Ariadne's Thread

I see myself in ten years, alone, with lots of money and no friends to speak of. I want to reach out to someone, but when I get close, I just fade away.

The girl I am seeing right now is a very attractive. I met her at a bar. I walked her home, to her apartment, then I spent the night. I woke up early, and just stared out her window for hours. Her apartment has a nice view, you can see the whole city. It's nice to look at things when they are not that busy; the sun lights up the with a red fluorescence and everything is still. The view reminded me of the first time I had sex. I thought I loved her, and then she just stopped calling. I sent roses, letters, but no reply. I saw her the other day on campus, but she was with another man. He was older than she was and had a beard. She never liked it when I had one.

Carla, the woman I met in a bar, works in an ad firm doing consulting and some accounting stuff. I don't pay attention to what she does. Carla works about fifty hours a week and makes really good money. She is older than me by a couple of years, and I think that bothers her. It bothers me. Still, she wants me to move in. I haven't given her an answer yet.

We are suppose to go meet her parents tonight, and she wants me to look my best. I shave. I haven't shaved in about a week. I hate dressing up, makes me look funny. Carla is wearing a silk dress that is tight; it shows everything. I know what those things look like under her dress. I know what makes them feel good. I wonder how many other guys know what I do. I know she wants this night to go well. I'll try.

I should be studying for the test I have tomorrow, but I don't want to spoil things for Carla. Even if I stayed home, I don't think I'd study; have an 'A' in that class anyway; the teacher likes me. Carla has been wanting to meet her parents for a while. I know it's important, so I go.

Her parents live about forty minutes away from the city, and the drive is long. Rush hour traffic in Chicago is hell. I am impatient when things are at a stand-still. I lean on my horn, and shout obscenities to the guy in front of me. He can't hear me, but the thought is there. I hate when cars are bumper to bumper, there is no way out, if you need one. It's all just a stand-still. Horns. People. Anger. It's all at a stand-still. Carla tries to calm me by rubbing her hand up my thigh. It works. I don't want to get too excited.

I have never met her parents. I have talked to them on the phone, but never met them. Carla has told me about them. Her dad's a doctor, her mom is a nurse. That's how they met; the medical family. Her father was disappointed when she didn't want to go into medicine. Carla doesn't like science and hates when I talk about it. What else am I suppose to talk about, it's my life.

"This is it," she says "Turn here."

"Okay. Do I look okay?

"You look great," she says.

Her parents are glad to see her, it's been a while they say. Her father is an older man, well built for his age. He places his hand on my shoulder and leads me into his study. Carla's moms, who is younger than her father, takes her to another room. I think the kitchen, maybe the den. They disappear behind the corner. I don't ever feel safe in new situations. If you need to get out, there is no way to find the exit. I want to feel safe as much as I can.

Her dad's study, as he calls it, is filled with old baseball memorabilia. I don't like baseball. But, that doesn't stop him from telling me about each piece. After we have walked around the room once or twice, he switches subjects, from baseball to medicine. He wonders were I have applied. I tell him all over, I just want to get in. He says he knows someone at University of Chicago, someone who could help me get in. I smile. He pats me on the back, like a father to son.

We join Carla and her mom. There are in some room that they call the den. The den has a fireplace and leather coaches. There is bear skin rug by the fireplace, and the ambers from the fire slowly flow out, and scorch the fur. No one seems to notice but me. No one seems to care at all.

This house is a maze. I ask Carla where the bathroom is, and she leads me there. I feel like a child, can't even find my way to the bathroom. She kisses me, and says she'll wait. I feel like a child.

They have given the staff the night off; Carla mom has made dinner. It's an Italian dish that I have never heard of. I am not that cultured. We have wine and talk about goals and other things parents talk about. Her parents tease us about when they will have their first grandchildren. I blush. Carla laughs and smiles funny at me. I have seconds, Carla declines. I still have no idea where the bathroom is.

Before we go, Carla wants to give me a tour. Her parents say they will stay and clean up. She leads me down hallways and corridors. We pop our head in and out of rooms and she tells me about each. In one room, I stop to look at all of her dad's diploma's and certifications. I wonder if that will be me some day: someone with a lot of money and power. I wouldn't live in a house this big though, I'd get lost.

She shows me her old room, and tells me about the first time she had sex her. Her parents were in Fiji on a island cruise. She invited him to stay the night. He was older than she was, maybe by nine years. They were a little drunk, but she said it felt good. It reminds me of the , and I almost want to cry.

Her room has been converted into storage for her mom's old things. There are dusty jewelry boxes all over; cloths, make-up. I thought Carla had a lot of jewelry, but there is no way that she can beat this. I guess I know now where she gets it from.

In her old room, she starts rubbing my leg, up and down with her hand. I know what she wants to do when she gets back to the apartment. She's a little drunk; I only had one glass. We say goodbye, and head for home. On the way, she asks if I love her. I tell sure. I am glad she is drunk, otherwise she'd know I was lying. She can always tell when I am lying.

We get back and have sex, great sex, for her. I have to get up early tomorrow, have a test in Ancient Greek Mythology. I wonder if she feels as good now, as she did the first time in her room. The time that guy who was nine years older touched her for the first time. Does is feel the same? I fall asleep.

