The Lesson Plan by G.J. Prager - HTML preview

Chapter 25

I called Maria at seven. It was a wake-up call, like I figured. She was still excited about going, so I told her to be outside by nine. I then called the nearest rent-a-car joint, luckily these guys were opened at the cock’s crow, and made like I needed some wheels in a hurry. The proprietor politely obliged; I guess he didn’t want me calling up the next guy in the phone book. He even had someone come by and pick me up.

When I got there, the prices were steep. The manager explained that one-way drop-offs were expensive. So I pulled out of the lot in a small, cramped Ford Escort, picked up Homer and the rest of my gear, and was finally on my way.

I stopped by a local Starbucks for some java to get the day started. I checked the board for a very large coffee size. It was called “Venti.” I filed that in a corner of my brain as I sized up the pastry counter. I was soon lost in thought trying to settle on a muffin, and before I knew it I was first in line.

“Good morning. What will it be?” She seemed pleasant enough.

“What do you call that over there?” I pointed to a large brown muffin, but she couldn’t see it from her end.

“Which one?”

“The muffin with the nuts on it.”

“There are a few of them with nuts. Do you want the banana date muffin?”

“No, not that. I think it’s the one with the walnuts.”

“There’s the zucchini walnut and the apple or peach walnut.”

“I’m not sure.” I decided I wasn’t in the mood for nuts. “Actually, I’d like a carrot muffin.”

“We don’t have carrot muffins.” She was losing her smile.

“How about that one over there.” I pointed to a large yellowish muffin right up at the counter window.

“The apple muffin?” She was moving a lot of muffins around with a pair of food pliers.

“I’m not sure,” I replied.

“Is it the peach walnut?”

“No, there are no nuts on it. I’m not sure what it is.”

“What will it be, sir?” she said pointedly. The real deal was piercing through the morning niceties.

“Uh...let’s see. I’ll have the blueberry muffin.”

“Is that what you want?” She looked back at me, just to make sure.

“Yeah...I suppose.” I glanced down the line of java junkies behind me. They had murder in their eyes.

With food pliers in hand, she picked up the muffin and shoved it into a paper bag, attitude and all. “Will you have coffee with that, sir?” she was trying to keep a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll have the Grande....I mean the Venti.” I thanked heaven and hell I’d caught sight of that sign. The guy next to me was just about reaching for a shiv.

She turned and poured me a big cup of coffee from a large stainless steel cauldron. The line was very restless now.

It was the usual morning crowd, kids straight out of college and a few older business types in monkey suits, all trying to get to their desk jobs on time. But I was oblivious to it all. I figured what’s a few irate customers compared to the hot water I was already in. I picked up the muffin and container of coffee, smiled at the gal behind the counter, and I even said “Have a nice day.” When I got back to the car I was in a pretty good mood as I set off to pick up Maria.

She was standing out in front just like I told her to, holding a large shoulder bag and looking like she was waiting for a bus to take her to school. It got me to ruminating about that lecherous gym teacher’s after-school exploits, and for a moment I felt guilty about taking her along. But if taking this hot tamale with me five hundred miles from home wasn’t something to rejoice about, then I was nothing but a hopeless malcontent, end of story.

“Where do you want me to put my bag, Mr. Klayman?”

“I’ll take it, Maria.”

“Is that your dog?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s Homer.” He was sitting up on the back seat, watching me intently as I went to load the trunk.

“She’s coming too?”

“He always comes along with me,” I said, emphasizing his gender.

“You’re trippin’, Mr. Klayman.” I opened the trunk and placed her meager belongings next to mine.

“Why do you say that, Maria?”

“Dogs don’t like long car trips. They like staying home better.”

“When you get attached to your pet you can’t leave them alone for too long. Besides, taking him along is cheaper than finding a dogsitter. You know what they charge just to come around to your house and walk him?”

“No.”

We got back in the car and I started the engine. “A lot of money. They charge lots of dinero. Besides, I like having a companion when I go on long trips, and having two companions is even better.”

“You’re not comparing me to your dog, Mr. Klayman?”

“No, of course not. You’re pretty funny, you know that? I knew you had a sense of humor. I saw it in the classroom.” We were getting on the freeway.

“I’m very funny sometimes, but I could be very sad, too. It just depends who I’m with and how they treat me.”

“Absolutely. We react to the way people project their own feelings onto us. It wouldn’t be natural not to.” That was a little over her head, so I toned it down a bit. “What I mean to say, Maria, is that people can mess you up for no good reason, and you need to know how to deal with it.”

“I can relate, all right,” she replied. We coasted along with little traffic as we discussed the challenges of adolescence and our favorite flavors of ice cream. Though Flagstaff Chuck and the two mobsters were never far from my mind, I was determined to have a good time. I just put my worries on the back burner and looked at her beautiful profile.

