Innocent Milf

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Summer passed so quickly, I barely had time to register it.

I returned from Rendezvous and our prehistoric getaway to find that Eric had gone to my work atDisc Divers' Delightand told my boss that he had seen me stealing CD's. Unfortunately for him, I had already given my boss a heads-up about Eric, whom he recognized. Eric also claimed to have seen me doing so on a day when my boss was the only one working, and I was on vacation. He got laughed out of the store by my boss, who told him not to come back.

Cary finally gave me my graduation present--a brand new flat-backed bluegrass mandolin with pickups for electric if I wanted to plug in to an amp. My original mandolin was an arch-back, and I was delighted by this new toy. When I protested that it was too much, Cary simply smiled and shook her head. "I want you to keep making music. This is as much for me as it is for you," she demurred. Ty and the rest of the band thought it sounded great, and I spent hours playing all my old favorite songs on it, just to hear how they sounded different on a new instrument.

Sascha and I met up a few times; I returned herFoxfirebooks and told her that everything had gone well, and that we even seen a herd of elk wander through our campsite. Jack and I hung out almost as much as Cary and I did. And, of course, I had a few more bluegrass gigs with Ty, Randy, and the rest. Ty continued to be super cool about everything, and told me that Carla and Miles in particular had asked how Cary and I were doing, and hoped all was well. I tucked that away for later.

The hinted threesome with Samantha never materialized or was even mentioned again, mostly to my relief. I was happy with just Cary--a threesome seemed like the sort of thing you did with a couple of hot girls for a one-night arrangement rather than with your long-term partner. That made me think of Ty and his swinging friends again, and I revised my opinion--they probably had threesomes and more all the time with folks that they intended to see the next week. Regardless, spending time in and out of bed with Cary was more than enough for me.

Cary's kids had always liked me, but as I spent more time in their presence they really seemed to warm up to me. Patrick had opinions about comics and Nintendo, and was delighted when I offered to go to the comic-book store with him some time to pick some out. Annie told me I reminded her of one of her teachers, and demanded that I read selections fromBeezus and Ramonato her. Having read some Henry Huggins stories when I was younger, I was amused to be cracking the spine on a Beverly Cleary book again. Annie pronounced that I was "a good reader" because I did different voices for each character.

From time to time, I wondered if Eric had ever actually hired a private investigator, or whether he had gotten tired of his manipulations and machinations after the divorce went through. Whatever the case, he was less of a hassle for the rest of the summer. My last day atDisc Diver's Delight, my boss shook my hand and told me I was always welcome to come back and work summers for extra money, and we laughed about Eric's poorly-conceived attempt to sabotage me.

My group of closer friends planned one last outing with six of us: Sascha and Alex, Jack and Jenna, and of course Cary and I. Dinner at a steakhouse downtown, visiting a bookstore, and then "cosmic roller skating" made up the itinerary. Each couple had chosen one of the activities. Of course, Sascha was responsible for the neon-lit roller-skating.

I tried to dress up a little and look like I belonged in a fancy steakhouse. White button-up shirtsanstie, gray blazer, and dark jeans made me look like some hotshot junior executive on a TV drama. At least, I hoped so. Jack had gone upscale as well, wearing a shirt, tie, and slacks as well as a vest, but eschewing a jacket in the heat.

Sascha was dressed in a vintage flapper dress, complete with rhinestone-crusted cap. Jenna had picked out a new close-fitted red dress with spaghetti straps and a wide V-neck that looked like something Cindy Crawford would wear. I could tell Jack loved it. Of course, I only had eyes for Cary. Her new dress was white and sleeveless with a flared, pleated skirt and a heart-shaped cutout just below the neckline. Classy and elegant, it fit her perfectly.

Just after we sat, I gave Cary my going-away present: a simple gold bracelet engraved on the inside with our initials and a delicate tracing of vines on the outside. Cary teared up and hugged me for a long time before pulling away, her smile radiant. She had already thrust her right hand into the bracelet and was adjusting it and showing it off to Jenna and Sascha.

"Way to make me look like a cheapskate," Alex mock-complained. "I didn't think to get Sasch anything."

