Short Story 01 Gina

Short Story -- I: Gina

My wife, Katie, died four years ago in an automobile accident, hit by some drunk guy. The state troopers at the scene said his blood alcohol level was twice the legal limit and had several previous DUI convictions but somehow had managed to keep his driver's license

.

My civil suit against him has been bouncing around the courts for three years now, with no end in sight. I want it to be over, for me, but especially for Terri, my -- our -- daughter.

Terri -- "Theresa" (what can I say -- my late wife had a thing for tortured Catholic saints) -- just turned 19 and is in her first year at college. This is her first real time away from home -- by which I mean, her first real time away from me.

The university housing office assigned her a roommate. Or, more accurately, since Terri is the newbie,

she

was the one who was the new roommate. She was assigned to a suite in the Lexington Towers housing complex with another girl named Gina

.

Gina is a year older than Terri and in her second year of college. (I don't know if they call them "sophomores" any more. Or perhaps that's too sophomoric these days?)

Anyhow, Terri raved about her new roommate from the very start -- how much fun she is, what a great roommate, how smart she is, and also, about how beautiful she is. The strange thing, though, was that whenever Terri talked about Gina's good looks, there always seemed to be this note of reservation or qualification. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it was definitely there.

Terri's first year was going well. I was able to drive up to the University once during the term, and then all of a sudden it was the Christmas holidays and Terri was home with me for almost two weeks. In one way, it was like nothing had changed -- my daughter and I picked up right where we'd left things in the fall -- just the way we've been for the past four years, since her mother...

But in another way, things were different. Of course they were. Much as I might wish it otherwise, she was no longer "my little girl." She was a young woman now, taking those first steps, venturing out into the world, a world much larger than her home and her room and her high school friends. And that's as it should be. Still, as her dad,...

Anyway, her Christmas holiday was over all too soon for me, although it was obvious after the first week that she was getting antsy to return to college and her life there. I understood. All I could do was look forward to her spring break holiday.

Then, about a week before I was to pick her up to bring her home for spring break, she phoned to ask if it would be okay if Gina came home with her over spring break. It seems that Gina's financially well-off family were going on a skiing holiday to Gstaad, Switzerland, then, and they'd asked Gina to come, but she felt that she had too much work to do and couldn't afford the disruption of an international trip. Terri, not wanting to see her roommate having to spend the whole break alone in their dorm suite, thought that the perfect solution would be for Gina to come home with her.

Of course, I had absolutely zero problem with the idea. I thought it was great that Terri would think of inviting her roommate to stay with us. Besides, it might be nice, and having a couple of enthusiastic, energetic college girls around would be good for an old man like me. Well, not

that

old, but... older.

Despite the fact that they've been roommates for six months now, I'd never actually met Gina. It seems that she was always arriving later or leaving earlier or visiting friends elsewhere, so I was eager to finally meet this amazing roommate that my daughter has been raving about all this time.

The plan was for me to drive up and bring Terri and Gina -- and their luggage, and their school projects, and their laundry -- back home with us. The day before I was to drive up, Terri called so we could arrange times, plus any stops they might want to make on the way home. Then, after we'd finished up with all the practicalities, she said, "Dad, there's something I should give you a heads-up about."

That took me by surprise. I didn't think we'd talked about anything that would require a "heads-up," so I was of course curious -- and maybe a little bit concerned.

"What is it, Sweetheart?" And I waited.

"Dad, you know how much I've talked about Gina. And everything I've told you is true -- she's smart and funny and a great roommate, and I'm really lucky to have her, as a roommate and as a friend."

I could hear the "But..." coming.

"But there's something else you should know about Gina." She paused, hoping to find just the right way to say what it was she wanted to say. "Gina's a dwarf. Or a midget -- she says she doesn't care which word. But anyway, she's absolutely great, and I know you'll like her -- that you'll like each other -- but I just didn't want there to be any awkwardness when you meet each other. I told her I was going to do this -- in fairness to you, and to her, too -- and she said that I probably knew my dad and that I should do what I thought was best."

