Love and Other Things I'm Bad At (8 page)

9/13

Got home from phoning unsuspecting alumni and received very disturbing emails from naïve Mom. She has suddenly gone from not dating to being romanced by a chat-room guy.

She forwarded me a couple of emails he wrote and asked my opinion. Didn’t he seem like a great guy to me? she asked. SEEM being the operative word here. Here’s our email exchange:

Mom—

I’m slightly worried about this Internet Romance Idea of yours. What about meeting guys in person? What about that guy in your book club? You said he was nice and sweet and you liked the same books. You really need to be careful. Haven’t you told me a hundred billion times not to do risky things like this? Promise me you won’t agree to meet this guy in person!!! —C

Bryan—

You have got to keep an eye on Mom! She’s getting swept away by guy in chat room who is at best a psycho and at worst a serial killer. Don’t let her make any dates, and keep track of her, wherever she goes. —C

Courtney—

She’s already met the chat-room guy. He’s fine, harmless, bald, boring as hell. Don’t worry.

—Bryan

Like I trust Bryan’s opinion on anything involving romance, the heart, etc.? He pined after Beth for 5 years and then somehow convinced her to date him. Still don’t understand that, 1 year later.

Anyway, I should be glad Mom is at least showing interest in the dating thing. If she finds someone she really likes, that will be great. I just don’t want him to be the kind of person who turns out to be—well, just like Dad.

Must call Alison now and ask her to intervene. Mom will listen to Alison because she’s the oldest and because she’s—well—better at this stuff than me. Has had stable relationship with Jessie for almost a year. Of course, they go to the same
college
, so that helps.

I really do need to stop resenting everyone else on the planet. Especially when they’re my siblings.

9/14

You know how sometimes your friends don’t get along? And you’re the link and you feel really awkward because of it? Tried to hang out with Mark and Thyme today. I had already planned on lunch with Thyme, and Mark invited himself along. Mark had already told me he thought Thyme’s hair was cool but that he hated the rest of her neo-hippie look. Since he comments on everyone’s hair and clothes, I didn’t think much of it—until they got into a raging argument while we waited for a table. Thyme insisted we wait so we could sit in non-smoking; Mark insisted we sit at the counter so he could smoke. Since I’m used to hanging out with Beth, who used to smoke, it didn’t really matter one way or the other to me. Thyme thought I was taking Mark’s side and stormed out. I thought maybe I should go after her but just then one of the waitresses walked by with a yummy-looking giant salad on her tray and I decided not to.

“You’re not having a malt?” Mark asked after we ordered. “Are you high?”

(Why does everyone keep asking me that?)

I laughed. “No, actually, I’m LI.”

“You’re from Long Island? I thought you were from Denver.”

I hit his arm. “No, it’s my stomach. It’s a condition.”

Mark unwrapped his straw as he thought this over. Then his nose wrinkled, like he’d just thought something sort of gross. “You have a problem with your large intestine?”

I couldn’t stop laughing. “No! Well, sort of. I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Oh. What a drag. That’s kind of like me and cheap hair products.” He shivered. “I break out in hives if it’s not salon quality.”

Mark slurped his chocolate malt when it came, topped with this perfect pinnacle of whipped cream. My mouth watered. Of course it was impossible for me to tell him that I really wanted a sip now. Have to wait until we’re better friends.

9/15

Thyme came in to visit me at work today—she said it was to make up for being so crabby yesterday, and because she always needs to drink extra coffee when it’s raining steadily, but I think it’s only because she’s obsessed with Ben. He’s a great guy and she’s my best friend here, so I’ll do what I can, but I think she pretty much blew it today.

She came in and tried to start this in-depth conversation with Ben, telling him her opinions on men, women, world peace, harmony, life after death, etc.

I mean, all she really had to do was ask him questions about himself or tell him the onion bagels were good, or something simple like that. But no. She got into the concepts of how you need to open yourself up and be Zenlike and how the Bagle Finagle stores could really use some feng shui.

“So where are you from? California?” Ben asked her.

“Um, no, outside Chicago,” Thyme said.

“Really? Where? I grew up in Chicago,” Ben said.

“Oh, um.” Thyme looked sort of uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Are those tomatoes organic?”

I put my hands on my hips. “What do
you
think?”

“Is that margarine or unsalted butter?” she asked next.

Ben gave me this sideways glance, like: what’s up with that? “So where did you say you were from?” he asked.

“Well, technically I was born a little north of Chicago. On the lake,” Thyme said.

“Uh huh. Where exactly?” Ben asked.

“Ummmmm . . . in Sheboygan,” Thyme finally said.

“But that’s in Wisconsin,” Ben said. “You said you were from Chicago. It’s not really all that close.”

