Book 2, Chapter 20
 T
imothy walked slowly up the back stairs from the washroom, in the
basement, past the landing between the basement and the first floor. He smelled
his hands and looked at them. They look clean but they smell like soapy water,
he thought. He wondered where Daniel had gone. Daniel and Richard had left
the washroom, going through the swinging door into the dining room. They were
in a hurry.
He climbed the stairs, looked through the small window in the door that
lead to the living room. Stan was sitting at the baby grand piano, picking at the
keyboard, trying to play a Delta Rho sweetheart song. Bill Dorman was reading
in one of the highbacked brocade chairs. He tapped his cigarette as Timothy
turned his head and looked up the back stairs toward the next landing between the
first and second floors.
He heard no sounds from the second floor, and turned right into the
bathroom, walked past the sink area and continued into the commode room. He
unzipped his cords and urninated in the the middle urinal. Three urinals and ten
commodes. Who decides? How do they decide? Three of these and four of those.
Cameron slapped Timothy on the back. “How yuh doin’ roomy?” he
asked whistling as he walked out of the bathroom. Timothy watched Cameron
walk carefree throught the swining door and straight ahead in their room. The
happy hooligan, Timothy thought.
He zipped his fly and walked into the bathroom and stood in front of a
sink. He turned on the faucet, watched the water run over his hands, and thought
about Ferris. Where was he? Why did his parents think he was dead? What
should I do about this? I need some help on this matter. He rubbed soap over his
hands, reached for a paper towel, dried his hands, and walked out of the
bathroom through the hall landing, he pushed the swinging door open and walked
into his study room.
He stopped and looked at Cameron as he saw the large clothing box on his
desk. Bastions For Men Only was printed across the box cover in white block
letters against the pale blue box. “What’s this?” he asked Cameron. “I this your
box?”
Cameron shook his head, no. “Isn’t there a note?”
“Yah, yah, there is,” Timothy said in a puzzled tone. He snapped the
sealed envelope off of the dark blue string. He stripped it open and read it,
“To our young friend, Timothy Dexter. To a friend of our son, Donald
Matteson. It was signed, Marion and Hammond Matteson (Mattie). May you
enjoy this as much as we enjoyed buying it for you. Love.”
Timothy grabbed his scissors out of the coffee can that held his pens and
pencils and snipped the strings on the clothing box. He lifted the lid, threw open
the tissue paper and saw the jacket to a tuxedo. He lifted the jacket out of the
box and looked at the front and the back.
“Have you ever purchased clothes from Bastions in Naptown?” he asked
Cameron. He looked at and handled the other articles in the box.
“Yah, why?” Cameron responded.
“The jacket, trousers, cummerbunds...”
“There’s more than one cummerbund?” Cameron asked. He stood up,
pushed his chair backward against his sliding door, walked around his desk and
stood next to Timothy. He looked inside the box.
“There’s two: one is a dark blue and the other is some type of plaid,”
Timothy said holding them up.
Cameron took them and asked, “What else?” He laid the plaid
cummerbund back in the box, and put on the blue one around his waist. Fits me
too,” he said. “Who sent these to you?”
“The Mattesons...Don’s parents,” Timothy said looking at the slacks.
“Two pair of pants,” he said, “two pair of thin, black socks...”
“Formal hose,” Cameron interjected as he took the blue cummerbund off
and put it back in the clothing box.
“A blue and plaid cravat,” Timothy said. "A beautiful necktie! And look
at these shirts: one with ruffles and one plain,” Timothy said holding them up to
his chest, in turn.
“Almost two of everything,” Cameron said. “Did you get two pair of
shoes?”
“No. Just one pair,” Timothy said. “Boy, these are really good shoes.
Expensive shoes!”
Cameron looked inside the right shoe. “Hey, roomy!” he said laughing,
“my size too.” He measured a shoe against the bottom of his foot. “Yep. We’re
twins.”
Timothy returned his smile as Donald Matteson walked into the room.
“Hey guys!” he said. “What’s all this?”
“Do you know what your parents sent me?” Timothy asked as Donald
stood between Cameron and Timothy.
“Yah. A tuxedo.”
“Why, Don?”
“Because I didn’t want you to have to rent a tux, and just because I
wanted them to do this.” Donald sat down in the large overstuffed armchair. He
tipped the floor lamp shade. “It’s the least they could do. You got me through
the first semester, right?”