And it hit me: While Terri had shown me what seemed like dozens of 'selfie' pictures of her and Gina on her phone, and Terri was right -- Gina was a lovely girl-becoming-a-woman, with beautiful wavy rich dark hair and dark, intelligent eyes, and a great smile that suggested a cheerful disposition -- all the pictures of Gina I'd seen showed only her upper body. I'd never seen a full-length picture of her.

"So you're saying that she -- that Gina -- suffers from..."

And before I could say another word, Terri jumped in. "

STOP!

Gina doesn't

suffer

from

anything...

except maybe not being able to reach things on the top grocery shelf."

I felt like a fool. "Oh, Sweetheart, I'm sorry, I never meant to insult..."

"No, Dad, I'm sorry. You didn't say anything insulting. Maybe I jumped a little too fast." I experienced an immediate sense of relief, but I still felt a little guilty. "The thing is, you don't need to feel sorry for Gina, about anything. She's strong and healthy and there's almost nothing she can't do," she paused for a moment, "... except for maybe that grocery thing." She laughed, and I laughed, and any tension that was left from before was gone.

This was important, and I wanted to be sure to get it right so I wouldn't hurt Gina, heaven forbid, or even embarrass Terri.

"Terri, Honey, please -- I don't want to make any mistakes. I've heard that they prefer to be referred to as 'little people' -- is that right?

"Dad, first,

she

prefers to be 'referred to' as Gina. Second, she hates the term 'little people.' She says it sounds like some kind of Disney cartoon characters, like

"Darby O'Gill and the Little People"

or something. So 'little people' is definitely out.

I had to ask.

"So,..., " I was going to say "how short" is she, but then I realized that was just a half-a-step away from asking, "So, how much of a midget is she?" I decided on the more positive angle.

"How tall is Gina, Terri?"

"I've never been crass enough to whip out a tape measure, but I'd say she's maybe a foot shorter than me, and I'm 5'-4", so..."

So maybe 4'-4", give or take. Okay, just so long as I knew, I was ready.

* * * * *

I left bright and early (is it ever "dull and early"?) Saturday morning. I was looking forward to the trip for several reasons. First, since when I drove Terri back to school after Christmas break I haven't been farther from home than the supermarket or Home Depot, so I was eager for the chance to get away. Second, of course, I looked forward to seeing my wonderful daughter again. Finally, I found myself kind of eager to meet Gina.

First things first, though. If you have a son or daughter away at school, you know how chaotic it can be at the beginning or end of term or at break times, with all the parents and all their cars (and vans, and even trailers). And they all want the same thing you want: a parking spot, hopefully right next to their child's dorm or apartment.

I lucked-out and found a spot I could squeeze into that was only a block and a half from Terri's dorm. I locked up (city habit), and when I got to the dorm lobby I buzzed their room. A young woman's voice -- not Terri's -- came over the tinny intercom speaker, telling me to come on up "as soon as you can get an elevator."

She was right. I queued-up for an elevator, and in a few minutes I and seven other parents were trundling up -- in this case, to the sixth floor. And you can imagine how happy I was when the door opened -- and there was my daughter, standing there, huge smile on her face, waiting to hug her old Dad.

She took my hand and walked me to their "suite." She'd left the door open, so we just walked in. I was delighted to see that she -- they -- were already packed and ready to go. I recognized Terri's huge suitcase and her smaller carry-on sized bag, and two similar suitcases that must be Gina's. In addition, there were two lumpy canvas bags stuffed to bursting with what had to be laundry. (I've often thought that doing laundry -- or better yet, having Mom do it -- was the principle reason that college kids come home at all).

I heard some commotion coming from the open door on the opposite side of the room, and a female voice called,

"Ter -- have you seen...?"

and a young dark-haired woman came out to finish her question, "... that last issue of

The Economist

?"

And I got my first look at Gina. I had expected to see a college kid -- a college

woman

-- and that's what I saw. The luxurious dark hair, of course, which now that I was able to get a good look at it turns out to be either very dark brown with a reddish hue, or else red hair that's so dark it's almost brown. In any case, draped over her shoulders, and with her dark eyes, they gave her an almost exotic, almost mysterious look. Her features seemed to hint at some Latin or Mediterranean heritage.