Sascha patted him on the head. "It's okay. Matt and Cary have their own thing going." Jack and Jenna gave each other an unreadable look. I wondered if this was their last date, or if they planned to keep trying to make things work throughout college, despite their earlier declarations.

Cary surprised me by reaching into her purse and withdrawing a small gray box. I raised an eyebrow, and she stammered. "Now don't get the wrong idea. I just wanted to get you something to remember me by while you're away. It looks like we were on the same wavelength." So saying, she opened the box, revealing a shimmering silver-colored ring. It was shaped like a class ring, but had no design or inscription--just a dark gray glimmering stone cut in an oval dome.

"Whoa!" I reached for it, but Cary took the ring from the box herself and slipped it onto my left index finger. I took a moment to marvel at its dark sheen. "Is this hematite? How did you get it the right size?"

Cary blushed. "I measured your finger while you were asleep." Ignoring Jack's snicker, she continued, "Yes, it's hematite and white gold."

Mementos given, we ate an excellent meal and reminisced with one another, as well as chatting about college and plans for the future. Cary had all sorts of ideas for next year's Rendezvous, and Jack was planning a complete overhaul of his impression. Sascha intended to contact her local neo-pagan group for college, or start her own if one didn't already exist. She had also recently developed an interest in computer-aided forensics.

Cary and I had suggested the bookstore, and the six of us spent an hour after dinner wandering around picking things out for ourselves and each other. We didn't all leave with something, but I found a book calledOutlanderfor Cary that I thought she'd like--by the blurb on the cover, it seemed like a good mix betweenClan of the Cave BearandLast of the Mohicans. She found me a book calledDunewhich I had heard of, but never read.

Lastly, we went toRockin' Rinks. It was a mainstay of kids' birthday parties; I hadn't been here since I was twelve, and certainly never this late at night. Feeling overdressed but goofy, we all swapped out our shoes for skates. Soon we were stumbling and sliding across the hardwood floor in the semi-darkness while a disco ball threw rainbow glimmers across the floor and walls. Pink Floyd blared from speakers at least as old as me.

I had never been great at skating, and clearly neither had Cary. We laughed and clung to each other, trying to work out how to move in the graceful circles that Jack and Jenna pulled off so effortlessly. Sascha seemed to be a competent skater. Alex was even more hopeless than I was. All in all, we had a great time, capped off by ice cream fromBaskin Robbinsjust as the none-too-pleased lone employee up front had been about to close things down.

Cary and I made some last memories of our own in her apartment.

And then summer was done.

Two days later, I stood in the dorm room of college as my parents waved goodbye and departed down the hall. I had moved my stuff in--more than I would have guessed--and now stood trying to decide whether it would be better to wait until my roommate arrived to play rock-paper-scissors for the top bunk, or whether to just put my pillow and coverlet up there and count on the venerable tradition of "I called it first."

Our meeting wasn't very long in coming. I was sitting at the desk nearest the window holding the novel Cary had given me, and noting that there were several appendices, some maps, and a section titledTerminology of the Imperiumpreceding the book proper. Bemused, I glanced up as the door rattled and then opened, revealing a dark-haired scarecrow of a guy. All of his clothing, from his faded Levis to his white T-shirt with a cartoon character on it and some foreign writing, looked too big for him.

"Hi," I said, standing up and extending my hand. "I'm Matt, your roommate."

He looked at me as if weighing variables and doing computations. Finally, he accepted my handshake. "Aaron. Aaron Sheffield. Some people think it's funny to call me 'Egg.' Please don't."

I raised an eyebrow. "Uh... sure. You got it. Consider this room a 'no eggs allowed' fortress."

He frowned. "That would meanI'mnot allowed."

"Ha. Okay, maybe we just declare thateggis a forbidden word." What was with this dude?

He nodded, satisfied. "Likeni, orit," he replied cryptically, before glancing at the bunkbed. "I call bottom bunk."

"You got it. I thought we were going to have to flip a coin or arm-wrestle for the top bunk." I smiled, to show I was at least partly joking.

Aaron's voice went deep and toneless. "To arm wrestle an opponent of your stature to determine sleeping arrangements would be most illogical." He stared at me intently, as if waiting for a response.

