Inconstant Moon - Default Font Edition (8 page)

Ensconced in his basement domain, Adam works hard; clearly, in his element.

Computers in all states of being, some live and Internet ready, others gaping with all their chips exposed, are set up along the wall to wall work bench.

Motherboards, cables and capacitors are tidily stored in boxes and bins.

But the only computer he has eyes for today is Barbie's. He spent the weekend getting it done. Such chaos; files scattered all over the laptop.

It was close, getting it all done for today, but that's what he promised. Now every thing is backed up and the defrag is finally done. Adam can't wait to give it to her.  To Barbie.

The circle of friends reclines on the grass in their special clearing off the beaten track. Soaking up rays beside the creek running through the woodlot, Barbie languorously passes the joint to Jose, stretched out beside her. He takes a satisfying drag and smiles.

“Nice of Mister Sunshine to drop in for a visit, eh?” He passes it on to Tamara, who takes just a light pull before handing it off to Quentin. Q takes a couple of tokes and passes it on to Mouse.

Tamara sits up, feeling just a bit spinny, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to clear her head before the dissection lab she has this afternoon. She smiles down at Quentin, who flashes his own pearly whites in a wolfish grin.

“You're not leaving,” he asks.

“Yeah, babe, I can't afford to miss the lab.” She leans over and gives him a kiss before she struggles to her feet. She looks down at Barbie laying there. The girl is totally wasted. “You coming Barb?”

“I don't think it'd be such a good idea Tam. I think they'd notice.” And she starts in giggling.

“Yeah, you're probably right. Later.” Tamara waves to the group and hurries off to the Bio building. The air feels good, the sun is soft and warm but she's got a bit of a head. That's it for me, she thinks, not for the first time. Can't afford to toke up at lunch any more. No way no how.

Tamara has wanted to be a doctor since she was small. Since her brother got the doctor kit she wanted for Christmas.

But she'll have a real doctor kit soon.

She's worked too hard and too long to get here. Slaving night and day to get the math, but she did it. And now Tamara realizes that she has to get her head into the program or she's gonna end up booted out. That is not in the plan. Stick to the program. Get it done.

Yes.

Adam walks through the Oval carrying Barbie's laptop. It is indeed crowded with students sitting, eating, walking, talking and enjoying the beautiful weather.

Adam stops, and starts slowly scanning the sea of humanity. She said she'would be here. As his eyes travel from group to group, always looking for the brightest blondes, he simply can not see Barbie anywhere.

It is a poser. She said she would meet him here. But it is so crowded. Her cellphone must be switched off. He has already used the cafeteria pay phone to leave messages on her voice mail, so she must know he is trying to find her.

He starts to walk along the path, careful not to trip over students or gear spread out along the way. Adam carefully checks every blonde girl, but there is no sign.

He is getting some funny looks when he makes the circuit fruitlessly a second time.

But now at least he is sure she is not here. He knows Barbie is pre-med, but he has no idea of her schedule. They have no overlapping classes. He doubts the registrar will give out her information.

He knows she does not live on campus so there is no point checking the residences. Wait a minute. He has her computer. He came where she told him to come. He's searched diligently, and she is just not here.

But she will need the laptop for just about everything.

He smiles as he pictures her making pencil notes in a lecture hall where everyone else is using a laptop.

Barbie will want her computer back. She will come looking for him.

Having a woman like Barbie looking for him, searching him out, asking people if they know where he is, would be good.

Act natural, don't deviate from his normal activities. Stay in character. Go to the library.

Let her find him. Adam smiles. It is just what his brother would do.

Tamara pushes open the door of the Med School wing of Christie General, a facility originally built in a sleepy rural backwater in the 19th Century. Deliberately removed from urban centres of industry and disease, quiet and fresh air was more responsible for the high rate of patient survival than many of the dubious medical practices of the day.

Sixty years later the institutional quiet was breached forever with an influx of Great War casualties no other facility had the beds to accept. Survivors of mustard gas, battlefield surgery and shell shock desperately needed housing and treatment. No longer just a quiet place where the railroad petered into a train yard, the town expanded to accommodate an ever increasing flow of visitors, sprawling down the valley to meet the river.