And, yes, she was short. I'm average-average height, about 5'-10". Gina appeared to be more than a foot shorter than me, so Terri's guesstimate of 4'-4" or so was probably pretty close. The main point was, I was expecting to meet a girl "about this tall," and that's who I met.

My daughter replied sarcastically, "No, and can't you even say 'Hi' to my dad?"

Gina looked over to me, and the smile was right there. You know how there are some people that from the moment you first meet them you feel like you've known them for years? Well, that was Gina.

She held out her hand. I took it automatically, and once I was holding it I was struck by how much smaller it was than any other "adult" hand I'd held. Also, it seemed like her fingers might be just the least bit short, but I couldn't really be sure. Her skin was soft, and her grip was firm and confident.

"Hi, Mr. D! Terri's talked about you so much it feels like I already know you."

I attempted to reply with similar aplomb. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Gina." Then I took a chance and at the risk of being "inappropriate" added, enthusiastically, "Terri keeps telling me how beautiful you are, but she's been such a terrible liar since she was five that I didn't really believe her.

"

I think my attempt at a smooth, off-handed compliment embarrassed Gina a little -- and I could tell it embarrassed Terri -- but Gina handled it well. "I've really been looking forward to spending spring break with you and Terri..." and then she added, to my puzzlement, "... and especially now that I've met you."

Huh?

Anyhow, my daughter said, "We'd better get going -- it's gonna be a freakin' zoo at the elevators." Gina suggested that we try the service elevator, and in two minutes I was walking to get the car and pick the girls up out front.

On the drive home, I mentioned, "Gina, you know, since we're going to be together the next nine days you can call me Ellis, or even El."

Gina chirped happily, "Thanks, but if it's OK with you I think I'll stick with 'Mr. D'."

Well, I guess it's still better than "Mr. Davidovich."

* * * * *

As soon as we pulled into the driveway and I stopped the car, Terri pulled Gina into the house to show her around.

"Sure, leave me all by myself to bring in all your stuff."

Terri didn't even acknowledge my mock complaint. Secretly, I was happy to bring in all their luggage and other possessions. It gave me the chance to be "Dad" again, taking care of his little girl.

Meanwhile, I assumed that Terri was showing Gina where everything was and helping her put her stuff in what would be Gina's bedroom, though in fact, I was pretty sure that no matter whose room was whose, the girls would end up spending most of their time together in one room or the other...

Leaving me to think some more about our house guest for the next nine days.

What's to think? Gina seemed to be a bright, cheerful college girl-young woman who was obviously very close to my daughter and seemed comfortable enough with me and did not appear to have any annoying qualities (yet!), so there really wasn't that much to think about.

On the other hand, there was that curious remark back at their dorm room: "... especially now that I've met you."

* * * * *

Once the girls (yes, and no matter how much you try to "educate" me, I'm still going to think of them as girls) got unpacked and got all their cosmetics and toiletries arrayed and had something to eat, they decided to go to the Plaza and do some shopping.

They got home a few hours later. It looked like both of them had bought some things, but they didn't offer to show me so I didn't pry.

What they did say was that they were

famished!

I knew they'd want a change from two months of dorm food so I had picked up some steaks -- beautiful rib-eyes from Vito's, the speciality butcher. I fired up the grill and prepped some potatoes -- russets, thin-sliced onions, some good olive oil, rosemary, oregano, a dash of seasoned salt -- sealed everything in a foil pouch, and put it on the grill. While I was doing that, the girls -- pardon me --

Terri and Gina

-- put together a tossed salad.

Terri set the table and we enjoyed dinner out on the patio. It was still nice after dinner, so we all agreed "What the heck." I opened a bottle of an easy-to-drink red blend and we sat there talking until almost ten.

It was late, and we'd had a long day -- plus there was the wine -- so we all decided it was time to head for bed..

As I suspected, there was no way Terri and Gina were ready to call it a night -- they still had far too much to talk about. At college they each have their own bedrooms in their suite. Tonight, though, there was just too much that they wanted to share, so as I expected, Terri grabbed a cushion from a pool lounge chair, got some sheets and a blanket and some pillows from her room, and dragged everything into Gina's room. The last thing I remember before falling asleep were the delightful sounds of my daughter and her friend, talking and giggling.