I should have studied for this test, instead I went to her parents house. I tell myself not to worry, have an 'A' no matter what happens, the teacher likes me. She asks to see me after class. We spend four of five hours talking, then we have sex. She's just got her Ph.D. She's young and attractive. I hear other professors, in passing, saying how bright she is and what a great future she has. She lives in a small apartment with her son. She graduated magna cum laude from a good Ph.D. program somewhere in Arizona, that's where the father lives. I don't see what every one else thinks is so great about her.

Carla is at work. She works from eight in the morning, until late. I always know when she will get home; she leaves six or seven messages on her answering machine, saying that she loves me and when she'll be getting home. I wish I could do the same. I have been having this affair with Vicky for a few months. I tell her that it is nothing serious, and not to get to close. She still sends love letters to my dorm room. I am never there, so I don't get them. I am always at Carla's. Vicky tells me about them, though. I pretend I know what she is talking about, even though I don't. She says she love me and wants me to do the same. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I don't have the heart to tell Vicky that I am going to move in with Carla. I almost live there now. If I tell her, it might jeopardize things with my grade. I need that 'A'. I'll tell her once the semester is over.

I don't have a lot of classes this year, I did summer school the last three summers to get ahead. All I have now is some all college requirements. There stupid requirements, like Ancient Greek Mythology, there all stupid.

University of Loyola is a nice place to be at night. The walk ways are all lit up and the classrooms are filled with people busy studying. The walk ways look as if they are circuits in some machine, with people moving up and down them. It's an electrical dream just to stand out here and watch people shift from one person to the next, like leaves flying in wind. I can never make out any of there faces, but I can see their shapes. I know that they are human, just like me.

If you stand outside, in the darkness, you can see all of the people but they can't see you. I like to stand out in the quad, in the dark, and look at all the different buildings, and try to see what is going on. Maybe see what people are thinking. Sometimes I see people having sex in the dormitories, or people cramming for tests in the library. I am glad I am almost done with all this. Just a few more weeks, then off to medical school. Just a few more weeks, I tell myself, just a few more weeks.

Carla wants me to open up to her. She wants me to tell her about Angie. I don't like to talk about her. I don't even want to say her name. When we fight, it's about her. I think she feels that she has been honest, and wants me to be. I can't. I love Angie, but she is gone. She is with some guy with a beard. Carla doesn't mind that I have one. Maybe that's why I stay. Maybe that's why I don't tell her about Vicky.

When I get home from campus, it's pretty late. Carla isn't home yet. I check the machine. She'll be home is an hour. I fix dinner. She comes home, changes, and then comes out and says,

"Do you want to move in?"

"Sure." I say.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'll bring the rest of my stuff from the dorm tomorrow."

"I can help."

"No. Thanks anyway. There is not that much stuff to bring."

She comes over to the table and kisses me, eats then makes love to me. She is happy that I am moving in. I practically live here already so I don't know what the big fuss is about. She thinks it's great. I don't even pay for the rent, so I don't know what she is so happy about. I got to tell Vicky. After I graduate.

Carla drives me to school. I feel like a child. She honks as she drives away. I look up. She has a smile on her face. Maybe I should have said I wouldn't move in, but then she might think that I didn't want to evolve. She wants to marry me, I think. I still don't know what I want to do. The sun is just coming up, and it lights the campus with a frosty glow. It looks like the . It makes me think about Angie, and the guy with the beard. I tried to get to close to her. Too close, too fast, too much.

I was a sophomore, she was a freshman. She would call me a wise fool, because that's what a sophomore meant, literally she said. I want to call her, but she probably would just hang up the phone. She hasn't returned my calls in the past. She probably lives with the guy with a beard anyway.

I go to Greek and tell Vicky that I can't see her today. I don't tell her why, but she tries to kiss me as I leave her office. She is doing research on the side that should give the college a lot of money in grants etc., if it turns up anything which it should. The research is going to give her a good name, and if things work out, she wants to move out west. She wants me to move with her. I can't. Medical school I tell her. She says that she could get me in somewhere. I say I'll think about it. I should have told her about Carla.

I haven't been to my African American Art class in weeks. The teacher doesn't care, with four hundred students in a class, how can you? I go anyway just to see what is going on. I sit in the first available seat. It's next to some fat girl with bad acne. I had acne once, but I went to a dermatologist, got rid of it. Carla says my face looks good, but I often wonder if she is telling me the truth. I live with her, now, so I have to trust her, I suppose. The fat girl wakes me up; the class is over. These stupid all college requirements.

Carla is waiting for me when I get home with my things from the dorm. She is smiling, holding a letter.

"It's from the University of Chicago."

"Oh."

"Aren't you excited?"

"Yeah, just a little tired."

"Well, open it."

The letter says that I have been excepted to the medical program. Carla is jumping around the apartment before I tell her what it says. She puts on a Prince CD, and turns the stereo on full blast.

"You're going to wake up the neighbors"

"Who cares, I am going to be married to a doctor."

"Yeah. Don't get your hopes up," I say, slightly smiling.

She laughs, and pours the wine. I thought that she might call her father and tell him that I was moving in. I know that he had something to do with this, me being accepted so quickly. I don't care. I can tell Vicky that it is over, the 'A' doesn't matter anymore. She'll be moving in a year or so to the West coast, with her son.