With an end to the war, several military surgeons followed their former patients to Christie, bringing with them surgical innovations developed in wretched battlefield conditions, triggering the transformation from sanatorium to teaching hospital. It wasn't long before Christie University grew up around the bustling hospital.

Tamara undresses in the locker room, slipping into scrubs and stuffing her clothes in the locker. She notes the quiet, but brushes her unease aside as she hurries to the Lab. It's later than she thought. Damn.

Opening the door she's surprised to find the lab empty.

Nobody here.

Nothing to cut.

WTF? Maybe she got the day wrong? Must have been rescheduled. Wish somebody had told her, given her a call, something. She could have stayed in the sun with her baby. Maybe she can still catch him.

She goes back into the hall when the men's locker room door slams open and startles her. She whirls to look but it's only Nick, backing out with a wheelie bin.

“Gee, Nick, you scared me. What happened to the dissection?”

Nick looks at her. He thinks she's intelligent enough, but he knows if she doesn't get it together soon she's gonna be history. Her big brown eyes look so open, so serious. Probably because her pupils are so widely dilated.

“The dissection went off as scheduled at one, Tamara.”

“At one. I thought . . . it's after one?”

Nick nods toward the wall clock, “It's after three.”

She stares at him, aghast. “Oh no.”

Nick starts wheeling the sharps cart away, but he feels sorry for the girl standing there, conflicted. Maybe she'll pull it up if he gives her a word. She looks pretty devastated. So he stops.

“Look, I know you're really smart. But if you don't focus you're just not going to make it. There are too many people who want your spot. If you want an easy ride you're in the wrong program, you want to transfer to something else 'cause there just isn't any slack for a pre-med.”

Her head is bowed and her shoulders are shaking. But when she speaks her words are steady, though her voice is thick with tears. “Can I make up the dissection with another class?”

“Come by the office after five. I'll see what I can do.” Nick shrugs. “I think you might make a good doctor, Tamara, but maybe not. What you do on your own time is your business, but I can smell the pot from here. And that sure isn't the way.”

Tamara says. “It won't happen again.”

Pushing the bin toward the store room he hears her say softly, “Thanks Nick.”

Quentin snores gently, Barbie and Jose are asleep too. Mouse gathers her things and jiggles Quentin's shoulder.

“I have to go to a class Quentin, but somebody should be awake. Too easy to rob sleeping people, yes?”

Bleary eyed, Quentin nods, rubbing his head, “I got it, Mousie.” He struggles to sit up. “Man, that was good shit.”

She grins enthusiastically and waves before jogging back toward the main path.

Quentin flips open his phone, and scrolls through the calendar. He's missed one class already, but probably slip into the art theory snooze without getting busted. School just makes him tired. But he wants Tamara to be happy.

So.

Much as he'd rather kick back in the sun, he knows he has to go, so Quentin reaches over and gives Jose a shake.

“Hey man, Mouse's gone, and I've gotta go too.” Stretching, himself awake. “You guys probably don't wanna sleep out here, you know.”

Staring up at the soft clouds, Jose says, “Yeah. I know.”

Quentin grins, “Later, dude,” and is gone.

Jose stretches and yawns hugely before rooting around in his backpack and pulling out a water bottle. He unscrews it and takes a swig, then sets it down beside him, crosses his arms and rests them on his knees and watches the water running along the creek bed. Jose does more stretching, then some yawning and now he's awake. He wants something sweet. And Goldilocks is laying there waiting for him.

He sure likes the girl. What's not to like? Does she like him though? She seems to, flirting all the time. Not a bad time to find out. Another sip of water, and he lays back again on the grass. Rolls on his side, watching her sleep. Pretty girl all right. White Anglo Saxon Protestant. Doesn't act it though, smoking up with Catholic boys like him and Q. Hell, he's the Latin lover type, right? The corner of his mouth turns up as he thinks about that one.

Watching the girl sleep is pretty intimate. Her breath is on him. Better wake her up. He reaches out a finger and runs it along her jaw. She smiles, mumbles something. He leans closer, to hear. Right. He touches her shoulder.