“You got yourself through first semester, Don,” Timothy replied as he
slid the closet door to the left, took out a hanger and drapped his tuxedo jacket
on it and hung it up.
“Hey, Dex,” Don said. “Check the bottom of the box.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a plastic suit bag. You can hang your formal clothes in it.”
“I’ll have to visit this Bastions For Men Only, one of these days,”
Timothy said unfolding the white, plastic suit bag. “Have you shopped in
Bastions, Don?”
“Bastions, in St Louis,” Don said. He shifted in the armchair. “You
gonna’ try them on now?”
“No. The size indicates they’ll fit O.K.”
“I’ve got to take a shower.” He took of his shirt and tie, threw them in
the dirty clothes basket, unizipped his cords, dropped them to the floor and
stepped out of them. “I thought that maybe I would hit the sack early tonight. Got
a big day tomorrow!” He hung his cords on a peg inside his clothes closet and
sat in the straight-backed chair. He raised his left leg and pulled off his sock. He
raised his other leg and pulled of the sock on the other foot. He threw the socks
into the clothes basket. “Got to wash my clothes too. I’ll get to that tomorrow.”
“What a body you have, Dex,” Donald said slouching down in the
armchair. “If I had your body I’d throw mine away!”
“You think so?” Timothy responded.
“Natural athlete,” Cameron added and went back to reading his book.
Timothy stood up, opened up his bottom drawer in the narrow dresser,
took out a white towel and hung it around his neck. He took off his underwear
briefs, threw them in the clothes basket, turned and started out of the room.
“Hey, Dex,” David Parlee said. “Tomorrow, it’s Philosophy 200 with
Professor Deutcher!” He leaned against the doorjamb.
“Hey there, Dave, David Parlee, Grand Rapids, Michigan, red, straight,
ruddy, blue, 185, 5 feet 10 inches, Who’s the prof?” Timothy said walking
toward David.
“Professor Gerhardt Deutcher. He’s a retired German Methodist
minister.”
“Is that good?” Timothy said walking past David into the hall.
“We’ll find out, won’t we, mon ami, my friend?”
David talked to Timothy as Timothy continued through the swinging door
and toward the bathroom.
“Hey, Dex, you smell good,” David laughed catching the door and
swinging it open again. “Are you sure you need a shower?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he responded as he turned toward the shower room and
walked out of sight.
“Maybe it’s you cologne. What do you use, anyway?” David asked
stopping at the door to the bathroom.
“Savage,” Timothy resonded. He turned on the shower.
“Of course,” David said. He walked backed down the hall and hummed
as he thought about the philosophy class, deep discussions they would have, papers
he must write discrediting philosophers who held indisputable conclusions on
life, living, dying. He had visions of himself giving speeches to the class that
would be heralded not only in his own philosophy class, but throughout the
campus. He turned the corner to continue down the second floor hall toward his
room and ran full body into Stan Ferguson. “Hell, Stan, Stan Ferguson,
Bloomington, Indiana, black, curly, ruddy, brown, 190, 6 feet, 2 inches, can’t you
hum, whistle or stomp your feet when you walk through the hall?” He held his
crotch. “You got me where it hurts, sticks!” he said frowning at Stan who stood
silently and appeared to be unhurt. “You’re too fucking big to miss in this
hall...” He stopped talking and looked at his silent pledge brother. “Stan!” Stan
stared at him. “Stan! Hello Stan!” He grabbed Stan by his shoulders and moved
to his side against the wall. “There we are fella!” He straightened
Stan’s tie, his sweater, stepped back and said, “You just stand there as long as
you want to.” He walked backward slowly toward his study room. “And when
you get tired of standing there, just slip down to the floor, fold your hands and
go to sleep.” He looked at Stan who still watched David. I don’t know why I
bother with him. He opened the door to his study room. He’s such a Derk!
Timothy walked into the frosh dormitory, walked to his lower bunk, and
took off his bathrobe. “Anybody awake?” he asked.
“I am,” Richard said.
Richard LaSalle, Chicago, Illinois, brunette, straight, medium, brown,
190, 6 feet,2 inches, Timothy thought recognizing Richard’s voice.
“Me!” Chief yawned.
Chief Pomeroy, Missoula, Montana, black, curly, ruddy, blue, 190, 6 feet,
Timothy thought and could see the tall Rocky Mountains that were’s part of
Chief’s childhood.
