If I Should Fall: The Second Book of Geshichte Falls

LIFE AT SAINT ALBAN'S

CONTINUED

The next morning, when the wintertime light came dark and watery through the slats of Jimmy’s shads, Russell woke up erect, and his flannel boxers were sticking to him. Since he’d been sleeping with Jason this hadn’t happened, and it certainly had never happened away from home. Bothered, and mildly embarrassed, as he got up and dug around in his duffel bag for a washcloth and second pair of underwear, he wondered if Cameron and Linh felt this way about their periods.

The hallway of Abelard Hall was hot. The heat never went off, but Jimmy’s room was cold when Russell returned, and his cousin was in a ball in his bed in the corner of the room, huddled under one blanket. He must have given the rest of them to Russell. Russell worked with the old radiator under the window until he heard it whining and banging from somewhere below. He looked from his mattress to his cousin who grunted a snore, then took one of his blankets and placed it over Jimmy.

The small bookshelf that every room had only had Jimmy’s school books lying on it, some floppy disks and CDS and his lap top. There was an M&M dispenser shaped like a blue candy playing the trumpet, and when you cranked it’s arm, candy would come out—if you put candy in—which Russell, realized—Jimmy hadn’t. There was Jimmy’s old trumpet lying on the top of the small shelf. There was nothing on the wall except a huge poster of Fats Waller and a bulletin board with a few pictures. These must be his other cousins, Jimmy’s brothers and sister. He saw them from time to time. The one older than Jimmy was a priest now. There was a boy, Keith, that looked a lot like Russell, like his Laujinesse cousins back in Ohio, and like his Laujinesse cousins, Russell had never gotten to know him well, but thought he’d probably like him. There were lots of pictures of Keith or Jimmy with Keith.  Keith at his piano. That’s right, Keith played piano. And there was a white house in the middle of a city block, simple, porched with two dormer windows over the porch. And Russell was startled to his see his Grandfather Frank and his Grandmother Sara in a picture with these people, but then, of course, Jimmy was family.

Jimmy’s little alarm clock said that it was only six fifteen. Jimmy was asleep. Russell thought he would do the same.

“Russell,” Russell heard his cousin hiss in his ear, Jimmy’s spidery hand shaking him.

“Time to get up.”

“What time—” Russell yawned.

“Almost eight. I’d be late for class if I had one this week. We gotta get to breakfast.”

Jimmy was talking in an animated fashion the whole time he pulled on baggy jeans over his own flannel boxers and then pulled a tee shirt on and a sweater and started pulling a comb through his honey colored hair.

“Today they have the raisin donuts, and those are just like eating cake and they’ve got icing on them. They’re the best donuts in the world. And the eggs in Campbell Hall will actually taste like eggs.”

He stopped, turned around and said, “Should I even brush my teeth? I mean I’m just gonna eat anyway.”

“You could rinse your mouth out,” Russell suggested.

“Good idea,” Jimmy decided, giving his cousin the thumbs up and heading for the washroom.

When they were both dressed, Jimmy in a leather coat with an olive knit skull cap, the older boy tugged Russell’s mustard colored muffler.

“That’s really fucking cool,” he said.

“Why, thank you. Should we wake up Ross and Anigel?”

“We should, but Ross hates breakfast and he hates anyone knocking on his door before nine.”

Still as they walked past 301, Jimmy pummeled on the door, and as they headed down the stairwell beside Ross’s room they heard him mumbling, “Bastards.”

They hit the second floor, where the women lived, passed the door to the first floor where the nursing school was, and were headed out of the ground floor door when it opened with a flood of white light and cold air and Marianne Mahoney entered Abelard Hall. Russell’s throat tightened.

“Good morning,” she said to Russell, innocently. Then he said, “Good morning, Marianne.”

Jimmy grew formal.

“Good morning, Marianne. We’ve got to go. I’m showing Russell around. Let’s go Russell.”

Marianne frowned. “Fine,” she said, and Russell felt Jimmy’s hand in his back, steering him out the door. 

Outside of Abelard Hall, Jimmy walked so fast, past the radio station and under the shadow of Holy Name Hall, that Russell had to ask him to slow down.

“Sorry, Russell,” Jimmy said, trying to push some humor into his voice. “I guess I really wanted those donuts.”

This did not fit into Russell’s equation of sex. He wondered how much he could ask without giving too much away.