“Okay, well maybe technically I guess you could say I lived there my whole life. But inside, I always considered myself a
Chicagoan
,” Thyme said, sounding really lame to me all of a sudden. Who lies about where they’re from? What’s the point?

Just then Jennifer came up and told us our break was over, and had been over for 5 minutes, didn’t we pay attention to the clock? It was like getting caught talking in class. But to be honest, I was sort of relieved.

“The phony Buddhist from Sheboygan. Now I’ve seen everything,” Ben muttered as we slid sheets of hot bagels into baskets. “How do you know her exactly?”

“Oh, um, she lives across the hall from me,” I said. Not getting into the fact that she was the closest thing to a friend I had on campus. If she’s a phony, I guess it’s better to know now. But I thought she had passionate ideas about fibers and fabrics and free-range animals. I don’t think she has a chance in hell with Ben. I wonder if she knows that now.

9/16

What a weird, great day. Still trying to absorb everything that happened. Like soggy ground, I can only absorb so much more at this point.

Last night’s rah-rah bonfire was rained out, literally—the rain put out the fire. Does not smell like team spirit. Smells like mildew. Even outside. Today was still drizzling and soggy; everyone showing off latest umbrella styles and rain gear at the football game.

When we got there, it turned out that it was “Highlighting Student Activities Day.” And all these different groups, from dancers to backgammon clubs, etc., had booths set up with paper banners that had been highlighted with neon green, pink, orange, etc. Very colorful, except the rain had gotten the banners wet and the letters were all runny and streaked and it was hard to determine what each group was, unless you stopped, made eye contact, collected handout.

We circulated: me, Thyme, Mary Jo, Tricia, Anne-marie, Peña. Everyone. It was funny because we were all moving at different speeds; some of us raced by certain booths, while others stopped to sign up. And vice versa. I was thinking maybe this place wasn’t so bad. There really is something for everyone here. It truly is a microcosm or macrocosm or, at the very least, cosmic. In the background, football was going on. Mud flying through the air. Random cheers and sounds of helmets crushing into pads.

We were standing by this booth that was the only one smart enough to have a banner not written in highlighter—they had a real sewn banner made of cloth, as if the group has been here forever. Students for Change. And they had signs up that said
QUESTION AUTHORITY
and
EDUCATE YOURSELF
and
HOW LIBERAL IS YOUR LIBERAL ARTS INSTITUTION?

“Have you heard about the Campus Badicals?” this really nice girl asked me. She handed me a brochure.

“These people are like, so on the fringe?” Tricia said when the girl started talking to someone else. “Everything’s going really well here, everything’s
fine
? But they have to change everything or complain about it or whatever?”

“I don’t know—there’s always room for improvement,” Annemarie said. “Don’t you think, Courtney?”

“Definitely,” I said. “Like,
lots
of room.” Everyone sort of moved ahead, but I was still checking out the stuff on the table.

Just then the cheerleaders started up with their “C—F—C! C—F—C!” chant. I joked to the girl behind the table how it was really distressing to hear that our college initials represented a harmful chemical. And that we were all supposed to chant along, like we were cheering for the destruction of the ozone layer, like CFCs hadn’t been phased out, or as if they should be phased back
in
or something.

Suddenly everyone at the booth was gazing at me like I had just invented tofu.

“Finally. A fresh voice,” the girl said.

Like I was the new Dalai Lama. A freshperson born in the wilderness, the 7th child of . . . well, whatever. They all jumped up and introduced themselves and shook my hand and insisted I come to a meeting tomorrow.

“Cool,” Annemarie said. “Maybe I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t even know what you were talking about.” Mary Jo was looking at me with some sort of newfound respect, or maybe just bafflement. Impressed that I could impress someone, I guess.

“So what do they want you to, like,
do
?” Tricia asked. “I don’t know what you guys were talking about. But that group is always in the campus newspaper?”

Thyme was suddenly nowhere to be found. Odd, because this was totally her kind of group, too. I’ll ask her to go with me and Annemarie tomorrow.

Tonight we all rented multiple movies, and I must go because next showing is starting.

9/17

Went to the Campus Badicals meeting today. Annemarie went with me, also Thyme. We were kind of intimidated, so it was good to go as a group. We had tried to check out the group’s history beforehand, but Krystyne didn’t know much except that they got arrested once. Thyme said she wouldn’t mind getting arrested; the weekends had been sort of boring lately, right? We laughed nervously as we entered the basement of the student union.

Room was half full. It turned out my idea to revise the college initials was the topic of the meeting. Someone mentioned that I had a brilliant insight and could I share it? So I did, and all of sudden it was the main and only issue of the group. Someone insisted a focus/splinter group be formed immediately, then everyone joined the focus group.