* * * * *

Despite Terri's and Gina's late-night talkfest, I was the one who ended up sleeping in. When I finally got myself up and washed and shaved, the girls already had a pot of coffee going and were all set to make omelettes. I offered to help, but Gina told me to just sit at the table and drink my coffee -- she and Terri had everything under control.

With no apparent effort, the two whipped up a gorgeous Gouda cheese-and-tomato skillet omelette, even adding some fresh thyme leaves from the big terra cotta planter on the patio. Where did my daughter learn to cook like this, and how did she know about these little touches that turned the very utilitarian scrambled eggs that I've prepared for us since Katie... since Katie... into something as splendid as this creation?

But I already knew the answer: my little girl was growing up, learning new things, preparing herself for the time...

Was her dad also preparing for that time?

The girls made me sit and enjoy my coffee and read the sports pages while they cleared the table and put the dishes in the washer and gently cleaned the old cast iron skillet they made the omelette in. Then they decided to do some of the schoolwork they'd brought home with them so they'd have more free time to do other stuff during the coming week.

The weather wasn't really warm enough to swim, and our pool isn't heated (for us, even having a pool is a luxury). But it was sunny, and sitting by the pool was pleasant. In fact, Terri and Gina decided that by afternoon it was warm enough to do some sunbathing. I think both girls had hopes of returning to school with gorgeous tans that all the other girls would envy.

My work allowed me a lot of control over my schedule, so I'd arranged to be free for most of the time that the girls were here and I was already out "working" by the pool, if you get my drift.

I was surprised when Terri came out. First, I'd never seen her in that swim suit. And I have to tell you -- it was a lot smaller than most fathers would like their daughters to wear in public.

"Whadduya think, Dad? I got it yesterday when we went shopping at the Plaza. Fits great, doesn't it?"

"Fits great"

are not the first words I would have thought of to describe her outfit. In fact, the word that came to mind was

skimpy

. But then I realized, she's not a little girl any more, and besides, I persuaded myself that it's OK because we're not really "in public." Sure, that's it.

Then Gina came out. She was wearing a bikini that was almost identical to Terri's new suit, except that Terri's was an intense, high-saturation yellow while Gina's was a leopard-print design. Or maybe it was a cheetah print. But instead of being the typical yellow-brown-black jungle print, her "cheetah" was intense shades of violet -- perfect for her, with her dark hair and her eyes and her skin, which I could now see had a slight olive hue, furthering my suspicion of Latin or Mediterranean ancestry.

And the overall effect was stunning. To tell the truth, I was even a bit shocked. I guess I shouldn't have been. But nevertheless, I was surprised that a girl "like Gina" -- and I know how terrible that sounds when I say it like that -- could strike me as so -- I'll try to be classy here -- "attractive."

I know. You want to know just exactly how "attractive" she was, right? Well, to put it crassly, her breasts filled out her leopard bikini top quite nicely -- not enormous, not small, just nice for her size, or I should say, for the size of her torso (body? chest? -- I guess I'm going to have to learn how to talk about her, and about her body).

And now that that body was "on display," so to speak, I could see that her torso, from neck to... well, to you-know-where... was shorter than most, but proportional for her height. And seeing the whole picture, I noticed that her arms might be just a little bit short, and that her hands were, indeed, kind of small for her body.

Beneath that attractively-filled-out bikini top her body tapered to a nice waist, not narrow, but a healthy, proportional waist that flared into hips that were nicely accented by the leopard whose job it was to hug and highlight them.

It was there that her proportions began to change. Her hips and thighs were just a little -- thicker, I guess is the word -- than... than what you might expect from her upper body. It's hard to explain, but they were kind of like -- I hate to say this, but like I said, I'm still trying to learn how to talk about Gina's body without being crude or insulting or condescending. But... oh, yeah... her thighs and calfs were thicker, but they had a lovely shape and they were proportional to each other. In fact, now that I put things together, Gina's legs were like a pair of beautiful legs that have been "compressed" slightly to match her height.