“I thought you liked her—Marianne.”

“What made you think that?”

At least Jimmy looked directly at Russell. It wasn’t like Ralph who would turn away and talk to the air.

“You all were flirting last night at the party. You know?”

Jimmy’s face looked visibly relieved when Russell only said that.

“Well, you know,” Jimmy said. “Drinks were consumed. It was a party.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Sometimes people do silly things at night and then they’re sorry they did ‘em the next day. Ya know? Well, maybe you don’t if you’re only sixteen.”

“Is that the way it always is?”

They were approaching a very large stone building and when Russell turned to his left he saw it overlooked the whole, frost covered quad of Saint Alban’s College.

“No,” said Jimmy, pleasantly. “Sometimes it doesn’t take till the next morning. Sometimes regret happens right away.”

The building they were now approaching had a double stairway leading to a great door, but beneath this was a staircase that led into the basement where bikes were leaned up against each other and Jimmy said, “Welcome to Campbell Hall, and welcome to the commissary,” which, seen through a great glass wall was in the basement, floored in white terrazzo and unlovely, but strung up with Christmas lights and trying its best.

“They’re up all year,” Jimmy told his cousin as he moved him through the line. “It’s decoration.”

The cafeteria was pretty empty and Jimmy said, “It’s pretty much like this in the mornings, but mainly during exam week. Breakfast is the only time I’m not afraid to come and eat alone. I hate eating by myself any other time. Don’t tell anyone, though.”

Jimmy pointed to a table in the corner of the glass walled cafeteria that looked out onto the lobby. Still, they didn’t see Macy coming until she screamed, “Bitches!!!” when she walked into the cafeteria followed by a dark haired girl.

“You look like you haven’t washed your hair in days,” Jimmy told Macy.

“Well, that’s because I haven’t.”

The shorter, dark haired girl was wearing a blue coat that Russell privately thought made her look like a junior Michelin woman, but she was cute and she held out her hand and said, “I’m Bernadette.”

“Bet you didn’t think they made those anymore,” Macy commented.

“How bout you shut the fuck and wash your stringy hair,” Bernadette suggested with no real malice. “Let’s get some food.”

“I’m Russell.”

“He’s our cousin,” Macy said, pulling a comb she’d apparently had on hand through her stringy hair.

“Sorry to hear that,” Bernadette apologized, then turned to Jimmy.     

“Morning, James,”

Jimmy wiped his hands and shook Bernadette’s hand out of tradition, “Hey Bernie. Didn’t expect to see you guys this morning.”

“It’s donut day,” she said as if that explained everything. She took off her coat and placed it in the chair beside Russell, and then she and Macy marched off to the commissary line.

“They’re nice,” Jimmy said, frankly. “Most of the girls on this campus are... hoes.”

He sounded a little bitter, and Russell gave his cousin such a look that Jimmy tacked on, “A situation that many times I have used to my advantage.”

“But you still don’t like it?”

“It’s hard to respect people like that is all,” Jimmy said. “Bernadette and my cousin—our cousin—they’re different.”

When the girls returned with food, Bernadette said, “You all really do look alike.”

“Yeah,” Macy barked a laugh. “It’s like we’re related.”

“No, I mean it,” said Bernadette.

“She’s right,” Jimmy said, turning to Russell. “Hold out your hand.”

Russell did so.

“You two both have the most spidery hands in the world,” Macy observed, “and you’re both lanky as hell. Except Russell’s going to be taller than you, Jimmy. He’s gonna look like my father.”

“Uncle Dan?” Jimmy said, as if Macy had another father.

“Isn’t he...?” Russell let the speculation hang.

“A criminal? Yeah,” Macy said, then bit into a doughnut and added, “But he’s a cute one.” She winked at Russell and kept on eating.

“Doesn’t he remind you of Keith?” Jimmy demanded.

Macy looked at Russell, squinting. “If you were blond, platinum blond, and dark skinned, you would look just like Keith Nespres. Can you play the piano?”

“A little.”

“Alright!” said Jimmy.

“Is it your poison?” Bernadette asked.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Macy said to her friend.

“Your instrument of choice?”

“Poison is your drink of choice, you stupid bitch.”

“Sorry, I don’t know about being drunk. I’m not Irish,” said Bernadette. “If I want an instrument to be poison, it’ll be poison.”

“Are you all like this all the time?” Russell asked.