It was so exciting I completely forgot about the RBGH meeting afterward, came running home to call Grant. But then remembered our pledge not to call this week. Then called anyway. He wasn’t home, so I hung up quickly so as not to be busted on breaking the not-calling pledge.

I want to tell him everything. It feels very weird to go through a weekend without him. How can I be going through the most exciting stuff yet and not call him? Okay, so I’ve been emailing 3, 4 times a day. Maybe that’s enough, but it’s still not the same.

9/18

Came home after work and Mary Jo was on the phone. Which was lousy because I really wanted to call Grant. Our 1-week break was over and I was dying to talk to him. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited. She was laughing and talking about cows and then about how helpful a good dog can be on the farm, and how much she missed her dogs, and what the best kind of dogs are, etc.

So then Mary Jo says, “Well, it’s been fun talking to you, but Courtney just got home, so . . .” I expected her to say, “’Bye, Mom,” or “’Bye, Aunt Peggy” or whatever. Then she said, “So here she is, Grant. Good luck in biology!” She handed the phone to me as I nearly fell off the bed. Grant and Mary Jo are hitting it off, sounding like old buds? They’re having better phone conversations than we do, and we haven’t even
talked
for a week, and now somehow Mary Jo has an in with him and I don’t?

How can I be jealous of Mary Jo? But I am. She and Grant have so much in common. She probably knows tons about being a vet; has probably delivered baby cows before, the way they do on those prairie kids TV shows. She can talk to the animals. So can Grant.

I felt really sick to my stomach all of a sudden. There was so much I hadn’t considered yet, so much to get really worried about. If there’s a girl like this here, there’s definitely a girl like that there. In Grant’s classes. Horse-whispering girl from Colorado ranch. Rodeo-riding gal from Wyoming. Someone he’d been talking to all week when he
hadn’t
been talking to me. Okay, so it was my idea to not call, to save money, but he didn’t have to just go along with it, without a fight.

“Courtney? Are you there?” Grant asked when I didn’t say anything, because jealousy had commandeered my brain.

“Um, I don’t feel very good. I’ll call you back,” I told him. I hung up the phone.

Mary Jo gave me this little innocent smile. “You’re not feeling well? Is there anything I can get you?”

Fantasy reply: “How about a new roommate who isn’t cute and knows nothing about vet science. That would be good.”

Actual reply: “No, I’ll be okay, but thanks.” Returned little innocent smile. Ran to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face. Tried to stop freaking out.

Will call Grant tomorrow morning when she’s not here.

9/19

Working for Jennifer is killing me. Today she started this new stupid system where there’s a board with our names on it, and we have to mark down where we are “at any given time.” Like, even when we go to the bathroom. She has this board and when you leave your “post” you have to put a “code” on it, and a “time estimate.” Like I’m telling people what I’m in the bathroom for? Is she insane?

“She needs more codes,” Mark said after she explained the board to us and went back to her office. “What do I write down when I’m going to the bathroom to sneak a smoke?”

“And what do I write for ‘went to bathroom to escape the sound of her
voice
?’” Ben asked.

“What is the code for ‘I quit’?” I asked.

It’s a good thing everyone I work with is so cool. Because it takes a village to counterbalance Jennifer’s uncool.

Someone was trying to put up a flyer for a local band’s concert, and then someone came by to post a sign for a meeting of Kids with Kids, a group that helps people like my stepsister. Jennifer came along and took them all off the bulletin board as soon as they had left.

“If you were going to do that, you should have told them,” I said. “They could post them somewhere else and save paper.”

“Not to mention the fact that there’s such a thing as free speech,” Ben said.

“And there’s also such a thing as turning a profit,” Jennifer said. “We can’t afford to post all these flyers when we have wealthy advertisers who pay us to put up things.” She flounced around, picking up stray crumbs and straw wrappers.

“Yeah, and this campus needs more ad space for magazine subscription services,” I told Ben as I scrubbed the cutting boards. “Because we all need to get
Ice
Fishing
and
Wisconsin
Brat
Hunter
.”

Ben started laughing. “You don’t
hunt
brats, Courtney.”

“Oh. Do they just come to you, then?” I asked.

Jennifer slammed down an empty napkin dispenser in front of me and nearly broke the glass counter. “There’s nothing wrong with sausage. If you’d just try some, you’d know. Okay?”

“I know,” I said. “I’ve had hot dogs.”

“It’s not the same at all,” Jennifer scoffed.

Mark put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t get too mad at Courtney. She’s led a sheltered life, you know. She’s a brat virgin.”

Brat Virgin. I love it. It’s like the name of a band.

Mark, Ben, and I were laughing so hard we couldn’t hear what Jennifer said. It was something like “You guys get back to work” blah blah blah. The usual. We ignored her.