Sophomore Year Pt 01

Sophomore Year - Part 1

Pat Sullivan returns to university.

This story is a follow-up to an earlier tale of mine,

Love Shack

. You do not need to read that story to understand this one. The setting is in the Midwest during the mid-1980s. Those were very different times. Fashion and language were different. We didn't worry about seat belts or STDs. AIDS/HIV had not come to the region. The drinking age was 18 and pubic hair was all the rage. The only sexual fear was getting pregnant. Technology was very different. Phones had wires attached to the wall and music came from vinyl records or cassette tapes. People wrote letters to one another using pen and paper. I have tried to be as historically accurate as my aging brain can remember. All characters are at least 18 years of age.

*****

Mid-September

As I began my sophomore year at Tech, my life seemed to be a little more defined. Over the summer I had renewed my relationship with my childhood best friend Marianne Thorborg. If it was my choice alone, she would be the woman I marry. The only question was when. I wrote to her every other day, but she hadn't written back to me yet. I was concerned that there was something wrong. I had her address at Cornell University. Because none of them had been returned, I assumed she was receiving my letters. The relationship died the last time we were parted. It could easily die again.

Over the summer I was the head lifeguard at our local lake. Every evening after we closed, I had a sexual encounter of some variety with one of my three female co-workers: the Finn sisters, Kathleen and Becky, and Julianne Hildegard. After an amazing summer of sex, I returned to campus with the sexual knowledge to rock many a co-ed's world. That is, if I got the chance. I wasn't planning on being promiscuous, I just hoped I would find someone if my relationship with Marianne failed again.

I also returned with a renewed commitment to excel academically. My dream was to become a navy pilot. Nevertheless, I had two distractions: one was an almost constant need to write to Marianne. The other was my horniness. After having sex every day for over three months, I needed to find an outlet. At the moment, my only solace was masturbation.

Most of my classes were interesting and fun. Statics and Physics covered the same topics and one class reinforced the other. Electronics was very cool. English Lit was a joy.

Calculus III was the only ballbuster. I failed the first two quizzes and I knew I was in trouble. It didn't help that the class was at 9 AM. I needed to find someone to help me through it.

There was a geeky co-ed in the class by the name of Debbie, who was a math major. She sat one row in front of me. Looking over her shoulder at her grade, I knew she had aced the quizzes. I decided I needed to ask her for help. She was cute and I hoped I could befriend her.

After Wednesday's class, I ran to catch up to her, "Hey Debbie."

She was of medium height and thin. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and pale skin. Every day she always seemed to wear a similar outfit. First, there was a miniskirt, showing off her long, lean legs. Then she added a pair of purple Chuck Taylors and a t-shirt with some band's name that I had never heard of. Because she had small breasts, she didn't seem to ever wear a bra. The result was the regular appearance of her nipples. She wore wire-rimmed glasses to complete the geek look.

She turned to look at me and smiled, "Hi."

"I'm Pat Sullivan. I sit behind you in class."

She didn't seem to recognize me, "This class?"

"Yes, calculus."

"Oh." She started walking, "So, what can I do for you Pat Sullivan?"

"You seem to be really good at math. I was wondering if you could help me out."

"Because you're not good at math?"

"I'm decent at it. But calc this semester is kicking my butt."

"So, you decided to ask the geeky, mousy math girl for help."

"Why do you put yourself down?"

Debbie looked suspicious, "That's what you think, don't you?"

"I don't think you're mousy."

She laughed, "But you do think I'm geeky."

"Sure. By the way, I don't think that's a bad thing. I've always considered myself to be a geek."

A look of doubt and disgust crossed her face, "Yeah, right. You're a jock through and through."

"I'm not a jock. I don't play anything anymore."

"You look like a jock."

"I'm just in good shape. I want to be a pilot and I need to stay in shape."

"I'm going over to the caf for some breakfast. Why don't you come along and explain to me why I should help you."

"Fair enough."

Debbie was a fast walker with those long legs and we were soon at the cafeteria. I followed her through the line, grabbing a cup of coffee, a Danish, and cup of Dannon yogurt. I joined her at a table by the windows. Debbie had a cup of tea and a fruit cup.

Her nose crinkled looking at what I had selected, "You put milk in your coffee?"

"Yes."

"Don't you know dairy is bad for you?"

"No. What about all those commercials saying, 'milk grows strong bodies twelve ways'?"

