was just looking through Rhett’s books and notes and I just can’t wait to find out more and…I’m rambling aren’t I? Just going off, huh?”

     “No, not at all!” said Craig filled with a growing affection for this girl who had taken the time to call him up. “I really get a clearer picture of it. I guess I never thought of History that way. In fact, it sounds a lot like how Rhett thinks of things too.”

     “Yeah. He gets his head in the clouds quite a bit. Before I knew him, I used to think he was perpetually stoned but I realized he’s just naturally in another place.”

     “I can see that. You know, he was very right about you too.”

     “How so?”

     “He told me that when you don’t tend to say terribly much but when you get going, you get going.”

     “Ah, so he thinks I can’t just shut up, huh?” she mused while compulsively twirling the telephone cord.

     “I really don’t think that’s what he meant. I’m glad to hear you and hear what you think about things. And besides, I’m a captive audience…happily so and what else am I gonna do anyway?”

      “Um…your radio show, perhaps?”

     “That’s easy. I’ve got songs and songs lined up.”

     And so he did. They conversed through World Party’s “All Come True,” chatted through Oingo Boingo’s “Long Breakdown,” parlayed through The DBs “I Lie,” and prattled through Fleetwood Mac’s “Sands Of Time.” For both Mariah and Craig, time became elastic as before either of them even realized it, 50 minutes had passed without a trace of dead air, either on or off the air, had occurred. Soon, it was almost time for Craig to end his broadcast and whatever gossamer thread held the two together in stimulating conversation, he was anxious not to break it and he hoped she felt the same. So, he tried to push it a little bit longer.

     “So, are you definitely coming here?”

     “After this weekend, there is absolutely no question in my mind in the least,” said Mariah with a clear-eyed certainty that matched her words.

     “Then my work here is done!” said Craig with a deep-voiced mock bravado.

     “You should work for the university then,” she said.

     “Who knows? Maybe I will. But until that day arrives, I was also wondering if you have any idea of where you might live?”

     “Who knows what the collective deities of student housing will do with me but I can tell you that I listed Chabourne Hall as my top choice. Girls only, you know, but at least it’s not the…what did you call it…oh yeah…’The Virgin Vault’.”

     “Look…I’m sorry about that. It’s just a name that’s goes all over campus and…”

     “Don’t worry about it,” she consoled. “I was just mad about Josie and everything was making me angry then. It already feels like a year ago. So, yes, going back to housing, I wanted a place that was girls only.”

     “Ah…girls only,” said Craig sounding more relaxed after being released from his early morning faux-pas, which did indeed already feel like a year ago. “I can relate. I picked where I’m living because it was boys only but you know, there’s girls around so much of the time that I’ve just gotten used to it.”

     “Is that so?” she asked flirtatiously.

     “Hey! I didn’t say they were coming from my room. I just said that they were around.”

     “OK then. Because, if you were the campus lothario, I would have no idea of how you ever got any studying done at all. I am fully aware of the reputation this school has for partying…and so do my parents so that is making them trepidatious about having me attend.”

     “I feel that I must respond to both points. First off, the concept of me being a campus lothario. I’m flattered and ultimately confounded as to how you could have ever come up with that descriptive term for me,” he began laughing.

     “Why would that be so hard to believe?” she inquired coquettishly.

     “Because,“  he began tentatively and thinking of the current non-existent state of his romantic life, “it’s just not true.” After a hiccup of a pause he continued. “Anyhow, as for your second point about this being a party school. I had a high school classmate who was a year ahead of me tell me when I was finishing high school that maybe I should re-think coming here because this is such a party school. He told me that he just couldn’t get anything done and he actually transferred to somewhere else. But, you know, all I could think of is who put the gun to his head and told him to go to the party and not study. This school has about 40,000 students and there’s so many other things to do than party and besides, you’ll be so busy that you really won’t have time to party that much.”

     “So what do you do?”

     “Well…it may sound boring to you or others but I love going to movies, hanging out at the Union, doing this radio show…man, just sitting in the dorm hallways with my friends and just talking for hours and hours is great. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

     “That doesn’t sound boring to me,” she said tenderly. “In fact, I think that really sounds…perfect.”

     Another pause to allow the words to sail through the telephone wires to Craig’s ears and heart.

     “Well…I know you’ll have Rhett around but if you need a study partner…”

     “Oh…you’ll be a Junior then. I’m sure you’d be too busy for anything like that.”

     “I’m just putting it out there. And trust me, you’ll be busy too. You’ll be so busy that you just may even skip a class just to do the work for it. In fact, there will even be times when your body just says, ‘No.’”

     “What do you mean my body will just say ‘No’?”

