DANCING ON THE TUNDRA by Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.
CHAPTER VIII
Terry walked into the lobby and looked around for Paula, but he didn't see her. There was an older couple visiting with their son, a boy sitting in the corner reading a magazine and a couple of girls on one of the couches, but no Paula. Terry walked to the counter of the main desk to ask if the attendant on duty noticed where his guest had gone. The guy gave him a strange look, then stood up and pointed. Terry turned to look back at the lounge area but saw no one different. He was about to ask again when the boy in the corner looked up from his reading.
"Terry," Paula said as she dropped the magazine and stood up. "About time. What took you so long?"
Terry walked over to her. "I guess I sort of overslept," he admitted as he ran his hand through his still damp hair. He stared in wonder at his friend. She was dressed in sneakers, blue jeans and a red flannel shirt under a blue, down-filled jacket. Her black hair had been cropped very short and she wore no make up. All of this had cast the decidedly masculine appearance. But as she stepped toward him, her movements conveyed a sense of masculinity as well. There was something in the way she walked, in her carriage, even in the subtleties of arm movements and tilts of the head. It was more than just a decisive, take charge attitude; it was a lack of any softness, any feminine tones to temper the overall appearance. Paula could easily have been taken for a guy.
The two friends left the dorm and strolled down the sidewalk. "You . . . you seem so different," Terry said after a moment of silence between them.
"You like it?" she asked, generally indicating herself. "It's the new me."
"I don't know what to say."
"Well I do," she quickly responded. "For the first time in my life I'm really happy. I've joined a kind of sorority and we have a lot of fun. I really like my new image and so do my sisters." She finished with an angry look of defiance that conjured up the image of glass breaking into jagged shards.
"Well that's just great," Terry said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "I'm happy for you."
"What about you?" she asked. "So how's life treating you?" In her concern for her friend she seemed to soften a bit, the broken glass fading into the background. The old Paula came through.
"Me? I'm okay," Terry lied.
"What's up? Come on, you can tell me."
He stopped walking and stared into the parking lot. "Oh my God," he said in shock.
"Terry, what is it?"
"Gary's car," the boy responded. A short distance across the lot sat Gary's old grey Chevy. All four tires were flat with flayed strips of rubber hanging from them. The windows were shattered and broken glass was scattered everywhere. The car had several dents beat into its body and someone had sprayed 'Die Faggot' on the side in red paint.
"Gary, is that the roommate you wrote me about?" Paula asked. "I thought you said he moved out of the dorm.
"He did," Terry said as he slowly walked toward the car. "He only came back last night because he gave me a ride home from the cast party."
"I thought this Gary was a queer. What were you two doing together at a party?"
"It's not what you think," Terry said, his anger suddenly building. "We weren't together. He just happened to be there and when I got sick he gave me a ride home. He's a very nice guy."
"Well somebody sure didn't think so."
"Can we go to the hospital?" Terry asked, suddenly changing the subject.
"The hospital? What for?"
"Because I just found out a couple of minutes ago that after he dropped me off last night he got in a fight with the guys down the hall. They put Gary in the hospital."
Paula led the way to where she had parked her sporty, blue Camaro that her parents bought her as a high school graduation present. They jumped in and in a short time were at St. Margaret's Hospital. At the desk they were informed that visiting hours didn't begin until one, still a few minutes away. But when asked about Gary the nurse on duty said he had requested no visitors. "He's fine," she told them. "He should be discharged later today or tomorrow morning, but he doesn't want to see anyone and we have to respect his wishes."
"Could you tell him I came by?" Terry asked as he quickly jotted a note on a piece of paper he found in his pocket.
"Of course," the lady said with a professional smile and took the scrap of paper. The two of them left and climbed back in Paula's car to return to campus. Curtain time for the matinee was 2:00 so Terry suggested they go directly to the theatre. He still needed to give Betsy her keys.
As they sat in the lobby waiting for the house to open, Terry had a chance to chat with Paula. He told her about his experience with Gary, and then what he found out at the party. He also told her about the incident with the priest and the tickets the night before. She seemed to think he was making way too big of a deal out of the whole affair. "So he forgot what night his reservation was for and he was in a bad mood. What's the problem?" Terry had to agree, although he could still feel the sting of the humiliation.
"I missed Mass today," he finally said.
"What?"
"I got drunk last night and overslept. I missed Mass this morning."
Paula gave him a strange look. "So why are you telling me? I'm not a priest. I don't need to hear your confession."
Terry felt instantly foolish. "I guess I just wanted to say something."