“Hey Barbie, it's getting late, we gotta go.”

“Mmmm, just a few more minutes.”

He smiles, this time running a finger along her lips. Her eyes open, she looks right at him, “Mmmm, Jose, hey.”

He sees an invitation in those blue blue eyes, and he leans in, kisses her gently. Oh wow, she's kissing back.

He can't believe his luck. She pulls him close, really going to town. He hugs her back, enjoys the way she's so aggressive, the way her curves feel against him, kinda nice. Really, really nice.

Barbie's legs circle him, pulling him in.

He's almost light headed from the kissing when her hands grab his and push them under her sweater . . . Oh my.

He can't believe this is actually happening, maybe he's still asleep and this is the mother of all wet dreams, oh much better than he could have imagined. This is the real deal here in his arms, this is Malibu Barbie rubbing all over him and it is sure happening. He's rising manfully to the occasion and . . .

Then all of a sudden it isn't.

Barbie sits up and tugs her sweater down, suddenly modest.  Or maybe just awake. Dammit.

“Oh my god Jose, what are you doing?”

“Me?” Jose shrugs, lowering his eyes “I was just trying to wake you up. You're the one jumping me, girl.” he smiles his soft smile at her. “Not that I mind or anything.”

She sits up and looks at him. His big brown eyes look away, suddenly embarrassed. Cast downward, those gorgeous thick eyelashes veiling those bedroom eyes. “Oh my god,” she thinks, “he's blushing.” She doesn't have trouble buying his story because, Jesus, she's wet. She smiles; he is yummy. And she has thought about Jose, dreamt about him too. More than once.

And man she's ready for him. More than ready. He's a better kisser than she'd expected but. Sexy as the boy is, he is just not a hustler. Jose is hot, alright. But he's not going to set the world on fire. A hard worker, sure, but he's not going anywhere extraordinary. And he won't be so hot when he gets a pot belly, starts balding. He'll teach elementary school in some nowhere town, married with a bunch of kids, be a good dad, join the Lions, PTA, have a wife, couple of kids in soccer, the works. Great life for some girl.

Just not this girl. Seeing her cousin get hitched this weekend 'cause the silly twit got herself knocked up was bad enough. That is just not gonna happen to her. Bright lights, big city, glamour and glitz, that's the ticket.

“It's okay, Jose. Sorry, I didn't mean to, um, bother you.”

She glances down at his straining jeans then quickly looks away, her breathing shallow. So easy to scratch the itch, but she knows damn well Jose would expect her to be his woman. Which would mean she'd have to chuck her plans. No, no. no.

He nods. Looking over at her with those big dark eyes. Licks his lips, her turn to blush. He's not being subtle at all as he looks longingly at her. She better watch it or she'll be the one making babies. Uh uh. No way. No how. Not this girl.

“I gotta go.” She grabs her stuff and takes off without a backward glance.

Jose lays back and sighs. It was too good to be true.

Natasha, stands with hands planted on her hips, “I think it's just about perfect.”

Boris chuckles. “You can't be serious.”

But she is serious, staring up at the black metal statue. The horseman is mightily gripping the reigns of the rearing horse delicately balanced on its two rear legs. The statue's tail touches the concrete base making the third leg of the tripod, but it still looks precarious.

“She wants us to find a new way of looking at the world, a different point of view. This will be different.”

“Well,” Boris says, “Just how in hell do you think you're going to get up there?”

Natasha tilts her head and looks up at Boris, wearing a mischievous smile.

Boris holds both hands up in front of him, defensively. “Whoa there girl, You think I am going to help you get up on that ancient statue? I don't think so. I like it here at Christie and I don't really want to have to transfer out.”

“Aw Boris, don't be such a poop. I only need a boost.”

“Oh yeah? What happens if you wreck the thing, eh?”

“How am I gonna wreck it? It's made of metal for gods sake, and it's bolted to a concrete pedestal.”

“Look, it's balanced OK now, but the horse is only standing on two feet. You go up there you might unbalance the whole thing. So let me ask you, is it worth the risk?”