We passed through a thunderstorm somewhere on the Arizona border. It reached all the way across the horizon, and Maria turned white as a ghost. But she’d brought her Walkman along, which kept her occupied most of the way, listening to whatever teens listen to these days, with a Latin twist, no doubt. We were quite a pair, ensconced in our own little worlds, not trying to convert each other to our own narrow ways of thinking. It certainly made the driving easier.

With only a few stops for gas and take-out, we made good time, but it was more work than I ever wanted to do again. The light was disappearing fast and I couldn’t read the signs very well, and I suddenly realized I didn’t have a clue where to find a place to stay.

I gave up looking and pulled into a dreary motel right out of a horror movie, shelling out more than I ever wanted to for the little dump. But we were now Mr. and Mrs. Jones, and it gave me a tingle as I scribbled the names on the guest roster. I began feeling like I was in some Hitchcock movie. I just hoped it wouldn’t end like one.

We got a pretty clean room with a nice, comfy bed and all the accouterments of a Motel Six. Homer had to stay in the car for the night, though. I thought it best to keep him on a low profile till we got out of town; the police had a pretty good description of him. Maria went to the bathroom to wash up and stayed for a while. I drew down the blinds, kept the lights low and the mood warm, and waited for her return. When she finally came out, she looked tired and wore a cool distance in her eyes.

“How are you feeling, Maria?”

“I’m okay.”

“You must be tired from the long ride.”

“I’ll be okay.” I was sitting on a chair facing her, while she sat uncomfortably on the bed.

“I know you might be thinking it’s a strange situation to be in, and I respect your feelings, Maria.”

“Yeah, mister. It feels funny, you know?”

“It does?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if you want to be alone…”

“I do, mister.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Then I guess I can take some bedding down and sleep on the floor. The carpet’s thick enough.”

“It’s okay with you? You don’t mind?” I couldn’t believe how deeply her words cut through. I was being polite, not truthful.

“No, I don’t mind. Not at all.” I forced the words out with great reluctance. But I suppose she knew more about men then I could imagine. I finally pulled off some bedding and made a little cove for myself against the wall.

Twenty minutes later I was still wide-eyed and in a snit. I felt humiliated lying on the floor watching her sleep, I even contemplated getting in the car with Homer. At least he wouldn’t mind. A small table lamp next to the bed was still on for some reason, throwing its light around the room and making it even harder for me to get to sleep.

“Do you need that little light on?” I couldn’t conceal my agitation any longer.

“Do you mind, mister?”

“Sort of.”

“I can’t sleep without it.”

“Keep it on, then.” I was feeling more and more like a battered husband. She had gotten under the covers with her clothes on and settled herself on the far side of the bed, at the very edge. If she was trying to make it clear she didn’t want me on there with her, she was doing a damn good job of it.

I tried counting sheep, playing tunes in my head, and planning the next day’s itinerary, but I was still bug-eyed while she lay alone on that bed in dreamland.

The situation couldn’t have been worse. After all, I was a man with needs, sexual and otherwise. But it looked like I was going to be watching the ceiling bugs crawl around all night. I kept wondering how her cholo boyfriends would have fared by now.

She suddenly started jerking from side to side like she wasn’t sleeping well. I couldn’t believe my luck. I sensed an opportunity and waited till she rolled over to my side and turned to face me. Her eyes were still closed, but she seemed wide awake behind the lids.

I broke the silence. “Can’t sleep?”

“No.” She opened her eyes and looked me straight in the face.

“Me, neither.” I didn’t say another word. I got up, plopped myself on the bed and drew myself under the covers with her. She was stark naked. I still couldn’t figure where her clothes went, but it was a beautiful surprise nonetheless. I didn’t say a word. I just saddled in there and went about getting what I wanted without asking for it. She seemed pretty familiar with that kind of handling, so I just followed the directions.

She made all the right moves but still left me at the controls, while my testosterone fueled our little workout. It was a pleasure to be fondling such young flesh. Her skin was soft and smooth, her breasts bouncy and light. She was full of youthful vigor, not unlike a brand new car hitting the road for the first time. The smell of fresh leather and polished hardwood and driving around in all that shiny aluminum would give anyone a thrill. So did running my fingers around her luscious form. The fruit tastes better right off the tree, they say, and I was sitting smack in the middle of the orchard.

We made love for quite some time. I had Maria in my thrall, she just melted in my arms when I held her close. I handled her like I was fashioning a piece of fine sculpture, molding her body and her passions together in the ways I saw fit. When it was all over, I sunk my head into a couple of fluffy pillows and went right to sleep. I was on cloud nine and figuring to stay for a while.