"That's Wonder Bread."

You're a dope, Patrick

. "Oh. Well, I like milk in my coffee and yogurt tastes good."

"To each her own. So, why should I help you?"

I didn't have a clue. Take a shot,

"Because you're a nice person and I need help?"

I got an eyeroll, then a look of exasperation, "You don't even know me! How do you know I'm nice?"

"Okay. I'm hoping you are nice.

"I am nice."

"So, you'll help me?"

"I don't know."

Think of something else!

"Debbie, you're a smart lady."

"I'm not a lady. I'm a woman."

Making points Patrick!

"Okay, you're a smart woman. I don't know if I'll ever be able to help you academically, but I can be your friend and maybe I can help you in other ways."

"What other ways?"

Debbie was being difficult.

"I haven't a clue. I just know that life is hard and if you don't have people you can count on, it can be harder."

She squeezed out her teabag and took a sip from her cup, "That's good tea. So, Pat Sullivan, do you have anyone you can count on?"

Now I knew what it was like to be on trial, "Not many. Two of my friends from ROTC didn't come back to school this year. I don't have a roommate. So, actually, I don't think I have anyone I can count on right now."

"Maybe you should pledge for a frat."

"The whole

Animal House

thing? No thanks. That's not going to get me to flight school."

"You're serious about the flying thing, aren't you."

I nodded, "Yeah. In the long run I'd love to be an astronaut, but you have to be a pilot first."

Debbie smiled, "Okay. Maybe you are a geek. Who were the astronauts on Apollo 11?"

"Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins. I was nine years old when they landed on the moon. I knew every detail about that mission."

"Same here. Okay, I'll help you. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Girlfriend? How do I answer this?

"I'm not sure."

"What do you mean, you're not sure?" Skepticism dripped from her words.

"It's a long story, but I'm not sure."

Debbie leaned back in her chair with her fruit cup, "I don't have class until one. I'm all ears."

For the first time I noticed her eyes - green. She locked in on mine. I could feel myself being drawn into them. She didn't break eye contact at all. I couldn't look away. I felt a strong connection to her.

"Well, my best friend growing up was Marianne Thorborg. We did everything together. I spent every day with her. That is until she moved away the summer before we started high school. We lost track of one another. I hadn't seen her in five years. This summer she came back to my town and found me. We hung out for a week and then she went home."

"So, by hanging out you mean you had a lot of sex."

"I'd rather not go into that."

"Pat Sullivan, you can be really difficult. I'm going to assume you had a lot of sex with her. So, how are you not sure she's your girlfriend?"

"She hasn't written me back."

"I see." Debbie took another sip of tea, "So, because she hasn't written to you, you think she's forgotten about you."

"I don't know. It's kind of feeling that way."

"Have you called her?"

"I don't have her number. Plus, she's at Cornell back east. Even if I did have her number, that's some serious long-distance charges that I can't afford."

"Okay, I'll give you that. So, are you saving yourself for this Marianne woman?"

"I wouldn't say I'm saving myself, but I'm not seeing anyone."

Debbie downed the rest of her tea, "What do you think of a mousy woman like me?"

"You're not mousy. Why do you keep saying that? Doesn't mousy mean shy and unassuming and boring."

She nodded, "That's me."

"Well, I've only known you for ten minutes, but I don't think you're any of those things."

"When you've known me ten days, you'll say I'm mousy."

"I'm willing to bet I won't."

She stuck out her hand, "That's a bet."

I shook her hand, "What are we betting?"

She shrugged, "I don't know. We'll think of something."

I laughed, "Can you tell me about Debbie?"

"Just a geeky, mousy girl."

Debbie doesn't like to talk about herself.

"I thought you were a woman."

"I am."

"So, what's your last name?"

"Beyer. Debbie Beyer."

Try this band on her t-shirt

. "So, you like Joy Division?"

She looked really pissed, "No. I hate them. Why else would I wear their fucking t-shirt?"

Debbie is sarcastic.

"Fair enough. So, you're not going to tell me anymore about Debbie Beyer?"

"No, Pat Sullivan. I'm not."

"Can I ask you when you work on calculus?"

"Yes."

Debbie is a smart ass

. "When do you work on calculus?"

"I have a spot on the second floor of the library. I'm usually there from seven until ten each evening."

I reached over and squeezed her hand, "Thank you. I'll be there."