“Carp, Ray, and Mike are already asleep,” Chief added. Carp, Carpenter
French, Las Vegas, Nevada, dark red, straight, light, brown, 170, 5 feet, 10
inches, Ray, Raymond Swanson, Buffalo, New York, light brown, curly, medium,
blue, 180, 6 feet, and Mike, Michael Paine, Cleveland, Ohio, black, curly, light,
blue, 175, 5 feet, 11 inches, Timothy thought. He chuckled at how easy it had
been to become acquainted with his pledge brothers. He rubbed his body briskly
with his hands, opened the casement window, for fresh air, and climbed into his
bunk bed.
Timothy sniffed the fresh Frebruary air and thought about adding more
personal information about his pledge brothers like their majors in school,
orgnaizations they joined, and their degrees when they got them, to their pledge
ident. I’ll bring it up at the next pledge class meeting, he thought. “Hey Carp,”
Timothy said turning over on his stomach. “What’s your major? Do you know
yet?”
“Yeah!” Carpenter said. “I’m going to be a minister.” Timothy heard
Carpenter turn in his bunk. “Why’d you ask, Dex?”
“You know how we used the pledge ident?”
“Yeah! What about it?”
“We can use it to keep information about each other, not only when were
in school, but later. We’ve got the ident memorized and it would be easy to add
additional information. Since you’re going to become a minister, your ident is,
“Carpenter French, Las Vegas, Nevada, dark red, straight, light, brown, 170, 5
feet, 10 inches, pre-Theo.”
“You’re in the frosh men’s choir, so we could add that too, like this,
Carpenter French, Las Vegas, Nevada, dark red, straight, light, brown, 170, 5
feet, 10 inches, pre-Theo, Mens’ Frosh Choir,” Timothy said. “Anything else?”
“No! No other clubs yet! No. Nothing else, for now!”
“Hung like a horse,” Raymond said.
“No. Please don’t say that,” Carpenter said. Ray, Raymond Swanson,
Buffalo, New York, light brown, curly, medium, blue, 180, 6 feet.
“Good idea, though, Dex,” Raymond said.
“Hey you guys,” Michael interrupted, “here comes Harley and Jonathan.”
Michael, Michael Paine, Cleveland, Ohio, black, curly, light, blue, 175,
5 feet, 11 inches, Timothy thought as Harley threw open the door to the frosh
dormitory. Talent, looks, and money! The lucky guy! Timothy’s rewrite of
Michael’s ident scrolled through his mind, Michael Paine, Cleveland, Ohio,
black, curly, light, blue, 175, 5 feet, 11 inches, straight As, pre-Med, talent,
money and looks. Or is it, talent, looks, and money?
Timothy turned toward the wall and closed his eyes.
“I don’t know why you said I shouldn’t do that?” Harley asked. “Carol
loves to be hugged.”
“Carol?” Jonathan said. “I thought we were talking about Janice!”
“I was with Carol tonight!” They climbed into their bunks. “I hope you
didn’t call her Janice!”
“No, I didn’t,”Jonathan said.
Silence returned to the dormitory.
After a few moments, Harley asked, “What is it you know about Janice
to tell me she doesn’t like to be hugged?” Harley turned over in his bunk and
looked down at Jonathan in the lower bunk beneath him.
“She told me, she has an aversion to too much petting!” He looked up
at Harley. “You heard her say that, the night the four of us....”
“Four, who?” Harley asked.
“Janice and you and Lucy and me,” Jonathan said. “When we were
playing bridge.”
“Really?” Harley asked. “I don’t remember!”
“I do,” Michael said. “She only wants to be hugged by my legs!”
“You’re nasty, Michael,” Harley said. “Butt out!”
Timothy smiled at the conversations and finally went to sleep.
T
imothy walked into the second floor of Hamlin Hall and walked down
the hall looking for room 210. He saw the room number and walked into the
classroom. He looked at the half-filled desks and saw that the classroom
contained over one-hundred student desks and was laid out in three, separate
levels. He looked at the first level, up the second level and then to the third
level.
“Dex,” David said, “Up here with the nose bleed crowd.”
Timothy walked across the classroom to the second level. He stepped up
onto the second level and walked to the third level. Just like the risers in men’s
choir,he thought as he approached David. “Hi,” he said.
