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By Adele Morales Submitted by chris Date: 2008 Jan 06 Comment on this Work [[2008.01.06.01.29.30825]] |
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I studied my coffee cup, trying to think of an opener. Then I saw him twist around in his seat to stare at a pretty girl walking by. That's that, I thought. He turned towards me, and I was happy to have his attention again. "Been coming here long?" he asked. "Not really. This is only my second class." "Who with?" "Margaret Mead, she's very good, only she looks like somebody's maiden aunt, not an anthropologist. Imagine that little woman going into all those wild places by herself. What are you taking?" "I'm a clinical psychology major." God, I thought, this guy must really be smart. "Really," I said. "You don't look the type." That seemed to amuse him. He was adorable when he laughed. There was something so good natured and likable about him. I laughed with him. "Oh, you know, steel-rimmed glasses and a long grey beard like those pictures of Freud." He nodded. "Well, I may have one yet. It could be a long haul. But since I'm on the GI Bill, it could take forever." "You're lucky," I said, thinking of my little salary. "I have to pay my own way. Whose class are you in tonight?" "Erich Fromm. He wrote Escape from Freedom. Have you read it?" "I've never heard of Fromm. And why would anyone want to escape from freedom?" I could have bitten my tongue. Why did I say that? He'll think I'm stupid. "It's a little complicated. I'll explain it to you sometime. I could lend you the book, and we could discuss it." His voice had an intimate coaxing quality, and he looked at me as if I were the only person in the room. "Yeah, sure, I'd like to read it." I glanced into the mirror again as we talked. We looked good together, his fair handsomeness a foil for my dark good looks. I smiled at him, aware of my sexuality. I knew he wanted me. "You've got the most beautiful white teeth," he said. "Oh, thank you. I guess brushing them three times a day helps. It runs in the family, 'cause Daddy has great teeth, too. He likes to crack steak bones, that's why they're so strong and white." He leaned towards me, looking directly into my eyes. "You look Italian. Are you?" "No, but you're close. I'm half Spanish. Peruvian Indian on my father's side." "Really? That's fascinating." He paused. "I bet you get passionate about a lot of things." I didn't answer. We stared at each other. I laughed nervously and looked away. Oh God, I thought, if he only knew. "Well, it's what they say about Latins, but that's silly. There are all kinds, you know." |