I gathered up my tray and turned to leave.

Debbie looked surprised, "Why did you do that?"

"What?"

"Squeeze my hand?'

"I don't know. I guess I am grateful and I appreciate you."

"Oh."

*****

I showed up that evening at the library and found Debbie. She was spread out at a table, working on some math that wasn't calculus.

I set my stuff down and sat across from her, "What are you working on?"

Anger flashed across her face for an instant. She took a deep breath and returned to calm, "Statistics. You and I need some ground rules. You can ask me for help, but don't just chat me up. Okay?"

"Okay."

No chatting up Debbie. She put you in your place dumb ass.

I pulled out my textbook and started working on my calculus homework. I almost immediately got stuck. I looked at Debbie and she was drawing a graph. I thought I would wait until she stopped working.

She looked up at me a little annoyed, "What?"

"When you have a moment, I have a question."

"What?"

"I'm not understanding vectors."

I was pretty sure there was steam coming out of her ears. She walked around and sat next to me, "What don't you understand?"

"What they are?"

"That was two weeks ago."

"And I got ten percent on the quiz, probably because I had a lucky guess."

Debbie looked at me, "At least you're honest. Since you want to be a pilot, let me use an airplane as an example." Over the course of the next thirty minutes, Debbie explained in very clear, layman's terms what a vector was.

The light bulb slowly came on and I got it, "You're the best. Let me try these problems."

She went back to what she was working on. When I was done, I asked her to check my work.

Debbie brought out her homework and compared it to mine. She made a mark by one answer, "Check that one again." She kept moving through them, "Looks good." She squeezed my hand.

I was surprised, "Why'd you do that?"

She bore into me with those green eyes, "For the same reason you squeezed my hand this morning - I appreciate you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

It didn't take me long to finish the rest of my work, but I thought it would be rude to leave Debbie there. I decided to read ahead in my literature class. I was engrossed in the novel when Debbie stood up.

"I usually go home about now."

I looked at my watch - 10 PM, "Can I walk you home? Make sure you're safe?"

She nodded, "I'd like that."

I gathered up my stuff and placed it in my satchel.

She asked, "What were you reading? You were pretty absorbed in it."

"

The Grapes of Wrath

. It's for English Lit. Love that stuff."

"Why don't you major in English?"

"Because I need an engineering degree to be a pilot."

She nodded, "You are focused, aren't you. Are you a good writer?"

"I think I do a pretty good job. Got an 'A' in College Writing last year."

"Maybe you can help me then. Maybe you could read over my papers."

"I'd be happy to."

We walked in silence all the way to her dorm. I couldn't think of a thing to get her talking.

When we got to the door, Debbie turned to me, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

I didn't hesitate, "Yeah."

She looked surprised, "Why? I'm not curvy. I'm a stick. No boobs. No butt. Just blonde hair."

I shook my head, "Debbie, you've got to stop putting yourself down. You're a very pretty woman."

"You're just saying that because you need calculus help."

"No. I'm saying it because it is true. You are my friend. I'm not going to lie to you."

Her eyes bore into mine, searching for something.

Finally, she nodded. She reached out and squeezed my hand, then turned and went in the dorm.

*****

Debbie and I didn't have class together the next day, but I showed up at the library a little before seven. She wasn't at her table yet, so I settled in.

We had a quiz in calculus class the next day, so I decided to rework all the homework problems. At about 7:30, Debbie hadn't showed up.

Maybe you have the wrong spot

. I walked around the second floor, but no Debbie. I decided to check the first floor and then the third floor. No Debbie.

Hmm

.

When I returned to our spot, she was there, "Hey! You had me a little worried."

She was sitting with her head down, hair hiding her face.

I sat down across from her, "You alright?"

She didn't look up, "Female humans can be real bitches."

"What happened?"

Debbie finally looked up at me. Her eyes were red and I could detect tear stains on her cheeks, "I'd rather not discuss it."

I came over, took a knee next to her chair, and put my arm around her, "Did someone hurt you?"

"Not physically."

"But mentally."

She nodded.

"What can I do?"

Debbie grabbed my hand that was holding her shoulder, "You were right. It is good to have someone you can count on."

I reached around and gave her a side hug, "I hope I can be that person for you." I pressed my lips into her hair. She used some kind of herbal shampoo. It smelled lovely.

