LITMIR.BIZ

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pulse. After a moment he eased himself up the last few steps and into his room. Outside the window, insects chirred and the oak leaves rustled in the afternoon wind. He lay down on the mattress and fell into a sleep clogged with frustrating dreams.

      When he woke, the room was gray with dawn. He’d slept the night through. His head had stopped hurting. He sat up slowly, straightened his back, and focused his eyes on the wood floor a few feet in front of him. He took a long breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth, then another breath. He tried to think only of the air going into his lungs and back out. Random thoughts intruded—get gas for the car, review the last three chapters in international banking…he pushed them away, concentrating on making his mind the surface of a mirror. He adjusted to a more comfortable position and meditated for a time. He concentrated on breathing slowly, completely filling his lungs with each inhalation. His mind cleared. The dawn was silent except for the occasional scratch of the oak leaves on the window.

      Empty the mind, live only in the present moment, go straight ahead without confusion or hesitation. He thought of a statement in a book he was reading—I thought I had a long way to go to reach my destination, but when I turned around and looked behind me, I realized I had passed it long ago.

      By the time he had showered and dressed he felt great.

      * * *

      Mark strolled out of the library into the hot clear sunshine, stood for a moment on the steps, then turned left. Time for a beer at the Italian Village. He checked his watch. He’d spent exactly one hour studying, although some of the time had been spent daydreaming. A car separated itself from traffic and pulled into an empty parking space beside Mark. Larry Mitchell grinned up at him from the open window of his Mustang. “Let’s go inside and get a beer, I’m buying.” Larry was already out of the car and putting a coin in the meter.

      Mark made a show of checking his watch. “I don’t think so, not right now.” Larry’s ebullient energy could sometimes get a little abrasive, but Mark allowed himself to be propelled down Lowry Street.

      “It’s a big day, help me celebrate. I’m getting married,” Larry announced.

      Mark stopped and stared. “What? Now?”

      “Next spring.”

      Mark didn’t need to ask who Larry was marrying. Larry and Brenda had been dating since junior year in high school. Mark shifted his books and they shook hands. The I.V. was pleasantly empty. They slid into a booth while Grant poured a pitcher of Hamm’s and set it in front of Mark, “You jumping next Sunday?”

      “Yeah. You?”

      Grant nodded.

      Mark poured the glasses full and they toasted. “Well, Brenda is a great girl.” He didn’t say that he thought this was one of the dumbest ideas he’d ever heard. Get married to the same girl you’ve always dated. Straight out of college to work. Probably have a kid right away. House in the suburbs with a mortgage to match. The beer spread a glow of contentment in Mark, embellished by his sense of superiority over Larry, whose life was now over for all intents and purposes. Married at age twenty-one.

      In the past Mark had often been a little intimidated by Larry, with his new Mustang (bought by his parents), his extensive wardrobe (bought by his parents), and his blonde and beautiful girlfriend (insisted on by his parents), and his sense of purpose. He was also a mechanical engineering major, making passable grades, studying hard but not appearing to be over-stressed.

      Mark kept the smile on his face from becoming smug. “Congratulations Larry, I know this is what you want.”

      Larry gave him a quizzical look. “You don’t?”

      “Someday, but not soon.”

      “You still dating that girl from Columbia College?”

      “Yeah.” Mark studied his beer.

      “Well, don’t be afraid of commitment. The days pass, she won’t wait for you forever…”

      “We see each other all the time.”

      “Sure, sure,” Larry drank a healthy mouthful of cheap beer, “but does she know you’re serious, or does she think you’re just dating. Get serious or get out.”

      Mark sighed, not quite a snort. This, from a guy who never got out of a relationship in his whole life.

      “Hey, you know her?” Larry’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s giving you the eye.”

      Mark spotted Debbie standing just inside the door, waiting for him to recognize her. “Yeah, slightly.” Mark lifted his hand and Debbie came over with a big smile. Larry got up so she would sit between them.

      “Hi,” Larry said with a predatory grin, “I’m Larry Mitchell.”

      “Been looking for you,” she said to Mark while Larry went to the bar for a glass.

      “Yeah, well, I’ve been studying.” Mark pulled some change out of his pocket. “Go play some music, would you Debbie?”

      Larry admired Debbie’s tight blue jeans and white tee shirt, no bra, as she studied the selections in the jukebox. “Nice. Where’d you meet her?”

      Mark snorted again. “Get serious or get out, right?”

      But the sarcasm was lost on Larry, who was admiring Debbie as she came back to the booth humming along with the music, “‘...lazy diamond studded flunkies’…I really like that song.”

      Mark stood up and gave her a hug. “Listen Debbie, I really have to leave, sorry. Drink a beer with Larry.”

      Chapter 5

      By Friday afternoon of the first week of the semester, Mark knew his Thermodynamics class would be as bad as it had seemed on the first day. Bradley, a slicked-back-hair-Robert-McNamara type in a pressed shirt and tie, started the class with a quiz which Mark was certain he failed. Bradley told the class, “There’ll be a quiz every other Friday—they’ll be twenty-five percent of your grade, homework due every Wednesday, another twenty-five percent, exams are the rest of your grade.” Then he turned to the board and began writing out one formula derivation after another at high speed while Mark struggled to copy it all down. Fifty minutes later, Mark stumbled out, humbled. “Focus on the homework and the quizzes,” he muttered as he walked through the crowd of students to his next class. “Even if the midterm exam and the final are as bad as I expect they will be, I need to get a C in the course.” By the time he got to his next class in McAlester Hall, the gloom of Thermodynamics had lifted and he noticed it was a bright day, clear and crisp, not quite cool, but not hot and humid—the first hint of autumn. Mark went into the old high-ceilinged classroom and slid up one of the casement windows to let cool air wash in.

      Last class of the day, last class of the week, and it was his easy one. For the last two years Mark had been treating himself to one non-engineering course per semester because they were interesting, and also because they helped keep his grade point average up. Politics and Economics was his easy course for the fall semester. It was proving to be as interesting as he’d hoped, plus there were girls in it, unlike his engineering classes. Carol Bianchi, Dave’s former not-quite-girlfriend, was one of them.

      Professor Wollheim was comparing capitalism to socialism. Mark grinned. This was one of the beautiful Carol’s hot buttons, so there should be an interesting discussion today. Mark glanced at his watch. Forty minutes of class, then to happy hour at the Heidelberg.

      He had actually read the material, so he found his mind drifting on the cool breeze of the afternoon. Larry Mitchell, bulldozed by his parent’s expectations into getting married. A life-changing choice. Mitchell at least had had a choice, unlike Tim or Keith, even if he’d made the wrong one. Mark shook his head and tried to concentrate, put the feeling of superiority out of his mind, but it crept back. I have my freedom, Larry never will. Of course, I’m sure he feels he’s the one making the right decision, not me. True love, marriage right out of college,

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