“Yes,” Bernadette said.

“Bitch,” Macy said.

“Cunt,” Bernadette returned and took Macy’s juice and drank it.

“My poison’s guitar, then,” Russell said, wondering what Macy would do to her friend, and surprised when she did nothing.

Russell added, “And my voice, I guess.”

“You sing?”

“I try to. Write songs… sort of. I play piano alright.”

“I play trumpet,” said Jimmy. “Or I used to.”

“Now he just plays the field,” Macy said. “And I play the sax. I don’t sing.”

“She tries though,” Bernadette noted, and Macy rolled her eyes at her friend.

“And the Keith,” Macy said, “who we’ve been talking about, happens to play the piano. That’s his thing. He was born on it. It’s weird watching him play.”

“I kinda wish I knew him better.”

“I wish you did too,” said Jimmy. “I always thought you two were probably a lot alike. I’ll have to bring you to Maryland one summer.”

“And look,” Bernadette shouted so Ross could hear her. “Here comes our favorite Black friend! And the girl on his shoulder upping the attraction value of the caf by about thirty points must be the Anigel Reyes we’ve all heard so much about.”

Russell looked at Bernadette’s plate and said, “But you all are almost finished.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Bernadette said, “being in the caf isn’t about food. It’s about an experience.”

“What’s that mean?” Russell wondered.

“It means,” said Jimmy, “that we ain’t going anywhere, anytime soon.”

When Anigel had been introduced to everyone, then Ross felt it was time to point out the people who were entering the cafeteria.

“Now there’s Reg Coleman and Digory Willis.”

“Digory?” said Anigel.

Ross shrugged. “I didn’t name him. They’re on the football team.”

“I didn’t know you had a football team,” Anigel said.

“Well, I don’t think they know either,” said Macy. “They win a game a year. I think the only reason they still exist is to give the marching band a place to perform.”

“You’ll notice they all sit at that one table, right across from the baseball players,” said Ross. “And the baseball players live in Anselm Hall, right next door to the football players.”

“But they don’t speak to each other,” said Jimmy.

“Except for when they fight,” Macy amended.

“Now the baseball player walking in right now—the one with the tee shirt that reads in big black letters CONDOMS VERSUS CATHOLICS—is Billy Donofrio. He’s supposed to be really holy and all that and he’s a server at the Sunday morning masses, but in my opinion he’s an ass.”

“Most holy people are,” Ross said knowingly.

“He also belongs,” Jimmy added, “to the almost virgin club. He was a virgin until he got to college, then one night he got raped at a party—”

“Wait a minute,” said Anigel, putting a hand up.

“How the hell did a big ass man like that get raped? Was it by another man?”

“No it was the short ugly bitch walking in right now,” Bernadette informed Anigel.

“Well how?”

“I wish I knew how to rape a man,” Macy commented darkly and sipped her coffee.

“He didn’t get raped,” Jimmy said. “He got drunk and some chick fucked him. Wasn’t it in the lounge of Watt Hall?”

“Well maybe that’s a sort of rape,” Russell suggested.

“If that’s rape, I’ve been getting raped repeatedly since freshman year,” said Jimmy.

“Did you really have to say that?” Macy asked her older cousin, because she didn’t feel that her younger cousin needed to know what a slut Jimmy really was, at least not yet. During her first few weeks at Saint Alban’s the revelation of just how omnipresent Jimmy’s penis was in the female dorms had made her glad to have a different last name. She didn’t really care now, but she thought Russell might.

“And speaking of virgins,” Bernadette pointed to the new arrival at the cafeteria, “the slut in the halter top with the hair out of Flashdance and the gold lamé pants. You know she’s still a virgin?”

“Bullshit,” croaked Macy.

“That’s her story,” Bernadette replied, “and she stickin’ to it.”

Then she added, “I don’t believe it either.”

When the original food was gone, they got up for seconds. No one who entered the cafeteria was spared comment. When second helpings were gone it was time for coffee or tea and a cookie, or a piece of fruit and when that was gone, still more coffee. The caf really was an experience.

“Is it like this everyday?” Anigel asked Macy.

“No,” Macy shook her head. “Sometimes we stay here for a long time.”

“Do yawl know everybody’s business?”

“More or less,” said Macy, “though you’d be surprised to learn that they don’t know each others’. It’s only eight hundred people here, and they’re all out of the loop.”