Winning is Everything (9 page)

13 

Tucked away in a small corner of the International section of the fairgrounds, all pagodas and baby Buddhas, the Thai Pavilion looked like the setting for a bus-and-truck tour of
The King and I.

Gary and Ron were already seated at a table on the outdoor patio when Ellenor arrived. Ron waved her over to the table, and when she got there he said, “You know Gary Sergeant, don’t you?”

“Of course,” said Ellenor, accepting Gary’s outstretched hand and wondering if they expected her to bend over and kiss the U. of Mich. ring on his finger.

“Well…here we are!” said Ron. “The Thai Pavilion. Seems like only yesterday we used to sit around the fireplace wondering whatever happened to old Siam.”

“We ordered the chicken already,” Gary told Ellenor. “Takes twenty-five minutes, so we figured we’d better.”

“Thank you,” said Ellenor, reaching for a piece of doughy bread. “I’m starved.”

Ron and Gary exchanged a knowing look.

A waiter arrived with three small portions of shredded-beef salad. “Ron also ordered the salad and the spiced yogurt and the dessert,” said Gary. “He thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” said Ellenor.

A waitress brought over three Thai beers and three chilled glass mugs and set them down on the table. “Also ordered the beer,” said Gary.

“So I see,” said Ellenor.

Ron handed Ellenor her napkin. “Well, I figured, a girl from Seattle; what’s she going to know from Asiatic cooking, right? Could be bad for international relations, having you order hamburgers and lemonade.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” said Ellenor with a smile.

“Personally,” said Gary, “I thought a fast hot dog down at the aqueduct sounded fine. But you know how fancy Ron is; insisted we take in someplace exotic.”

“I’m glad to be here,” said Ellenor, lifting her mug in a toast.

They drank their beers and dug into their fiery cold-meat salads.

Ron was watching Ellenor watching Gary, and Ellenor was watching Gary watching Ron, and Gary was watching Ron watching Ellenor, and so for a short while no one said anything.

Ellenor separated slivers of onions from hot peppers. When Gary looked over to her and smiled, she saw a warmth and kindness in his face that immediately won her over. She figured he was on no account a count, but just a nice guy, and she knew right then she wanted to take him under wing. Those lost-puppy-dog eyes, that innocent wanting-to-be-liked-smile, that all-too-obvious vulnerability won her over. He seemed—Ellenor realized—very much like herself.

Ron started gossiping about who was dating whom, who was no longer seeing whom, who was lusting after whom.

Gary toyed with his peppery salad, separating cilantro from tomato sections, and listened to Ron with at least half an ear. At the same time, he studied Ellenor, busy downing her own salad. He smiled and she smiled and he realized that he kind of liked her. She seemed warm, friendly, and not only interested, but genuinely
taken
by him. Perhaps Ron knew what he was doing, after all.

By the time the cayenne chicken arrived, Ellenor and Gary were making small talk. Ron was still covering pavilion gossip. By the time the chicken course was cleared and the mango ice cream was served, Gary and Ellenor were discussing in-depth feelings about their lives, their values, their political commitments, their favorite authors.

By the time the check arrived and Ron had finished corroborating all the figures, Gary and Ellenor had become friends. He asked if she would like to take in a movie with him later on in the week and she said she’d love to, and Ron smiled a grin of accomplishment and relief and considered opening a matchmaking service on the side.

Several evenings later, while Gary was getting dressed, preparing to go to Ellenor’s apartment, Ron was drilling him dry.

“Now, be sure
all
her roommates see you,” said Ron, standing behind Gary at the sink, watching as Gary shaved. “I mean all of ‘em; Mary and the Lindas and especially mouthtrap Marcy. By tomorrow it’ll be all around the pavilion that you and Ellenor are practically
engaged “

“Will you let me finish shaving, please?” asked Gary.

“Sure,” said Ron, sitting down on the rim of the bathtub. “And kiss her hello, whatever you do. Preferably on the lips. Once, short and sweet. Shows you’re not afraid of her. Girls like that.”

“I think I can handle myself,” said Gary, stroking the foam from his cheek with his Gillette.

“If you could handle yourself, I wouldn’t be sitting here on the edge of the tub counseling you.”

“Everything will be fine. If
you’ll
relax,
I’ll
calm down. We’re only going to a movie. It’s no flaming romance. We’re just friends.”

“Friends, shmends, who cares?” said Ron, jumping up and combing his hair. “All
I
want is for word to get out that you two are getting
very
chummy. What you do with the little woman is your affair, and believe me, I don’t especially envy you. What I care about is what people
think
you’re doing with each other.”

“Is this a date or an audition?” asked Gary.