“Sit down,” David said. “I’ve saved a seat for you.”
“I would rather sit closer to the front,” Timothy said.
“You keep your eye on the Prof from down there and I’ll watch things up
here!”
Timothy walked backed down to the first level and sat down in a desk in
the first row. He looked at the long, wooden table in front of the blackboard.
Professor Gerhardt Deutcher. Philosophy 200.
He looked at the doorway as watched Sally Farmer walk into the room.
She saw Timothy and sat down next to him. “Should be fun, don’t you think?”
“I hope I learn something,” Timothy responded. He liked her cologne.
“Look’s like there aren’t too many in the class,” Sally said looking
around. “Wonder why?”
“Desks for about a hundred and only about twenty students so far.”
The Heroes Bell in the McHart Tower sounded twice. Let’s go Deutcher,
David thought. I’m about a mile from that bell and it sounds like it’s gonging in
this building. Big bell. Brass. Old. Must weigh a couple of tons.
An elderly man with pinz-nez glasses walked into the room and dropped
a large red book on the floor. He bent over to pick it up and a student quickly
picked it up and handed it to him. The elderly man walked over to behind the
table and dropped six books on it. “Whoooh!” he said. “Heavy sons-a-guns, if
you get my drift.” David Parlee moved down to the first level and sat directly
behind Timothy.
“He’s a hundered and fifty,” he whispered. “Look at that hair. It’s going
in all directions.”
“I’m Professor Gerhardt Deutcher,” he said. He picked up the wooden
pointer and touched the word Professor on the blackboard and tapped the board
repeatedly. “Professor...Gerhardt...Deutcher.” He looked around the class.
“Don’t forget it and spell it right!” He looked at each student’s face. “Kay?”
“Oh God!” David moaned. “Get me out of here. How long do we have
to change classes?”
Professor picked up his books one by one, told the class which textbooks
they should buy and the name of the reference texts they could use in the DeLong
library.
“I’m an easy grader, I like the give and take of ideas, and I can guarantee
you that you will know something when you finish this class.
David relaxed and slid down in his desk. “Perhaps I was a bit hasty,” he
said. Doesn’t matter that I can scarcely understand his English with that thick
German accent, but it’s going to be hard to get over those liver lips. “Timothy,
can you understand him?”
Timothy nodded yes and Sally said, “almost!” She turned halfway toward
David and said in a consoling manner, “We’ll get used to it. Relax!”
I’d like to relax on you not with you, David thought.
“...by St. Augustine,” Professor said.
“What, by St. Augustine?” David asked.
“City of God,” Timothy, Sally, Professor and some of the class said.
“Your name, sir?” Professor said extending his pointer in David’s
direction.
“Dave...Dave Parlee,” David responded.
“Pay attention. please. I don’t like to give assignments more than once.”
“Eeeew,” David said.
Professor tapped his left ear. “Damned hearing aid,” he said. “I didn’t
understand what you said, Mr. Parlee, is it?” The class giggled and snickered.
“I said, Oh! That’s spelled O followed by the alphabet letter H!, sir!”
Professor stared at David for a short time and then started his discussion
of the City of God. Timothy was pleased by the descriptions and was confused
by the meaning of some of the passages. He liked the way Professor read various
narratives and asked rhetorical questions and questions he wanted the class to try
and answer.
The Heroes Bell gonged three times. “They should try bells in the halls,
like we had in high school,” David said as Professor dismissed the class.
David, Sally and Timothy walked out of the class and moved slowly down
the hall.
“Where do you go now?” Timothy asked Sally.
“American History right here in Hamlin. Room 220.” The pledge brothers
walked her to the doorway of her next class. “How about you?”
“I go to gym. Actually it’s the pool. Senior life saving,” Timothy said.
“I have U.S. Government on the first floor,” David said.
“Timothy,” Sally said speaking softly. “Is it true guys don’t wear suits
in the pool?”
“What do you think?” Timothy said.
“I heard you don’t,” she said as Timothy and David walked slowly toward
the stairs.
“Why don’t you tell her we’re as naked as jaybirds and it looks like an
indoor bare ass beach?” David said to Timothy. They laughed.
“Always leave them guessing,” Timothy said. He turned and looked back
at Sally who was still waiting for an answer. He winked at her. She winked back,
turned and disappeared into the classroom.
Ivy Walls, Book 2, Chapter 20
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