"I... is that aStar Trekreference?" I asked, flummoxed. "The alien guy--Spock?"

Relief washed over his face. "Okay, I think we can make this work. Help me with my TV--it's in the van."

"I thought freshman weren't supposed to have TV's in their dorm rooms," I answered.

He was already halfway out the door. "Then don't tell anyone. As far as anybody else is concerned, it's just a monitor for my 486."

* * * * *

* * * * *

He was a strange one, and clearly hadn't gotten out much. That being said, my new roommate and I got along well enough. It became very clear to me after the first week that he had never been responsible for picking up after himself before. I wasn't used to behaving like a neat-freak, but Aaron's tendency to leave his dirty clothes in particular all over the place made me feel like one.

We were both interested in history. His major was Japanese history, and I intended to minor in early American history. We both had an appreciation for pop culture, although he was an even bigger nerd than me. It seemed like every other phrase out of his mouth was a reference to some sci-fi movie or TV show. He also insisted on showing me some bizarre but compelling Japanese cartoons that he calledJapanimation.

Our first weekend hanging out, he withdrew a VHS from his collection under his bed featuring a wild-haired dude wearing goggles and riding what I later discovered was a futuristic motorcycle straight towards the viewer.Akirawas a fascinating experience for me. I was shocked to see animated tits--even briefly--and bloody dismemberment. Aaron watched with occasional glances towards me, to see how I'd react.

"Well?" he asked afterwards, "what did you think? Amazing, right?"

"It... was, yeah," I answered slowly. "And weird. But pretty impressive. A little hard to follow, but the imagery was awesome. Way better than Disney."

Aaron grinned. "Japanese animationisusually way better than Western stuff. I've got a whole bunch. You'll see." He scratched the top of his eyebrow. "It's based onmanga. Comics," he clarified, noting my incomprehension. "Hundreds and hundreds of pages. So they cut a bunch of the story out. That's why it didn't make as much sense."

"We should watchDunesome time," I suggested. "I'm halfway through the book that my girlfriend gave me, and I remember they made a movie of it when I was nine or ten." It seemed like the sort of thing Aaron would like.

"Your girlfriend Cary," Aaron prompted.

"Yeah." I grinned. My first order of business after arriving in the form room, before even meeting Aaron, had been to call Cary and give her the phone number for my dorm room. I quickly discovered that the cord for the cream-colored phone mounted next to the front door was able to stretch to the top bunk without too much trouble--as long as I lay with my head towards the door. I tried to keep from constantly tying up the phone line in consideration for Aaron. Of course, he spent a lot of time tying up the phone line by connecting to AOL and the internet, so I didn't feelthatbad.

For his part, Aaron seemed to regard my having a girlfriend as some sort of mystical achievement, and peppered me with questions. They started as fairly innocent 'how did you meet' and 'what is she like' questions, but after the first week or so, they had started to get a little more invasive. 'Have you guys ever done it' and 'what does she like to wear' made me frown and tell him that sort of stuff was private. Even if Ididfeel like bragging.

Chagrined, he backed off, and I realized that he had probably never even kissed a girl in his life. Once he confirmed that one of his goals freshman year was to finally get a girlfriend, I felt sort of sorry for him, and decided that even though I was no expert, I would try to give him some advice. I saw him flush and turn into a stuttering doofus more than once whenever a girl walked by, and resolved to at least help him to have a real conversation by the time the campus Halloween party rolled around.

Especially after how our first mixer went.

Aaron was clearly psyching himself up to even walk in the door as we approached the building. He had been making comments throughout the day about how fun it would be and how he might even get lucky. To me, it sounded very much like somebody trying to convince himself. I wondered if this was the first party he had ever been to besides birthday celebrations as a kid.

For my part, I found the mixer to be a strange experience--it seemed astonishingly tame after having left high school with an alcohol-fueled high-concept sex-soiree. By comparison, a group of nervous freshmen of varying levels of life experience all trying to seem sophisticated and clever felt more to me like a high school party. Especially since college staff were on-hand to answer questions, it gave the feeling of being chaperoned by "real adults."

