© 2012, 2021
by BADSAM
Pierre and Roxanne have an unwavering love for each other.
He is her Romeo, her Mark Anthony, her Samson and her Lancelot; she is his Juliette, his Cleopatra, his Delilah and his Guinevere. Together they are the classic Shakespearean romance.
They met in the student cafeteria at the college they both attend. It was ten minutes after two in the afternoon; the lunchroom was about half empty. She was sitting alone reading from her notes while eating her lunch. He sat down at the table next to the coed; it was the table nearest the window.
He immediately began to unpack his backpack. His laptop, a cell phone, a thermos, an apple, a roast beef sandwich, reading glasses; the paraphernalia kept piling up on the table. Within a minute he had the entire table filled with these things plus his textbooks, an algebra workbook, several pens and pencils and a notepad. He put his backpack on the floor near his feet.
He looked around at the things he had placed on the table. He frowned, got up and went to the lunch counter to get some napkins.
He opened two of the napkins, meticulously placing one on top of the other, creating a placemat. Next he opened a pocketknife and began to carefully cut his apple into quarters. After that, he cut out the center of each quarter, returning each quarter to the edge of the opened napkins. He put the cut out pieces onto another napkin on the opposite side of his table. Then he opened another napkin and covered the four pieces of apple as he brushed away a fly.
As soon as the student was finished with his apple, he opened two more napkins - again carefully placing one on top of the other. He took his sandwich out of its plastic container and cut it diagonally in half. He placed one section near the opposite edge of his makeshift placemat and covered it with another napkin. He put the other section in the center of his placemat.
He turned on his laptop, placed his cell phone next to his computer, put his glasses on, opened his thermos and began to eat his sandwich, occasionally biting into an apple quarter. He did this, while reading what appeared to Roxanne, to be notes on the screen from a word processor.
All his detailed actions interrupted Roxanne and distracted her from her own reading. But she couldn't help smiling. Never before had she seen someone exhibit such thoroughness when eating. "To each his own," the undergraduate whispered to herself and went back to her own reading and lunch.
Several minutes later someone on the other side of the dining hall yelled out, "Fuck, I'm late for class!" and ran out of the cafeteria, leaving his drink and half eaten pie on the table.
Pierre immediately apologized to Roxanne. "You'll have to forgive some of my classmates. They have no respect for women."
"What?" Roxanne answered him. His statement interrupted her and confused her.
"That student who just ran out of here; he cursed."
"Oh, that doesn't bother me. It's not like I've never heard profanity before. I have two brothers, one older and the other one younger than me. Besides, I don't have anything against it. I try not to use it . . . but," she smiled satirically and left her statement unfinished.
"Me too," Pierre replied. "I curse myself. But there's a time and place for everything. When I'm with mixed company I try to watch my language."
"You're a real gentleman," she quipped. "They're hard to find these days."
Pierre blushed several shades of red.
It was at that moment - when his face turned crimson - that Roxanne decided that she liked this attentive, meticulous white boy. His long black hair and thick black eyelashes accentuated his deep blue eyes. He appeared to be short with broad shoulders. His muscled arms gave him the look of someone who regularly works out. She could just barely make out his rippled stomach beneath his Boston College T-shirt. The rest of him was hidden below the tabletop.
For a brief moment the coed thought about joining him at his table but then thought better of it - he might not appreciate someone sitting close to him. They might "spread their germs" all over his stuff. She did however change her seat to one that was closer to his table; another table next to the window.
She asked him his major. He told her that he was a sophomore studying accounting; he wants to open up his own tax preparation business someday. When she pointed out to him that that is seasonal work, he added that he also hoped to own and captain a charter yacht for those who want to vacation in the Virgin Islands, the Bahamas, the Cayman Islands or other exotic places in the Caribbean Sea.
She informed him that she too was a sophomore studying geology but has no idea what she wants to do once she is finished college. Nor did she know why she was studying geology. She liked reading about dinosaurs when she was in middle and high school. But so far she had only taken one course that covered the subject. All her other geology courses had been about plain rocks.
