"It is not good that the man should be alone."
KellyAnn Johnson
Middlebrook Hall
West Bank, University of Minnesota
In the first few days we were there, Sarah and I got
to be good friends. She's really cool. In a way, she reminds
me of my high school roommate Lori, who's going to SCSU. (I
hope Lor comes down to visit soon--Sarah will love her!)
We made a pretty good team, actually. My mom
shipped me off to Catholic boarding school in tenth grade, which
is just as cool as it sounds. That is, it isn't. But it did
get me used to living in a dorm, so I was pretty well able to
handle things with rooming arrangements--and Sarah didn't argue.
Meanwhile, Sarah's been going here part time through PSEO for
the past year, so she kind of knows the academic layout. We
helped each other out with email, buying books, working the
cafeteria for all it's worth, and pretty much everything else.
It was a fun time, and the only thing that was at
all weird was that, from time to time, Sarah would seem to
disappear off the face of the Earth, or she'd have to run back
up to the room during supper, stuff like that. I wondered what
the girl was up to, but not too much. Maybe she missed her mom.
Maybe she was using an Electolux special. Either way, she
needed space, I gave space. I just hoped she'd do the same for
me.
* * *
Scott Chelgren
Middlebrook Hall
West Bank, University of Minnesota
Welcome Week was Hell.
I got to see Sarah maybe three times a day. The
rest of the time she was running off with Kelly, going to eat,
or watch movies or something.
I, meanwhile, was stuck in the box.
What's worse, Sarah started talking about showing me
to Kelly. She said Kelly was nice, and cool, and...well, she
seemed nice. But I had too many memories of broken bones and
crushing weights. For ever Sarah or Claire, there's a Victoria.
And I was not going to bet my life that Kelly was in the former
category.
But really, Victoria had been the only mean one....
No, I couldn't chance it. No matter what Sarah
said.
Could I?
At any rate, the absence didn't do wonders for our
relationship, I can tell you that. By the fourth day of Welcome
Week, I was fuming.
And the worst part was, I knew I was wrong.
* * *
Anonymous
Beverly Hills, California
I enjoy little more than sipping Chardonnay on the
veranda, reading a well-worn copy of "Gulliver's Travels," and
wondering about what might have been.
My family has always been connected with the Cadre,
ever since my great-great-grandfather William accidentally
accompanied Dr. Gulliver on his famous trip to Brobdignang--and
had decidedly different adventures. He returned to England with
the secret of GTS, a secret that would eventually be discovered
by the Athena League. You see--
--or more likely, you don't. It's a long story, one
for a different time, perhaps. At any rate, my seat on the
Cadre is hereditary, and I would have to screw up in a big way
to lose it.
Which I had almost done.
Damn fool! Let them see your liberal leanings at
your eighth meeting--speak out against the tide now, and
alienate yourself from everyone else--rather than build a slow
consensus to eliminate the Cadre.
For it had to be eliminated. Any damn fool could
see that. Maybe once we were fighting for man's rightful place
in the balance of the sexes (a dubious goal, at that). Maybe
once there were clearly defined male/female roles. But now?
Dear Lord, there are women's professional basketball teams that
outdraw men's professional basketball teams. Women are in the
workplace, Congress, even the military. Even if the Athena
League managed to release GTS, it would do little but put an
exclamation point on the evolution of relationships. Maybe if
we bargained now, it wouldn't have to come to that.
But bargaining was impossible with the old guard in
charge. Maybe Spielberg was on my side. He seemed reasonable.
Bluth I know was fed up, but he had left in the middle of the
last meeting, and nobody had heard from him since. And D.X. was
with me, I knew it....
I turned back to my computer. D.X., what are you
doing? Posting stories, on the internet, no less! I need you
on the Cadre--there are others who share our position, friend.
Stop this insanity, I implore you!
But it's no use. I sighed. I hoped he would come
back soon.
* * *
Scott Chelgren
Middlebrook Hall
West Bank, University of Minnesota
I sat in the box, and thought.
And thought and thought.
It was what I did for that first week. Almost all I
did. Oh, sure, I saw Sarah, and the time was sweet. But then I
went back in the box and thought some more.
And about the fifth day, I had an epiphany.
I would not know that I was wrong for too long after.
* * *
Sarah Kensington
Coffman Union
East Bank, University of Minnesota.
"Well, Scott, here it is--the place we first met."
I was trying to drag Scott out of the doldrums. My
fault--I'd been ignoring him, gallivanting across the East and
West Banks, while he lingered in my underwear drawer. So I had
taken him out to see the campus, and hopefully, to cheer him up.
"Where I first met you, you should say." His voice
was distant, and not just because of his height. It was a real
strain, these first few days. He was used to having me all to
himself--and now, well....
"I knew you were there. I felt a lump in the seat.
It went away, though." I tried to smile, but I had to admit the
strain was getting to me, too.
I slumped into the naugahyde, swayback chair, and
placed him on my shoulder. "I'm sorry this hasn't been a good
week for you, Scott, but I promise, I'll make it up to you."
"How?" he asked. "And why? This hasn't been a good
week because you've got a life. And, well, I'm....
"I'm holding you back, Sarah. I didn't think I was,
or at least I convinced myself I wasn't. But I am. I'm holding
you back. You'd probably be better off without me."
I know my jaw dropped. I knew things were bad,
but--was Scott dumping me?
I mustered my courage. "Scott--I would most
certainly not be better off without you, I--"
"--love me, I know, I love you, too. I love you
too much. I wish I loved you less, I could ignore what I was
doing to you. But you're having to worry about me when you
should be finding activities. Having to run up and feed me when
you should be enjoying dinner. Having to always worry if I'm
all right, rather than worrying about meeting a nice guy who can
be something other than a dependant."