They sat quietly for a few minutes. "You know Father Joseph would say it's a sin. Do you think you're going to hell for over sleeping?" Paula asked.
"Maybe," Terry answered her.
"Terry, be realistic. If there is a God do you think he'd damn you for all eternity because you got drunk and missed Mass?"
"I guess that does sound kind of severe."
"Yeah, it does," Paula chided him.
"Wait a minute. If there's a God? Don't you think there is?" Terry realized the heresy his friend had spoken.
"Do you think there is?"
"Well sure . . . I guess."
"Well I don't," she said with conviction. "Look at your friend in the hospital. Would a God let him get beat up after helping you out when you got sick at a party? And look at yourself," she said suddenly getting personal.
"What about me?" Terry asked uncomfortably. He had no idea where she was taking this line of thought.
"Would a God let what happened to you at the prom happen just because . . ."
"Because why?"
"Because of what you did with Jim."
"That was all a bunch of lies!" Terry said a bit too loudly. Several other people in the lobby glanced over at them.
"Now do you see why I don't believe in God?"
Terry thought about it for a bit. "So you don't go to church anymore?"
"No, I haven't been to church since I left home," Paula admitted. "And it's great. No guilt, no confession, and no going to hell."
The house opened and the two of them stepped up to the usher with their tickets. Once inside the theatre their conversations tended to turn to the more mundane items. Terry told Paula about Frances and the letter, and then confessed that several of his dorm friends thought Paula was his new girlfriend. "Imagine that," she laughed. "You and me dating? That's a wild one."
Terry forced a laugh. "Yeah, silly, isn't it?" He chuckled along with her, but inside he felt strangely empty. He wondered why it was such an outlandish notion. They had know each other for years. Actually it seemed perfectly natural when he thought about it.
From there the conversation dwindled until finally the lights dimmed and the play began. They were instantly transported to Spain during the Inquisition. The characters were introduced and the play within a play took place bringing to life Don Quixote, Sancho Panza, Aldonza and all the rest. The production was outstanding and the singing and dancing superb. Terry found it hard to believe that many of these same people were at the party just the night before, drinking and smoking grass. The effects of the night's revels didn't seem to hurt their performances.
Halfway through the show the girl who played Aldonza had a slight mishap. Her costume consisted of a full peasant skirt and a tight, laced, leather corset. The corset gave her a perfect figure as well as lifting her ample bosoms. As she was dancing with the muleteers she apparently moved a bit too much for the costume and her left breast popped out of the tight bodice in full view of the audience. But the girl never missed a note of the song. She just reached up and tucked herself back into her dress and kept going.
When the curtain finally dropped the audience rose to its feet for a standing ovation. "That was fantastic!" Paula said enthusiastically. "That girl who played Aldonza was brilliant!"
"Yeah," Terry agreed. She was very good, but he was still embarrassed for her considering her unplanned exposure in the middle of the show. "Wasn't that awful when she fell out of her costume?"
"Awful?" Paula asked. "I thought that was the best part."
"The best part?" he repeated in astonishment.
"Well sure, I mean the way she didn't let it bother her. She just fixed the problem and went on, like it happens every day."
"I guess so," Terry replied.
The two of them went out for hamburgers and then Paula dropped him back at the dorm. She had to get back to her university to study for a test the next day. She waved to him, then pulled away from the curb and peeled out down the street in a squeal of tortured rubber.
"Hey, Terry. Was that your new girlfriend?" He turned to see Todd standing behind him on the sidewalk.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, it was," Terry replied proudly.
"So what's his name?" Todd burst into laughter at the question.
"Her name is Paula," came the angry reply.
Todd followed Terry into the dorm and over to the elevator. "She looked like a guy to me. Is that why you didn't kiss her goodbye? Did she forget to shave this morning?"
"Oh shut up," Terry said as he stepped into the empty elevator.
"Isn't your old buddy Gary gonna be upset?" Todd asked, jumping onto the elevator just as the doors closed. "We put him in the hospital and before your bunk even gets cold from his visit last night, you go out and get some other guy to take his place."
Terry doubled up his fist and swung, hitting Todd as hard as he could right in the mouth. The boy was totally unprepared for Terry's attack, never even dreaming that the mild mannered butt of his jokes might actually strike back. Todd fell back, cracking his head on the wall of the elevator, then collapsed to the floor. The doors opened and Terry stepped out onto his floor, leaving the unconscious boy behind him. He went straight to his room and closed the door, then sat on the bed. He was so upset he was trembling. His hand hurt and was beginning to swell, but he hardly noticed it in his agitated state. It was a whole combination of things that bothered him, the conversations with Paula, the incident with Gary the night before, his going to the hospital, and finally the teasing by the boy across the hall that had provoked such violence. Terry had never really been a violent person, always avoiding a fight. He just didn't know how to deal with all the conflicting emotions.
