Old theme, new treatment, I hope. You need the earlier chapters or you'll get confused. (Best to start with number one, but that's just a personal view). Please remember to vote. I answer non-anonymous feedback. Satyricon.
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'You sure got a lot of books, Doug. You read them all?' That is such a dumb question, I thought. You think I bought them instead of wallpaper? Still, no point in causing bad feeling, and he was an OK kid. Paid his rent on day one and never came back drunk. I tried not to sound irritated.
'I do a lot of reading, Timmy, ya know that. Fetch yourself a beer, and for me too, then siddown and tell me what you need. You look kinda jumpy.' He loped into the kitchen and came back with the bottles.
'Doug, I gotta problem and I need your help.' Kid thinks I can work fuckin' miracles.
'It involves getting off my ass, Timmy, the answer's no. Advice, though, I majored in advice. What's happened?'
Turned out it was a girl problem, like nearly always. You're in college, your problems are gonna be grades or girls. Or guys, I guess. Can't ace both unless you're prepared to work real hard. That's one of the reasons I'm a happy guy. It's like I said, a good slacker's gotta be realistic. The best possible result is nearly always hidin' in a bucket of sweat, so your good slacker says 'thanks, but no thanks,' and settles for the best sweat-free result possible. Almost as good and a whole lot easier.
Poor ol' Timmy was dating two girls and getting all strung out about deciding which one he really loved, and who did he want to give his heart to, stuff like that. I gave him words of wisdom, choose the one gives the best head, stuff like that, and another coupla beers, gotta couple smiles outa him, sent him away feeling better. I don't think he listened much. When I warned him that whatever you do, shit happens, he looked as if he thought I was shittin' him. He'd find out.
I got up and looked outa my big bay window at the wet leaves blowing down the street. Fall was settled right in and winter was peeping round the corner. It was a day just like this that I finally got to speak to Judy Olsen. Hell, she was the one spoke to me first. Shit hadn't happened then.
I'd been feeling kinda pleased with myself that morning. We'd paid the rent on time, utilities too. I'd showed Annie round and she'd admired everything and we'd christened the place. Baptism of fire, that woman handed out: worth it though, and the scars healed pretty quick. I was getting A's, a few B's. I'd worked part-time over the summer, pumping gas, and done an hour a day at the gym, coupla hours a day with the books, spent time thinking about Judy Olsen, plus deep thoughts about how to cut down on the sweat factor. My real talent is using down time wisely. My real problem is getting enough of it. Hell, I didn't chill much that summer, but I didn't knock myself out either, and I went back to college with a little extra cash in my pocket, feeling pretty good.
Stayed good too. Gary had found the apartment a while back and put his marker on it. Owner was an old guy, useta work for someone who... that kinda deal, so we got moved in and settled real quick. Gary and I got on OK. He kept my nose in the books: guy had a sharp tongue on him when he wanted. I useta drag him out for a beer when he was looking kinda peaky. He was still engaged to his high school sweetheart, so weekends were clear, just in case I got lucky.
So on a wet and windy fall morning I locked the door behind me and did a happy shuffle down the steps of the old duplex. Wet leaves on the bottom step and my legs went away from me as I landed. As I hit the sidewalk I hit something else, and there was a scream of pain.
'You fuckin' dumb bastard!' A girl's voice. I'd caught my head bad as I went down and my left eye wasn't working too good. I put my hand up and it came away wet and sticky and I dam' near started screaming too. The voice was groaning and whimpering now, and I tried to say something, but everything went a little hazy and I closed my good eye for a moment. Bye bye Doug.
Turned out that I tore my forehead open and concussed myself, needed half a dozen stitches and bed rest for a coupla days. Gary came by, and a couple of other guys. My mom drove down to make sure she wasn't going to have a vegetable son for the rest of her life. Annie visited, checked out her interests, slipped me a baggie as she left.
Third day I woke up from my morning nap and wondered what was blocking the light. I struggled to focus and nearly passed out again. She was standing looking at me, looking pissed as hell.
'You owe me, Mr. Douglas goddam Taylor. I'm gonna be in fuckin' plaster the whole next month.' Click. Never been so relieved to hear imaginary sounds. Thank God for summer.
'Judy? Judy Olsen? What you doing here?' I already knew. I could see she was on crutches.
'How come you know my name? You fell down your fucking front steps and broke my fucking ankle, dickwad. That's why I'm here. When you gonna get off your ass and start some fucking payback?' Hell, she was some kinda potty mouth.
'I seen you in the library, asked who you were. What payback? Jeez, my head hurts. You wanna hand me those painkillers and some water?' She hobbled forward and passed me the stuff, balancing on one crutch and propping the other against the bed. Click.
'Shit, Judy, I'm sorry. Last thing I remember is slipping on some goddam leaves, then I was here. I wasn't aimin' to cripple ya. Tell me what ya want. Whyntcha sit down? Standing too long's gotta be a problem.' She glared at me not quite so hard and gimped over to a chair.
'You OK? You sure gotta lot of bruising.'
'Banged myself up pretty good. You?' She shrugged.
'Cracked a bone, tore the ligaments up a tad. Coulda been worse, I guess. You really ask someone who I was?' She was calming down some.
'Last year. Started sitting where I could see you.' I thought I saw her react to that. 'Tell me what ya need. Anything. I been wanting to meet ya a long time now, but hell, not this way. Makes me feel like a real jerk.' She nodded, then cracked a reluctant grin..
'Got that right. How come you're not gabbling and apologizing like you oughta? Click.
'Cheap words gonna help any? I'm outa here this afternoon they say. I meant what I said. Anything I can do, it's done.' She looked at me hard again.
'You gotta car, right?'
'Old Valiant. Ugly but reliable.' She nodded.
'School I can manage. Stairs are a pain in the ass, but nothing's too far to get to. But I'm a psych major and I gotta do three evenings a week in a clinic this semester, placement.. It's kinda like an internship for students.'
'Dean's list students, I bet. There ain't enough clinics in the state for the whole class.' This time she did pink up a little.