“Life, young man, is an audition. Remember, kid. Women are the enemy; it’s up to us to win them over.”

“Oh, really?” Gary looked at Ron. “I was under the impression winning isn’t everything.”

“In that case,” snapped Ron, “you were under the wrong impression.”

14 

Gary and Ellenor stood in line for almost an hour at the Coronet Theater waiting to get in to see
A Hard Day’s Night.

After the Beatles film they strolled down to P. J. Clarke’s and waited thirty-five minutes for a table.

They ate hamburgers and sipped draft beer and talked about the film and about their roommates and about themselves.

“I’ve never really been completely comfortable around girls,” Gary confided to Ellenor. “I always feel like I should be performing, that if I’m just my plain old boring self, they won’t like me.”

“That’s foolish,” said Ellenor.

“I know it’s foolish,” said Gary, amazed at how easy it was for him to open up to her. “Still, it’s the way I react. What about you?”

“You mean me and men?” asked Ellenor. “I’m afraid it’s always been a neurotic cycle of rejection. I saw a therapist for a while after a particularly heartbreaking romance in Seattle, and it was this shrink’s feeling that since I initially doubt a fellow’s sincerity, figuring ‘I don’t like
me
very much, why should someone else?’ that I stay overweight to keep relationships from developing.”

“It’s all too confusing,” said Gary.

“You bet it is,” Ellenor agreed. “I understand the dynamics of my problem; I just can’t seem to conquer them. I’m always concerned I’m too overweight. So what do I do to make myself feel better? … Have something to eat! What about you?”

“What about me, what?” asked Gary. “Listen, lady, someday you’ll read all about it.”

“Will I?” asked Ellenor. “Where?”

“I don’t know.” Gary downed the last of his beer. “Stories, books. A writer mostly writes about what he knows, and I came to New York to write.”

“Did you?”

“Sure. Doesn’t everyone? You look at the inside of a book jacket at an author’s biography; nine times out of ten, you can bet it ends by saying so-and-so lives in New York City!”

“I bet you’re good,” said Ellenor, reaching across the table to hold Gary’s hand.

“Getting better all the time,” said Gary. “I finished my first manuscript last semester.”

“Good for you!”

“I brought it with me to New York, figuring I’d submit it to a few publishers; you know, get some reaction. It’s called
Babylon, Good-bye!
It’s about the end of the world.”

“How optimistic!” said Ellenor. “When can I read it?”

“Maybe when I get a few more copies made,” said Gary. “Right now I’ve only got the original. I’ve been saving up to get a photocopy or two.”

“Whatever for?” asked Ellenor. “Just give me the darn manuscript. I’ll run a few copies off for you on the machine in the office.”

Gary’s eyes lit up. “You’d do that for me?”

“Happily,” Ellenor stated without hesitation. “Besides, that’ll give me the opportunity to read it, let you know what I think.”

“Great!”

“I just know it must be good.” Ellenor smiled. “I just know it.”

“Hope you’re right,” said Gary, picking up the check.

Gary and Ellenor walked home along the East Rivera It was a moonlit night and tugboats were sounding their horns in the harbor. A trio of South American sailors, ashore for the night, sinking in whiskey, were holding each other up, singing bawdy songs over a park bench.

When Gary and Ellenor arrived at her apartment, she asked if he’d like to come in, and he said he would, perhaps for a fast drink of cold water.

They went upstairs and found the two Lindas sitting in front of the television, glued to Johnny Carson, their heads wired in giant rollers, their faces covered in white guck. One glimpse of Gary and both girls jumped up from the couch and dashed straight for the safety of their bedroom.

“I think we caught them unprepared,” said Ellenor.

“Apparently,” said Gary. “Should I leave?”

“No, no … come on in.” Ellenor closed the front door and led Gary into the living room.

“I’ll get you that drink of-water.”

She came back a minute later and handed the drink to Gary. He downed it in one gargantuan gulp, handed the glass back to Ellenor, and thanked her for a nice evening.

She told him she had had a real good time too, and then leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips, short and sincere, exactly the kiss Ron had instructed
him
to give
her.

“Hey!” Gary said with a smile. “That felt pretty good. Just wait till Ron hears we had a real kiss good night.”

“Ron?”

“Yeah … I’m sure he’s going to ask me how well I did with you.”

“But why?”

Gary raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Ron has taken it upon himself to turn me into a Romeo. He fancies himself a regular Henry Higgins.”

“Does he, now?” asked Ellenor, placing her arms around Gary’s neck. “Here…” she said, and brought her mouth directly in front of his. “This one’s for Ron,” Ellenor quickly kissed Gary on the lips. “And this one’s for you.” Ellenor kissed Gary again, this time with greater intensity and much more feeling. “How’s that?” she asked with a smile.