She nodded again, "I need to get to work." She looked over at my spot, "Still working on vectors?"

I stood and returned to my chair, "Yeah, I decided to redo the homework from yesterday to make sure I understood the process. Math seems to be all about process. Do A, then B, then C."

"At the level we're at. When you get to the upper-level classes, there's a lot more logic and creativity."

Debbie pulled out her books and began working. We sat in companionable silence for the rest of the evening. Every so often I would sense that Debbie was looking at me. For some reason, I decided to not return her gaze, but I could see her in my peripheral vision. She spent a lot of time looking at me.

Finally, she stood up, "Ten o'clock. I need get going."

"I'll walk you home."

"You don't have to."

"No. I want to. I want to make sure you're safe. I also want to make sure no one gives you shit."

She nodded and gathered her books. Once again, we walked in silence across the campus.

About halfway, I said, "You know, if you ever just wanted to talk about stuff, I'm a pretty good listener."

"I appreciate that. Someday I might start talking your head off."

"Can't wait."

We stopped in front of her dorm. She stood there looking up at me for a few moments. She took a deep breath, "Patrick Sullivan, I have a proposal for our bet. Well, if I win."

"Okay. Let's hear it."

"If I win, you have sex with me."

I was pleasantly surprised, "You want to have sex with me?"

She looked up into my eyes, "Yes."

"You know, you don't have to win a bet to have sex with me."

"Then why else would you have sex with me?"

"Because you are an attractive woman."

"I'm no such thing. I'm a stick."

"Didn't Shakespeare say, 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder'?"

She nodded, "Something close to that."

"Well, to my eye, you are a beautiful woman. Quite brilliant too."

She nodded. I could see tears brimming up in her eyes.

Make a date you idiot,

"Tomorrow's Friday. Would you like to do something together? Maybe go out in town?"

Debbie nodded again. She gave my hand a squeeze, then jumped up and gave me a quick peck on the lips. She turned, went into the dorm, and was gone.

*****

That night I thought about what sex with Debbie might be like. Rather than stroke myself off to an image of Marianne in my head I had a vision of Debbie. I thought about how her nipples always stood out on her t-shirt. I thought about those long legs and what might be between them. I pictured the lovely curve of her miniskirt-covered ass. I thought about her green eyes.

*****

During Friday's calculus class, Debbie came up and sat next to me in the third row of the lecture hall. The guy who usually sat there was a little put out, but she didn't care. Come quiz time, I thought I did really well. Afterwards, we walked over to the caf, much slower this time.

She asked, "So how did you do?"

"So much better, and it's all because of you. I can't thank you enough. I am assuming you kicked butt as usual."

She shook her head, "I couldn't focus. I didn't finish."

I stopped and grabbed her arm, "Debbie, what's the matter?"

Tears were streaming down her face, "The girls on my floor are such bitches."

"What are they saying?"

She shook her head, "Just being mean."

I wrapped my arms around her and she began sobbing onto my shoulder. I held her tight as her body quaked. I wish I knew what they were saying to her. We stood there for quite a while. Eventually, the sobs eased off.

Debbie looked up at me, "Thanks for that."

I nodded.

She looked at my shirt, "Oh, jeeze! I've slobbered all over you."

"It's fine. You can slobber on me anytime you want."

She started walking and I fell in beside her. She asked, "Have you thought about where we should go tonight?"

"How about pizza?"

"That has dairy."

"We can get half the pizza with veggies and no cheese."

Debbie nodded, "Okay. I'll try that."

"I'll come by your dorm and get you around five."

"Okay."

Over breakfast, I got her talking a bit about herself. I found out that the Beyer Family lived in the county next to mine, about a thirty-minute drive from my house. Her father was a high school math teacher and her mother was the town librarian. She came by her geekiness through genetics.

*****

That evening, I showed up at Debbie's dorm about five minutes early. I had the woman at the front desk call her, then took a seat.

Debbie appeared about two minutes later.

I stood up and I heard some voices behind her.

Someone whispered, "Oh, fuck! Stick is with a hunk."

"How the fuck did she get a guy like that?"

I pretended to not hear, "Ready?"

As we got away from the dorm, I asked, "Were those some of the women who have been tormenting you?"

"Yeah."

"They do sound like bitches."

"I'd rather not talk about them."

We walked about a hundred yards in silence. I had an impulsive thought, "Would you mind if I held your hand?"