"Scott, you don't understand, I love you, the way
you are. Always."
I could hear him sigh--barely audible, but clear to
me above anything. "Sarah, I wish I could be out of your
life--let you be able to live the way you should. I...I wish
that you didn't have to care for me, or worry where I was. I
had a chance to make that choice--and I made the wrong one. I'm
sorry."
And we both sat, crying. I didn't know what to say.
* * *
Scott Chelgren
Middlebrook Hall
West Bank, University of Minnesota
We traveled back to Middlebrook in silence. It was
a lot to burden the girl with, but I had to say it. Deep down,
I wanted her to take me back to Apple Valley. Or maybe just let
me go in Coffman Union. I wanted to stay with her, more than
anything--but that meant denying her the opportunity to be just
a normal, everyday college freshman.
And I had to give her that opportunity, somehow.
No doubt, Welcome Week had been Hell. But maybe
some good would come of it.
When Sarah returned to her room, Kelly was already
there. "HEY," she said, "JORDAN GOT COMPS TO BEN FOLDS FIVE AT
FIRST AVE--WANT TO GO?"
Ben Folds Five! Wow, that took me back to my
previous life, back to the last date I'd been on before...well,
before.
"UM--YEAH. JUST HAVE TO FRESHEN UP FIRST." That
was code for "I'm going to stash you in the drawer" but I'd have
none of it. I intended to go to that concert.
* * *
Sarah Kensington
Middlebrook Hall
West Bank, University of Minnesota
Scott was not going into the drawer--it seemed he
wanted to go to the concert.
Well, at least it was something. Almost, I thought,
a date. And hopefully it would shake him out of this mood of
his where he was convinced that I needed to get rid of him
somehow. Get rid of Scott? May as well chop my right arm
off--I could get by without him, but I remembered the way I felt
when I lost him in L.A.
So if Scott wanted to come, he could come. I tucked
him into my décolletage (his preferred method of travel--and I
wanted him to have that much more to think about) and walked
back into the room.
"It's Jordan, Kyle, you, and me," said Kelly,
smiling. Well, I thought Kyle was showing interest in me--guess
it's true. Too bad for him, I suppose. "Great!" I smiled. "We
going by bus?"
"Naw, I've got a car," said Kyle, brightly. He was
kinda handsome, in an odd sort of way.
"Well then, let's go," I said.
* * *
Anonymous
Beverly Hills, California
The call was completely unexpected.
"Sir," said Kozlowski, "Telephone."
Kozlowski was about as British as couscous, and as
epicure as a plowman, but he was a fine servant, with a fetish
for cleanliness and a tremendous work ethic. His accent was
faux-British, but only for humor's sake.
"Thank you, Kozlowski. 'Speaking,'" I said into the
phone.
"Is this Mr. J--"
"Please, no names. How may I assist you, madam?"
"Sir, this is Claire Danes."
I paused, flummoxed. How? "Miss Danes, how may I
be of service?"
The young lady continued. "Mr....Mister, I
understand that you are involved in a certain fraternal
organization that has great power in this town."
"That may be true, Miss Danes. I belong to many
organiz ations."
"This one calls itself the Cadre, and it is a most
exclusive bunch. Don Bluth, Steven Speilberg, Michael
Eisner...and a few others whose identities are not so readily
available."
My heart raced. "My dear girl, you must be
mistaken. There is no Cadre, at least none I'm aware of."
"Yes, he said you'd say that," she said, bluntly.
"Who said?" As if I didn't know.
"A Mr. Machina. He stopped by, read over my script,
got paged and left. But he gave me your name and number. He
said you could help smooth the waters for my project."
There was a grand pause. After an eternity, I
answered.
"Miss Danes...when would you like to meet?"
* * *
Scott Chelgren
First Avenue Night Club
First Ave and 7th St, Minneapolis
I could almost feel him, staring at Sarah, making
small talk, all the while wondering what he'd have to do to get
with this girl.
I couldn't fault him. After all, I'd spent much of
the past few months getting with this girl. She was someone
that radiated beauty of spirit and stature. He had good taste.
But he was a reminder. He was six feet tall. He
was a guy you could take home to mom, or go to spring formal
with.
Or walk down the aisle with.
I was none of those. I was nothing. Nobody. And
not even Sarah's reassurances could convince me otherwise.
I began to crawl out of my carrying case--I was
going to go on my last date with Sarah.
I had no idea it'd end the way it did.
* * *
Sarah Kensington
First Avenue Night Club
First Ave & 7th St, Minneapolis
Kyle was pretty cool, but not so cool as Scott. I
liked him, but there was still something about holding a man in
the palm of your hand. Who cared if the march down the aisle
would be a bit unusual? I was already trying to figure out how
to break the news to Mom when the time came.
We entered First Ave, and I was surprised that we
were being frisked. Nevertheless, I raised my hands and allowed
the man to pat me down (he was quick about it--very
professional). We then walked into the legendary club.
First Ave is gritty, and dirty--and amazing. It's a
great place to see a show. The place was packed with about
twelve hundred concertgoers, there to see Ben Folds and the
other two guys who made up Ben Folds Five. The five of us waded
in to the crowd.
Or so I thought.
* * *
Scott Chelgren
I hadn't been positioned correctly when Sarah lifted
her arms for the search. I dropped like a stone into her
shorts, and then only stopped because I was wedged into the
elastic. With every step she took, I slipped further and
further down. She couldn't feel me, apparently, and my arms
were pinned--I was unable to grab hold of anything.
I slipped, slowly but inevitably, until we hit the
floor. Then, I finally reached the bottom.
I fell.
I landed on the hard floor, dazed but unhurt.
There were feet everywhere. I was in big trouble.
But I was buoyed by one thought.
Sarah had lost me.
It would hurt, but in the long run, she'd be better
off.