He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, waiting for his name to be called on the intercom. He was certain that in a very short time he would be called before Mother Barry when Todd reported the attack. He might even be expelled. How would his parents react to that? Terry closed his eyes and tried to sleep, trying to shut the real world out of his conscious mind.
A light tap on the door called him back to the present. He wasn't sure if he had drifted off or not, but for a moment he was still disoriented as if he had been asleep. The knock repeated. "Come in," he called as he sat up. He was sure it must be Mother Barry. He was surprised that she would come to him. The door opened and a form was silhouetted in the light from the hallway. Only then did Terry realize that his room was hidden in darkness. He reached over and snapped on the desk lamp. Brent stepped into the room. "I was expecting someone else," Terry admitted.
"Who?" Brent asked as he stood inside the doorway.
"Maybe the R.A. or Mother Barry."
"If it's because of Todd, don't worry," Brent said. "He told us what he said. I think he deserved a good punch in the mouth."
"I've never hit anyone before," Terry admitted, his voice shaking.
Brent shut the door and then pulled up a desk chair. "What's going on with you, Terry?" he asked. "This afternoon you sounded like you were mad when you heard about Gary. They caught him sneaking out of your room, then he attacked Stewart."
Terry took a deep breath, then began to tell Brent everything. He told Brent about Stewart and Gary, and about Stewart coming on to him. He told Brent about getting sick at the party and Gary bringing him home and putting him in bed.
"Terry, he might have raped you," Brent said, trying to justify the violence against Gary.
"Don't be stupid," Terry snapped back.
Brent sat back and rubbed his eyes. "What am I going to do about Stewart?" he asked rhetorically. "I don't want to sleep in the same room as a faggot."
"Why not? Has he ever done anything to you?"
"Well no," Brent admitted. "But there's always a first. Besides, if he was screwing with Gary why did he spread rumors and get Gary kicked out of the dorm?"
"I don't know. Maybe he was tired of Gary and interested in someone else."
"And I know who," Brent added in a sudden realization. "You."
"Me?"
"Remember I told you how he said you had a good looking body. And he's been kind of coming on to you. And he's asked me a lot of questions about you." Terry tried to suppress an involuntary shudder. "So what are you going to do about it?" Brent asked.
"Nothing," Terry answered him, looking suddenly at his friend.
"You aren't going to talk to Mother Barry or anything?"
"I don't think that would do any good. She doesn't care."
"Well, I'm not sleeping in a room with a faggot," Brent repeated strongly. "Can I move down here with you?"
"Brent, after the situation with Gary and now Todd trying to start rumors, I think the last thing I need is a guy moving in with me. Then they'd say you and I were both faggots."
"Yeah, I guess so." The heavy set boy thought for a moment. "Well, I could tell everyone about Stewart and then he'll have to move out, the same as Gary."
"No, that wouldn't be right," Terry argued. "I think the best thing is just to ignore the whole situation."
"But then I'm back to rooming with Stewart."
"He hasn't bothered you up to now. I don't think you have to worry. Besides, I'm sure he doesn't want anyone to know about him."
"Well, at least after tonight you don't have to worry about anybody calling you names. A faggot wouldn't hit someone in the mouth the way you took care of Todd," Brent smiled.
"Why not?" Terry asked.
"Why not what?"
"Why wouldn't a faggot hit someone?"
Brent rolled his eyes. "Terry, faggots don't fight. They're afraid of getting hurt. They're all kind of like big sissies."
Terry thought about Gary and his attack on Stewart. It just didn't fit with what Brent said.
During the following week everything seemed to return to normal. Gary was discharged from the hospital, but Terry was unable to find out where he went. He seemed to have totally disappeared. It was only some time later that Terry found out his former roommate had dropped completely out of school. After several days a tow truck came to drag off the vandalized Chevy, and so Gary passed completely out of his life.
Todd gave Terry a wide berth, going out of his way to avoid any accidental meeting in the corridor or bathroom. Stewart seemed to be following the same avoidance policy as well. When Terry first saw him a couple of days later, the two black eyes Stewart had were already beginning to fade, but they still gave him a comical appearance, kind of like an overgrown raccoon.
