I slept with my student! My highly annoying, badly dressed, foul-mouthed student!
I banged my forehead against the shower wall, twice.
Ow.
I rubbed the spot, feeling utterly ridiculous.
I finished up and dried off quickly, hoping that I might shake off the memory of last night by getting back to my regular routine, which included a trip downtown. Usually I would meet Matt for lunch twice a week since I was only on campus three out of five days and he spent most nights out. The sports bar was mostly run by his friend Shawn, which meant that Matt had plenty of time to womanize and have what he considered “a good time.”
I didn’t know why Matt wanted to spend so much time with me since he thought of me as boring, but it probably had something to do with him thinking that I was lonely. I enjoyed my own company, my books, and my TV, but I couldn’t deny that it would be nice to have a lady friend to spend time with, and someday I did want a family of my own. The possibility of that happening seemed less and less likely as the years passed by and I attended the weddings and christenings of my college friends and their families, perpetually alone. Still, I wasn’t one to complain. Solitude had become second nature to me. Even in high school, I had spent most of my nights and weekends on my own. I didn’t fit in anywhere. Branded a nerd because of my glasses and gangly physique, I was welcomed into their ranks, only to discover that I had little interest in role-playing games, the fantasy genre, or computers. I liked reading the classics, listening to my father’s old records, and playing chess, which made me an outcast even among the outcasts. In college and grad school it became a bit easier, and I was thankful for the handful of good friends I made back then, even if I didn’t get to see them very often.
Getting back to the matter at hand, I dressed in one of my usual outfits, shaved and looked at my hair. Matt had said that it looked like I had a combover with the way I usually did it, but it looked strange just sticking out in all different directions. I sighed heavily and decided to leave it as it was. I was sure to get an earful from my brother if I tried to style it in any way.
Half an hour later, when I reached the café, I saw him sitting outside and hurried over.
“Hey, bro, I almost gave up on you,” he said, giving me a strange look. “You’re late, and you’re never late.”
“I know,” I said, sitting down across from him. “Sorry about that, I overslept.”
“You overslept?” he asked. “I guess hell just froze over.”
I didn’t offer an explanation. As far as Matt knew, I had gone home before nine last night and I had no convincing lie to tell him.
“Burning the midnight oil?” he asked with a concerned look on his face. “You shouldn’t work so much, Stephen. It’s not good for you.”
I just nodded and looked at my menu.
“Although,” he added, “you do look a lot better than yesterday. Either I need glasses, or the vein has mysteriously vanished.”
Reflexively, I touched my forehead and watched as my brother grinned.
“Did you have a nice little session of self-loving after seeing your Ms. Wilde on that table last night?” he asked, making a crude motion with his hand.
“Matt!”
“What?” he shrugged. “It’s not like it’s going to make you blind. There’s nothing wrong with a round of Jack Kerou-whacking to ease a little tension!”
Jack Kerou-whacking?
“I made that one up just for you,” he added with a grin.
I rolled my eyes, although I had to admit that his pun was somewhat clever.
“So, did you?” he asked.
“Are you seriously asking me that? You should know me well enough to realize that I would never answer your question,” I said sourly, hiding my face behind my menu.
“I know. I just like to mess with you. You’re so serious all the time, Stephen. You need a little fun in your life.”
“I have fun,” I said defensively, lowering my menu.
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
Luckily, the waitress came out to take our orders. I watched as Matt flirted shamelessly with her. She responded with a smile, hitting his shoulder playfully as though they were old friends.
“Do you know her?” I asked him when she left.
“No, but I think I’m going to,” he said, his eyes following her as she walked inside. “Nice ass.”
How can women like a man who says something like that? I don’t understand it at all.
I had been perfectly polite to the waitress and she had barely looked at me. But Matt had made a suggestive comment about wanting something sweet, and it made her laugh. I really didn’t comprehend those sorts of interactions.