“If I wore glasses,” said Gary with a blush, “they’d be steaming up.”

“Good,” said Ellenor. “You have a good night, hon.”

“I already did,” said Gary. “See you tomorrow.”

15 

The following Thursday Ron convinced Gary to serve Ellenor dinner at the apartment rather than taking her out. Gary agreed but was soon sorry, as Ron seemed bent upon setting the scene for rape rather than seducion.

Gary bought candles, but Ron thought wax would be too “sensitive” and insisted on a small twenty-five-watt red bulb. Gary suggested flowers, daisies, but Ron said no, absolutely not, too fussy. Gary suggested cleaning up the place; Ron insisted they leave it cluttered, as is. Gary suggested steak Diane, but Ron wouldn’t budge past spaghetti with meatballs. Gary mentioned a tomato-sauce recipe from scratch, and Ron handed him a can of Ronzoni marinara sauce and told him to cut the fancy footwork.

“How do you feel about salt and pepper?” asked Gary.

“Be my guest,” said Ron, the Don Juan of Buffalo. “Just make sure the pepper isn’t freshly cracked.” Then he left the apartment.

At five minutes past eight that evening, Ellenor rang the doorbell. Gary, dressed in Bermuda shorts and University of Michigan Ski Team T-shirt, answered the door.

“Don’t you look cute,” said Ellenor, handing him a bouquet of fresh flowers.

“Thanks,” said Gary. “One of my roommates is also my private valet. He dressed me.”

“Some people have all the luck,” said Ellenor, sitting on the couch. “God, it’s hot outside.”

Gary sat down next to her. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure. Have you got any wine?”

“I wasn’t allowed to get wine,” said Gary.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, it’s not on the menu. My valet is also my personal chef. He planned tonight’s meal, so all complaints go to him.”

“Ron?”

“Ron!”

“I might’ve guessed. What are we eating?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs,” said Gary with a shrug.

“The perfect dish for eighty-nine-degree weather. Have you thought of firing your chef?”

“More often than you can imagine,” said Gary. “Hey, don’t move. I’ll get the cheddar crock and the crackers and the booze. We’re having Jack Daniel’s on the rocks with a drop of water. I wanted to shoot for mint juleps, but you-know-who wouldn’t hear of it.”

“I’m grateful just to be here,” said Ellenor. “Whatever you’ve planned will be more than appreciated.”

Gary patted Ellenor’s knee in gratitude, stood up, and went into the kitchen.

“Where’s Kip?” Ellenor called after him.

“Afternoon shift!” Gary yelled into the living room. “Doesn’t get off till eleven!”

“Well”—Ellenor plugged her finger into one of the larger holes in the couch and circled the stuffing—”I’m sure we’ll have enough fun on our own.”

“I sure hope so!” said Gary as he opened the refrigerator to remove the cheese, the crackers, the ice.

“If you have a needle and thread,” Ellenor called into the kitchen, “I can sew up some of your couch.”

“You mean you don’t like the holes?”said Gary, returning to the living room laden with the first course. “I’m kidding, of course. It’d be great if you’d sew up the whole apartment.”

“I’ll do what I can,” said Ellenor, looking around the room to see just how much of it was in need of repair.

“By the way …” said Gary, walking back into the living room with a couple of drinks. “That large pile of typing paper in that box on the dining table is my manuscript.”

“Really?” Ellenor asked with interest as she got up from the couch and walked over to take a look.

“It’s over three hundred pages long,” said Gary. “I hope that’ll be all right for you.”

“No problem,” said Ellenor, lifting the box. “I’ll just put this with my purse now, so I won’t forget it.”

Gary and Ellenor drank a couple of bourbons and ate cheddar on Ritz before Gary suggested they chuck the whole spaghetti dinner and head down the block to the local air-conditioned pub for hamburgers, fries, and a couple of beers.

Ellenor thought it a fine idea.

They walked down to Friday’s, and the place was packed, very swinging, very loud. As they finished their cheese-and-bacon burgers, Gary suggested they go back to his place after dinner. The air conditioner in his bedroom had recently been overhauled and they could cool off in front of that while deciding what they should do next.

Ellenor took Gary’s hand and squeezed it softly. “Hey,” she said to him. “Why don’t you just take me home? You don’t have to put on a show, believe me, relax … I’m on
your
side. We don’t really have to impress Ron, do we? Can’t we please be friends? I can’t tell you how much I’d like that.”

“Can I still have a kiss good night at the door?” Gary asked, smiling.

“I insist upon it!” Ellenor stated firmly. “And don’t worry about reporting back to Ron. I’ll take care of Henry Higgins.”