“Oklahoma, I think.”
“Oh, God.Really?” Her voice dripped with disdain. “I’m going to have to tell your father about this, I suppose. It’s going to ruin dinner.”
“Don’t tell him then. Let’s wait for a bit, and let me see how things are going.” I pleaded.
“If it’s truly fated, Darren, there’s only one way it can go. Don’t be naïve.” I heard the snap of her purse.
“Please?”
“Fine. But you have to tell him at Christmas, Darren, and that is not negotiable. He deserves to know. That will give us time to figure out how to stop him from throwing one of his patented fits when he doesn’t get his way.”
“Are you happy for me?” My voice broke.
She sighed dramatically. She was very good at this. “I don’t know… Yes, I guess I am. One in a million… You… Yes. I’m just not sure I approve.”
“You’ll love him. He’s very educated and knows everything about classical music.” At least he and Mom would have that connection.
“We’ll see. Now I really do have to run. All of the ladies have arrived, so I can make my entrance now. Have a good day and… Darren? Make good decisions.”
She ended the call, and I stared at the phone for a minute as I thought about the conversation. It could have been much worse. I told her, and she didn’t hang up on me. She was happy. I think.
But the question about his family was what I was expecting. I had no idea where his family was from until Tuesday night when we actually got to know each other. We stayed mainly on the surface stuff, but he told me that. My family was very judgy. If you came from a respected family – then nothing was wrong. But if you weren’t from one of those families, then you were fair game. Poor was the word Mom said. Of course, she did.
“Yo – asshole!” I jumped at the sound of the voice right in my ear. “Big dude!” There stood Stan the Man, an older student who would possibly not ever graduate, but we were all happy to have him around. If you wanted anything – any kind of contraband or party favors – Stan was most definitely your man.
“Sup, Stan? I almost turned around and decked you, dude.” I held out my hand, and he reached out to grab it before making his fist flat and sliding it in the air beside me. “Still the same old Stan. Haven’t seen you yet this year.”
“Yeah, big dude. You haven’t been to the frat parties. What the fuck?” His long ponytail wagged behind him. He always wore this old brown leather trench coat, even if it was summer. Stan was one of a fucking kind.
“I’ve been busy?”
“What’s her name?” He grinned and crossed his arms.
“Nope.”
“Oh… So what’shisname?” He licked his top lip and wagged his eyebrows. He really was like a bad Matthew McConaughey impression gone sideways. You talk to him and think it’s all an act – but it wasn’t. Stan was one of a kind.
“Ain’t none-ya business, Stan. Hey, are you still making that vanilla extract? I want to get some of that before the holidays.” I always baked cookies before heading home for Christmas. Well, more like I kind of burned cookies, but I still liked having them around. It made me feel comfortable having them around during finals. It helped with studying. And Stan’s vanilla extract… I don’t know why, but it made all the difference in the world. Even if it was weird that it was one of his many side hustles. A senior on the team had told me to find Stan, and I wouldn’t regret it. I’m not really sure he meant the extract. He was a bit of a wild child.
He looked around to see if anyone was listening. Stan liked to pretend he operated in the shadows, but everyone and anyone who had been on this campus in about a decade knew Stan and what he did. “You know it, big dude. I got you covered. I mean, I ain’t got none on me right now, but I’ll deliver it whenever you’re ready, bro. Next time you order a pizza, I’ll make sure to have some in the car, bro.”
“Thanks, man.”
I glanced at the time and realized it was time for my lesson.
“Yo, Stan, I gotta motor, bro. See you around.” I grabbed my backpack.
“Not if I see you first, big dude. Stay cool.” He shot me a peace sign and walked away.
I ran up the stairs to the studio, taking two stairs at a time. By the time I got to Thomas’ door, I was sweaty again. Hopefully, he only smelled the honeysuckle and not the locker room. I knocked.
“Come in,” Thomas called, happier than usual after hearing me on the other side of the door. That was a good sign. My tongue down his throat a couple nights ago was an even better sign.
I opened the door, and he smiled at me as he sat on his desk. I looked around and noticed that the accompanist was not present.
“Where’s Monica?” I smirked.
“Stop that. That smirk is too dangerous for this classroom.” He slid off the desk and suppressed a smile. “I thought since we were… taking things slowly, that she wasn’t necessary any longer. Only my performance kids need a piano player. We’ll manage the way I do with my other students.”
