Childlike

Chapter 2 The Tow Head

Chapter 2

The Tow Head

             As it turned out, we both had the same political science class, located in a small auditorium shaped like a movie theater with the instructor teaching from the stage.  I had my 8 and a half by 11 out, and Mick had his detective notebook. A pretty coed with long red hair held back in a black beret had her digital recorder on, as did a large, body builder type who sat in front of us, his thick freckled neck occasionally blocking my view of the red head.

             I enjoyed looking at her as did the body builder and a few of the other guys who sat nearby.  It wasn't that she was terribly sexy or pretty, but that she gave off the airs of refinement and tea time with delicate cups of china and walls laced with Van Gogh’s and Rembrandt’s, garages filled with BMW’s and Lexus’s.  She didn't seem to notice the attention, fully intent on taking notes and recording the teacher’s introduction on this first day of class.  I flopped back in the cushioned chair and tried to listen. Mick had his eyes closed and looked asleep.

             After lecturing 10 minutes on what he expected from us and what book was required the teacher let us go.  Mick and I stayed sitting and watched the redhead stand, gather up her notebook, switch off her recorder, then glide out the back door as if a ballerina on stage.  I saw the body builder go up and introduce himself.

             “Nice girl,” I said to Mick.

             “He thinks so,” he commented, pointing at the body builder who looked like a mountain next to her.

             “She's too classy for him,” I added, standing up and pulling on my backpack.

             “She's too classy for anyone.” Mick added.

             We walked out of the auditorium and headed for the stairs that led down to the bookstore, the cafeteria and the bank of tables laid out for students to mill about, drink coffee or Coca-Cola's and talk.  Most of our class was in the bookstore attacking the shelf with the Poly-Sci books, like a horde of fire ants feeding on the carcass of some dead animal.  I threw my backpack down on a nearby table having already bought my books before the semester had started.  Mick plopped himself into one of the chairs.

             “Want a drink?” I asked, still standing. “I'm going to have a coffee.”

             He thought about it then let out a loud, “Beep!” that echoed up to the third floor, and into the rafters, causing faces to look upward as if that was where the sound was coming from.  I laughed again to mask the awkwardness I was feeling, not sure what this “Beep” noise was all about.

             “Ah to-day, while we’re young,” Mick continued, talking to someone.  I turned around to see who it was but no one was behind me.  I looked back at him.

             “I'll have hot chocolate,” he said reaching for what I presumed to be his wallet.

             “It's OK,” I said. “This round’s on me.”

             “Sil-vah!” he belched out.  I looked at him, again laughing, then turned and headed to the cafeteria thinking that this was definitely a different guy than the one I knew in high school.  I began to wonder if he’d had a terrible head injury or something.

             When I got back with the drinks there was a tow-headed girl with a wispy body and a tight red miniskirt, standing next to Mick, talking to him while he kept turning his head from side to side not really listening to her. She continued on as if this were normal behavior or as if she didn’t notice his dancing head.  I got to the table and handed the hot chocolate to him.  He nodded in thanks.  I remained standing, surveying the girl, uncapping the coffee cup and taking a sip.

             “Ah to-day!”Mick said as the young girl kept talking about working at McDonald's together and how great it was. I noticed that she had nice legs.

             “Ah tomorrow,” the girl shouted out, as if this were a contest.

             “Sil-vah!”

             “Go-old,” she countered, stretching out gold into two syllables. Several groups of coeds stared over at her.

             “Beep!”

             “Honk, Honk!” she yelled, flapping her willow branch arms, twitching her long legs back and forth, red skirt pulling at the eyes of her audience as she continued her epileptic fit.

             “Good grief,” I whispered to myself as I sat down.