Pierre and Roxanne are as different as any white man and black woman can be. He is conservative; she is liberal. HeJHHHHHHhhhhhhnh
He likes quiet evenings home alone; she likes wild raucous parties. He knows exactly what he wants to do and where he is going with his life; she has no directions and is taking each day as it comes. He is neat, careful, tidy and organized; she is sloppy, chaotic, lackadaisical and disorderly. He is from the poorer section of Boston and is working his way through college. She is the daughter of a former mayor of New Bedford; her tuition and books are paid for by her parents. He shares an apartment with a friend near the campus and works part time as a waiter in a restaurant; she lives with her parents in Cambridge. She spends her free time drawing pictures of nature.
But then it is their differences that attract them to each other. The two students begin dating and soon develop a strong love for each other. They are inseparable, going to night clubs, restaurants, parties, sporting events, picnics, camping and doing many other such things together. They also take long peaceful walks in the park together, go to the local theater for a movie together - usually a romantic comedy - or spend many quiet evenings together in his apartment just watching television and eating popcorn - when his annoying roommate isn't there to interfere with their intimacy.
In fact, it is their constant togetherness that puts an end to their plans.
They were scheduled to spend the weekend with some friends on Martha's Vineyard off the coast of Massachusetts. But at the last minute the two of them decide to drive up to his uncle's hunting and camping lodge on the outskirts of Colchester, Vermont. Their main reason for doing so is so that they can have a romantic weekend alone together. Pierre's birthday is the following Sunday and they want to celebrate it in a special way.
So, the last Friday of a cold December afternoon, they say good-bye to their friends, load up her sport utility vehicle with some food and winter camping gear and head for the mountains. What they don't know is that there is a heavy snowstorm heading south from Canada as they are heading north.
The snowflakes start to come down just before they cross the Vermont state line. It is still coming down when they turn off Interstate 93 onto Interstate 89 for their trip into Burlington. Roxanne comments how wonderful it will be to have a white winter on his birthday. She tells him that she intends to build a snowman in front of the cabin just for him.
By the time the two lovebirds arrive in Burlington the snowfall is coming down hard. They debate whether or not to proceed north on the old Roosevelt Highway for the last leg of their journey. Pierre checks with the state police and they tell him that the roads are safe for the time being. The enthusiasts stop to gas up the car and to get something to eat at a fast food restaurant.
Unbeknownst to Pierre and Roxanne, it is while they are eating that the weather takes a turn for the worst. As they are coming out of the restaurant and into the parking lot, a gust of arctic air blasts them. Both travelers are too anxious to return to the warmth of the SUV to notice that the temperature has suddenly dropped considerably.
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It is after they have been traveling along the highway for quite some time that the snow really gets bad and starts to come down even harder. It has become a blinding whiteout. Pierre is driving but he can't see much farther beyond the front of the car. The automobile keeps sliding all over the icy road.
Pierre is worried about getting into an accident with another vehicle. He reduces his speed. Roxanne only wants to get to the cottage before it gets too late. She wonders whether or not Pierre is lost. She hasn't noticed any road signs for quite a while; she is hoping that she just overlooked them.
"How much further?" the coed asks, trying to hide the anxiety in her voice.
"It's not much further," Pierre responds. "I think I saw a bungalow that I recognized a few minutes ago. It shouldn't be long now."
But silently he is worried. He only half recognized the lodge he spoke of. In truth, visibility is too low to distinguish anything. He continues to drive into the night.
After ten or fifteen minutes, Pierre slows the car to a crawl and looks hard out of the right side window. Roxanne looks too. Yes, there is a cabin there. But he can't identify it; it is too far from the road. Turning his attention back to the front windshield, he sees that the road has suddenly turned to the left. He quickly turns the steering wheel but the sports van skids into the ditch alongside the road.
The two occupants are thrown to the passenger's side of the car - neither was wearing a seat belt.