That was where I first noticed that Aaron suffered a sort of social paralysis around girls. He had only attended the party under my strong encouragement to begin with. I spent a fair amount of time hanging out near the edge of the room, talking with some of the history majors, and Aaron joined me. One of our little group was a bespectacled dark-haired girl almost as tall as me, wearing jeans, flannel, and a pink tube-top underneath. She was pretty enough to draw a glance from me. Aaron on the other hand couldn't take his eyes off her--especially after she made mention of a TV show calledSailor Moonthat Aaron evidently recognized.

She asked about my ring (which I wore everywhere except to sleep or in the shower), and I told her it was from my girlfriend. After that, she introduced herself to me as Beth, and hung around the small group for the rest of the evening. Which meant that Aaron hung around for the rest of the evening. I suppose knowing that I was already spoken for made me seem like a "safe" guy.

Every time I tried to bring Aaron into the conversation, he froze or mumbled. The rest of the group was pretty forgiving of his awkwardness, and Beth's eyes lit up when Alex stuttered that his major was Japanese history. When it seemed clear that he was incapable of getting more than a few words out, I came to his rescue and helped carry the conversation until he was able to nod along or insert a monosyllable or two in support or agreement.

He sure didn't seem to be having much fun--to say nothing of getting within a mile of his intention to 'get lucky.' When the DJ turned up the music and started encouraging people to dance, I put down my Pepsi with an eyeroll and nudged Aaron. "Come on, dude. We should at least make an attempt."

Beth's eyes widened. "You guys are gonna dance? Let's go!" She pulled a few of the other girls along with her. Some danced enthusiastically, others seemed about as excited as Aaron, who may as well have been an oak tree rooted to the ground. He gave me a goggle-eyed glare and shook his head almost imperceptibly. I leaned towards him and said quietly "It's no big deal. And girls like it when you dance. Come on, all you have to do is stand near the edge and sort of lean back and forth with the music."

He followed like a man being herded to his execution. But to his credit, he followed my instructions almost to the letter. I danced as a social obligation to try to make other people more comfortable--this was nothing compared to the excited stress of ballroom dancing in front of a bunch of horny swingers and working to keep an eye on my girlfriend as other guys tried to feel her up. Beth stayed near Aaron and me, and danced badly nearby, mostly consisting of a sort of bouncing two-step that looked like something out of an old Cyndi Lauper video. I would rather have watched Cary dance any day of the week, but Aaron was captivated.

When she threw her hands up, her flannel flapped open, revealing her belly beneath her tube top. I thought Aaron was about to pass out. After a few minutes, I returned to the edge of the room and looked at the clock: I'd danced enough, and Aaron needed a way out. "All right," I said to our small group. "It's been real. Good to meet you all. I need some fresh air."

Aaron and I took the long way around to our dorm, getting a cool breeze as we walked. The yellow-orange sodium lights glared across the quad, throwing our shadows tall and distended against the square columns of a nearby building. Aaron blew out a sigh. "Beth was a total babe.Schwing!I'd love to go out with her."

Knowing that it was goading, but also feeling like Aaron could benefit from some gentle pressure, I raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't you ask her out?"

"Ha!" His confidence--which had been growing in direct proportion to our distance from the party--evaporated instantly. "Easy for you to say. She was listening to every wordyousaid."

"She was listening toeverybody," I answered. "If you had said more than a couple of words, she would have listened to them, too. She seemed really interested in your major. And you clearly recognized herMoon Sailorreference."

"Sailor Moon," he corrected. "It's another Japanimation."

"See?" I chuckled. "You found probably the only other person on campus who knows what that is. You should talk to her."

"It's not as simple as you make it look," he groused. "I don't know how you just...doit."

I tried to keep from frowning. "The same way you're talking to me now. Find something you both like and talk about it. Or find something you know nothing about and ask about it. Girls have interests and lives just like guys do. They're not magic--they pee and fart just like the rest of us." Maybe growing up with an older sister had kept me from forming some of the mystique around girls that some guys built up in their brains.

Aaron's face registered a combination of amusement and shock. "Even Cary?"

I laughed, despite the stab of yearning her mention summoned. "Ha. Yeah, even Cary." I touched my ring unconsciously with my thumb as I said her name, and Aaron's gaze went to my hand.