     “Not long ago, I got up for class as always. I took my shower, got dressed, went to ‘The Virgin Vault’ for my morning orange juice, walked down Bascom Hill to the Humanities building for an English lecture. I got to the door, placed my hand on the door handle, opened it, looked inside and somehow, someway, my body said, ‘No.’ And somehow, by some force that didn’t seem to come from me, I closed the door and walked down to Library Mall and just sat by the fountain and watched people.”

     “You skipped class?!”

     “Yup, I did! Now, what I said about skipping classes to do the homework, that’s very true. There are just times where I felt that the little time I had would be better spent doing the work then sitting listening to a lecture. But, on this day…that morning at least, I just did…nothing. Now, it’s nothing I make a habit of and it was a great day but I think my body was telling me to unplug a little. So I did.”

     “Wow!” she exhaled incredulously.

     “Do me a favor please…just don’t tell my parents because if they knew I had even skipped one class, they would tag-team me until I was 38!”

     “Your secret is safe with me.”

     “Mariah…I really, really hate to do this but speaking of unplugging, I’ve reached then end of my show and I have to get a couple tunes before we go off the air.”

     “Oh…do you need me to hang up?”

     “Please don’t. Not just yet. Would you hang on for another minute though?”

     “Sure.”

     It was a magical night and Mariah deeply meant what she had said about the adventures of that very morning feeling like they had transpired a year in the past. In fact, she has felt as if she had gone further through her metamorphosis and her emergence into that person she wanted to become was even more of a reality. Listening to the song on the radio, she began to sway against the wall, swinging the telephone cord languorously to the beat, feeling so charmed and lifted by the night, the soundtrack and the conversation. It had to end, of course but maybe there was some way to carry it with her.

     “I’m back,” said Craig returning to the phone.

     “What song is this?”

     “This is ‘They Never Will Know’ by Marshall Crenshaw.”

     “It’s pretty.”

     “Yeah, I love it too.”

     “Look…did you say that you tape your shows?”

     “Yeah.”

     “I was wondering. Do you think there would be a way to make a copy for me?”

     “Absolutely!! I can do it right after I go off the air.”

     “Oh you don’t have to go to that kind of trouble. You could just send it to me. Rhett knows my address.”

     “It’s fine. I’d be so happy to do it.”

     “Why…thank you,” she said, genuinely touched by the gesture.

     “I actually have to go this time, Mariah. I have to talk on the air now.”

     “Oh! Well…let me let you go then.”

     “Yeah,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

     “I really hope that we can talk again soon, Craig. Thank you so much again for last night and this morning. If most people on this campus are anything like you, then this will be a very rewarding experience for me.”

     “I…I don’t know what to say,” said a deeply affected Craig. “Um…thank you, Mariah. I really hope we can talk again soon too.”

     “Well…bye and good night,” she said sweetly.

     “Good night to you too.”

     They hung up.

     As the final notes faded into the night’s airwaves, Craig breathed a long, soulful sigh. To what he owed for receiving a wonderful exchange such as this he did not know and for a moment, he actually questioned if Mariah even knew to whom she was speaking.

     Mariah was also in a state of afterglow only returning to the present by the sleepy grumblings of Rhett, who was now stirring on his bed.

     “Did you say something?” he croaked.

     Mariah answered him with the most bashful of smiles. She wasn’t ready to divulge just yet.

     The following morning as Rhett was preparing to escort Mariah back to the bus destined for Minneapolis, Mariah made a discovery that allowed her to contain the previous evening’s magic to herself a bit longer. It sat just outside of Rhett’s door. Addressed to her was a cassette containing the entirety of Craig’s radio show, which only ended hours earlier. Along with completely annotated details of the songs and artists, there was a brief note.

     “Just as requested here is last night’s show. Thank you so very much. I had a great time! Have a safe trip
back home and I really do hope we cross paths again once you come to Madison.

                                                                                        Take care,
                                                                                            Craig”

     There was so much to ponder and wonder as she rode home. She indeed felt as certain as before. She would be attending college in Madison in just a few short months, which of course felt eons away due to her intense anticipation.

     Mariah Esposito completed high school in early June sailing though her final exams with a focus that even amazed her already proud parents. She quickly attained a summer job to assist with payment for her upcoming school supplies and books and by August, she was more than ready. As she stepped from her home into her parents’ car for the drive into her future, she celebrated the time by listening again to her cassette, on which the final song was directed exclusively to her. It was indeed “All the Young Dudes,” where Craig introduced with a sweet, “Even the familiar is new somewhere for someone.”

    How true, she thought. Mariah listened to the show and the song in particular over and over. While she would mostly be unsure as to the song original meaning, she felt that for her, it was a song of the future. One that she was bursting to meet head on.

Copyright 2015 by Scott Collins All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights.