JENNY

I looked nervously at my watch as I waited for Jenny to come. As I sat on the cold concrete couch that they supplied for us here on campus, I watched other people walk by on the way to class or lunch or home. Sometimes I'd see those sappy lovers holding each other's hands extra tight, for fear of losing their fresh love to a more suitable suitor. You know how insecure kids are. It's not like I was that much older than the kids or anything, but I was at least a few years removed from most of my fellow students, now that I'd returned to school. Sometimes I wished it could be sappy like that for Jenny and me: moonlit walks on the beach; holding hands all day; standing in front of the bookstore, goofily looking eye to eye, oblivious to the pedestrian gridlock that naturally ensued. But I didn't want it that way when we started, and I'd be damned if I were to change it now. Besides, it'd be easier to end it if we weren't all that close to one another, and of course it couldn't last.

And still, as the kids walked by with their designer coffees and bottled waters, I waited for Jenny. Finally, I saw her walking toward me. I was anxious, yet I didn't walk up to meet her--I waited for her to come to me, watching her the whole time. She closed her eyes as we met in a short, but slow kiss. My eyes glanced around briefly before I looked at her face and broke the ice with, "So, how're classes?"

She went on a little about some bastard professor and his quizzes. Of course, I hadn't waited here an extra fifteen minutes to listen to her talk about her classes.

"Sounds like life's a bitch. Are you ready?"

She gave me a little punch on the shoulder in reply to my comment and said, "Sure."

We walked side by side, our knuckles brushing while we squeezed through a crowd of students just out of class. Passing through the parking lot, I had to pat her on the butt so she'd turn around after she missed seeing my car. I opened the door for her, and checked to make sure she sat down comfortably. Her head was slightly down as I looked at her through the windows, before I opened the driver's side and fit myself behind the wheel.

We'd hit a couple stop signs and traffic lights before she finally spoke. "So when do we get to go to your place?"

"Oh, you don't wanna go to my place. Yours is much better. Nothing exciting to see at my place. Your place is much closer, anyway."

"You're silly. I really want to see where you live. It'd be nice to be in your bed for a change."

I cringed, saying, "Um . . . How about next Thursday? I think I can manage that."

That seemed to placate her, as she just mumbled approvingly and kept quiet for the rest of the ride. I didn't offer anything either, since my mind was racing with the idea of her coming to my place. I'd really have to prepare. Hide all the photographs, make sure no mail was hanging around, rearrange stuff in the medicine cabinet. As for bringing her to the apartment, I could do it, but not on the spur of the moment. I'd been trying real hard to put it off, too, since they always say you get sloppier the more comfortable you get. It was hard enough driving Jenny around in my car without sweating about her possibly opening the glove compartment and looking at the insurance and title papers. At least she didn't wear strong perfume or leave things in the car.

When we got to her place, the pleasantries of speech quickly made way for other pleasantries--some of which I didn't regularly experience, except with Jenny. Later, as we lay in her bed, she rested with an ethereal smile. I stared at her stuffed animals on the dresser, one hand behind my head, the back of the other wiping my mouth, as I both thanked and cursed God for nineteen-year old college students and three-day long business trips. I just hoped my dog wouldn't bark at her when I brought her home. Jenny, that is.

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