Terry made an appointment to see Dr. Baker, head of the theatre department, as the man had requested him to do at the show last weekend. When he was escorted into the tiny office, the man rose and shook his hand. He then chatted briefly about theatre in general and their college department in particular. While he spoke in his deep, resonant bass, Terry was able to glance surreptitiously around the room. Three of the four walls were covered floor to ceiling with book shelves. Most of the shelves were filled with texts on every aspect of theatre from acting to scene design. Terry noticed that several of the book spines listed "Baker" as the author. He wondered if this was the same man as now sat in front of him and visited so freely with a lowly freshman.
"So what are your plans in theatre?" the man asked, startling Terry out of his speculations.
"I'd like to be a performer."
The man nodded, his face smiling sympathetically. "I don't mean to discourage you, but so would about two hundred others in this university. And with a great deal of luck and hard work, perhaps one or two of you will actually make it. But we're pleased to have you with us and we'll try to give you a good, strong background. The rest is up to you."
Terry thanked the man for his kindness and then left the office. Far from discouraged, he was elated. Why couldn't he be the one out of two hundred who might actually make it. He would certainly work hard. The only thing he needed was the luck.
As he was leaving the theatre building Terry ran into Mary Margaret. She was a small, thin woman with short grey hair, a typical old maid spinster. She was also the cousin of Father Schmidt and ran the Catholic student center. She had an errand on campus and just happened to be going the same direction as Terry. Mary Margaret was evidently the woman who had accompanied the priest to Saturday night's production. She recognized Terry from the box office as well as having seen him on Sunday mornings, and had to tell him how much she had enjoyed the show. She thought it was a marvelous production and had a wonderful time. She never mentioned any problem with the seats or tickets, much to Terry's relief.
As they were about to part company the woman asked Terry if he would be available Sunday morning to carry in the bread or wine at the offertory. At this particular time in the ceremony a couple of members from the congregation would process down the aisle to offer the bread and wine on the altar. Terry reluctantly agreed. He was still self conscious about the recent happenings with Father Schmidt, as well as feeling guilty about missing Mass last Sunday. He wasn't sure that he wanted such a visible role in the ceremony, even if it was simple enough. Yet he couldn't very well tell this nice lady that he didn't want to take part in what to her was a very important event. And she did say she needed help on Sunday. How could he refuse?
The week passed quickly, and Terry and Brent were soon on their way to Sunday Mass in the lecture hall. Barney, a business major from the floor below was going with them. He had been attending mass on Saturday night at the church off campus, but decided to join them. Brent and Barney had a couple of classes together and were becoming good friends.
The lecture hall was unlike a real Catholic church in that there was no place to kneel. So during the part of the service when people usually knelt, they stood. So too, there was no tabernacle like a regular church, and consequently no reason to genuflect when entering the rows of seats. Still old habits were hard to break, and several people continued to drop to one knee before slipping into their row. Terry, Brent and Barney walked down the aisle and slipped into a row, then sat down. Barney saw a girl a couple of rows in front of them genuflect and realized that he hadn't. He turned to tell Brent, but his voice came out louder than he intended, and he got confused on the wording. "I forgot to ejaculate before I sat down," he said. Heads all over the hall turned to stare and Terry and Brent slowly sank in their seats trying to stifle the laughter. Meanwhile Barney looked on innocently, not aware of what he had said.
Father Schmidt entered, dressed in his brightly colored robes and walked to the front where a makeshift altar had been set up. He greeted his congregation and the service began. Just before the offertory Terry stood and slipped out of their row so that he could walk to the back of the hall where the bread and wine waited. As he stepped into the little foyer of the lecture hall, he saw two of the officers of the Catholic student organization, a boy and a girl, fussing around the table holding the bread and wine. "What do you want?" the boy asked as he noticed Terry standing nearby.
"I came to help," he explained to the boy.
"We can manage," the girl said as she picked up the chalice.
"Mary Margaret asked me to help," Terry said, feeling strangely conspicuous and out of place.
"We don't need your help," the boy said firmly and picked up the basket with the bread in it, then turned, a pious look descending over his face, and walked into the hall.
"Well, I guess if you don't need me, I don't need you," Terry said quietly as he watched the two walk slowly down the aisle toward where Father Schmidt stood smiling. Terry turned and stepped out of the building and into the bright, warm sunlight of late November. He felt strangely as if a great weight were being lifted from his heart. He knew that if Paula was right, the ceremony was so much silliness, and if Paula was wrong, then God didn't need him to carry a cup of wine or a loaf of bread to prove his worth in the world. Terry took a deep breath and began to walk across campus, heading for the park on the other side.