5. Earning More
Like most shy and introverted people, I had learned to be invisible at school even though the fact that I was an excellent student and a good baseball player drew attention to me. Teachers who tried to draw me out in class quickly learned that I didn't want to participate and most let me hide at the back of the room. I did the work and did it well, so they couldn't really complain.
People often congratulated me after a good baseball game, but I'd just nod or mutter "Thanks" and hurry on. I loved being part of the baseball team, but none of my teammates were really friends. My nickname was "Shrimp" which made me wince even when it was used affectionately. When opponents razzed me about belonging in Little League, members of my own team thought it was funny, and that hurt. I was one of the top players but I didn't really belong.
I didn't really belong anywhere. I spent my day at school hurrying from one class to another, from one quiet nook in the library to another in study hall to another on the back stairs where I usually ate my lunch while reading a book. This is the pattern I had to change. This is the pattern I had an incentive to change.
The positive factor – aside from the incentive itself – was that Mother couldn't be expecting a lot. She is basically the same person in the same boat – she works alone at home and has few friends. She is every bit as shy and introverted as I am. She knows she is asking for something difficult. I was fairly certain I would be rewarded for making an effort even if the result was a humiliating experience for me. In fact a humiliating experience might deliver up the best reward from Lainie.
Therefore, I decided the way to impress my mother was to (try to) make friends with a girl. A girl friend was not a realistic goal but a friend who was a girl? Why not? I told myself that I could do that. Furthermore, since failure might yield up results as good if not better than success, I might as well swing for the fences. I resolved that I would try to talk to Connie Seabrook. I knew her casually since she was going out with the star of the baseball team. She was in my history class and I often saw her in the library where she worked part time. She was attractive, she was smart, and she had been – before fateful Friday – my favourite masturbatory fantasy. Would having lunch and a conversation with Connie Seabrook qualify as progress?
On Thursday, I went to the cafeteria with several opening lines at the ready. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, Connie was having lunch with a group of her friends. No way was I joining a group. I was relieved, but also disappointed. When Mother asked me about my day that evening, I shrugged, and she sighed. No Lainie on Thursday night. On Friday, my luck was better. Connie was eating alone and reading a book. I nearly chickened out, but the thought of Lainie... I went over to her table and set down my tray.
"Hi Connie. D-Do you mind if I join you?" My heart was thumping.
"Hi Nate. Sure, I guess." She had a puzzled expression on her face. (Did she mean "Sure, I could join her" or "Sure, I mind." I hesitated and sat down.) "What's up?" she asked.
"Uh... uh..." (I couldn't remember any of my openings. Not a one.)
Her expression turned from curious to suspicious. "You're not hitting on me are you? Because I've already got a boyfrie-"
"No, no," I interrupted. "That's the furthest thing from my mind. I wouldn't dream of it." (Geez, that makes it sound like I don't think she is worth hitting on.) "I mean I know you go out with Ken."
"So what's up?"
"Uh... I'm trying to please my mother." I blurted. (Jesus, where did that come from? What a fiasco this was turning out to be.) Connie lifted an eyebrow. The absurdity of the entire situation struck me and I laughed out loud. Connie looked even more confused. I suddenly relaxed. How could this get worse? I decided to give Connie more or less the truth.
"She's worried about me lately. She thinks I'm too much of a loner. Every day she asks me if I talked to anybody interesting. Tonight when she asks, I'll tell her I talked to you. She will be pleased." (And maybe she'll pay off.)
"Sandy Struthers," said Connie. "Every time my Dad hears about a teenage suicide he goes haywire. I have to assure him that I'm happy at least twice before he settles down." Sandy Struthers! Sandy was a girl at our school who had killed herself a few weeks before I first met Lainie. Did Mother think that I...
"Geez," I said. "I never thought of that. That's the reason she's on my case." And in my bed. Suddenly I felt really badly. It must have shown on my face.
"So. Let's please your mother," said Connie with a smile, "How do I qualify as interesting?"
"Well, you read for one thing," I tilted my head enough to read the title of her book. "'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance' no less."
"It isn't really about motorcycles."
"I know. I've read it."
It turned out we had a lot in common. We both liked books, we both liked baseball, we both liked old movies and we were both raised by single parents. (Connie's mother had died when she was five.) I was sorry when the bell went and lunch hour ended. I think Connie enjoyed herself too.
I was walking on air for the rest of the day. Most people wouldn't see it as a big deal, but I was delighted and not only because of Lainie. I'd taken a risk and it wasn't a disaster! I was so pleased with myself that I even volunteered an answer in math class! The only fly in the ointment was Sandy Struthers. Every time I thought of her - which was too often - I'd feel a stab of guilt.
"Hi Mom," I shouted when I got home after baseball practice. She was setting the table for dinner.
"Hello, dear. Dinner is about fifteen minutes so if you didn't shower after practice, you've got time."
I quickly showered. I could hardly wait for dinner. I could hardly wait for after dinner. I'd had an erection on and off all afternoon. I thought about taking care of it in the shower, but I decided to wait. Not only did I have progress to report, I was almost sure I could use that progress to summon Lainie tonight.
I came into the kitchen rubbing my hands together. Mom had already dished up. I sat down and started to eat.
