Chapter 11
Dark-green palm branches carelessly whipped from east to west as if engaged in some type of romantic tango with the ever-present, warm ocean breeze. While on the edge of Miami’s western horizon, a bold orange-yellow sun was slowly sinking beneath the bluish-green ocean’s surface - causing all nearby surrounding waves to appear to be violently boiling.
Overhead, an individual seagull loudly squawked in the salt-filled blue skies above Florida International University’s campus. Yet, none of the students below seemed to notice. They appeared to be too busy scurrying down the sidewalk – presumably toward a previously arranged date. Or perhaps, due to their tardiness, they were having to rush toward one of the campus’ multistory dorms in order to get ready for one.
“Hey, Chad,” Mike hollered, bursting into their shared flamingo-pink dorm room like a bucking Brahma bull entering a large wooden rodeo ring the instant the starting bell resounded.
No answer. And, to his surprise, he soon discovered that his roommate wasn't in any of his usual locales - either lying on his bed watching TV, sitting at their desk - studying, or in the dorm's main hallway - chatting up a friend on the phone.
“Hmm. That’s odd, it’s a Friday evening and Chad’s not around. … He usually doesn’t take off without letting me know.”
A sudden streaming echo of a running shower then caught Mike’s attention, and it seemed to be coming from the bathroom centrally located between their room and the one adjacent.
Upon hearing it, Mike's lips instantly formed a mischievous grin as the proverbial incandescent bulb residing slightly above his ears suddenly flashed with what seemed to be a great idea regarding how he could, once again, deliberately annoy his roommate.
“Hey Chad. You in there?” he yelled, while repeatedly pounding the closed door. “Do you need me to call 9-1-1?”
For a second, Mike’s hollering was only met with a deafening silence.
“Hell no, you moron,” Chad’s voice said in a raised tone. “Why should you call 9-1-1? Have you heard me yelling for help or screaming out in pain?”
Mike grinned from ear-to-ear. “No, but you still could have been in trouble. How do I know you haven't had a heart attack or have passed out for some reason? Not to mention, perhaps Steve or Jim could have.”
Chad frowned as he re-soaped his wash rag and proceeded to wash his back. “Isn’t it obvious that neither one of our neighbors would be showering now since they told us they were leaving this afternoon to spend the weekend at Universal Studios?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“There is no guessing about it, Mike. You know I’m right. So why are you bugging me? What’s so important it couldn’t wait until I was done?”
Mike hesitated as he glanced around the twelve by twenty-foot dorm room the two of them shared.
Above the bed nearest the hallway, a large orange and aqua green poster showed an oversize porpoise wearing a football helmet and carrying a football – letting anyone who might enter the room know that Mike supported the Miami Dolphins. On the opposite wall, a poster-size electronic viewer displayed a time-lapse photo of a single white rose slowing blooming within a crystal vase. It’s background, continually changed colors, once a minute.
“I wanted to know if you have plans for tonight,” Mike hollered toward the still-closed door. “I was thinking we could stop by Sal’s for a pizza, then come back and play a round of “Clash of the BattleStars.””
The sound of running water abruptly stopped. And soon afterwards, Chad opened the off-white wooden door and entered inside wearing a maroon colored bath towel around his mid-section.
“I can’t,” he said, yanking open the second drawer of the dresser they shared and pulling out a pair of black cotton boxers. “I’ve got a date. Maria and I made plans to watch “Love Story” tonight at the student center.”
Mike looked at his roommate and scowled, while Chad grabbed a pair of denim jeans and a plaid shirt out of his closet.
“Going out with Maria, again?” Mike said, narrowing his eyes as he took a seat on the edge of his bed. “How in the devil am I ever going to get a chance to date her if the two of you keep constantly hooking up? Are you two starting to get serious or something?”
Chad turned toward his friend, and gave him a warm smile. “Serious? You must be joking.”
“No. I’m not, Chad,” Mike said with a frown. “t seems like the two of you go out almost every night, and it’s not right. You know from the first day we saw her that I liked her. But we never get a chance to hook up because every time I ask her out, she’s tells me she has already made plans to go with you.”
Chad gazed downward toward the front of his pants and zipped his zipper. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We have been getting together a lot, Mike. But contré to what you’re thinking. There really isn’t anything serious going on between us. We’re just a couple of friends who like to study together.”
“Study together?” Mike briefly glanced toward the ceiling. “What in the world can you two possibly be studying together? You’re a Music major, and she’s studying Business.”
Chad chuckled as he buttoned his shirt. “Mike. Mike. Mike. What am I going to do with you? Haven’t you ever heard of basic courses like Math and English? We all have to take them.”
“Of course, I’ve heard of Math and English. Why do you ask? Are the two of you in any of the same classes?”
Chad nodded.
“Great. Isn’t that just great,” Mike said, thrusting his arms upward. “If the two of you are in the same class, I’m never going to get a chance to go out with her. And that’s just not fair. She’s truly a real babe, and you don’t even care.”
Chad stuck his feet into a pair of black-and-white Converses. “Mike, I hate to tell you, but you’re definitely wrong on that account. I do care about Maria’s appearance. But...”
“You do?” Mike interrupted before Chad could finish. “You're surely not going to tell me you think Maria’s a babe, too. Are you?”
“No, I’m not,” Chad said, rising to his feet. “I do appreciate Maria’s good looks, but there’s no way I’d ever call her a babe.”
Mike appeared to be puzzled. “You wouldn’t?”
“No,” Chad answered. “You see … Unlike you, Mike. I’ve got more respect for girls than to use such a label.”
Mike growled and forcefully slammed his fist into the bedcover. “Respect? What do you mean respect? I’ve got respect for women. Don’t you ever say I don’t respect women, Chad.”
Chad folded his arms in front of his chest, and gave his roommate a few moments to calm himself. “Okay. Okay. Maybe you do respect women. I was wrong, I shouldn’t have said that. Okay?”
Mike replied by giving him a hard stare. “Well. Okay. But this still doesn’t address the problem that I can’t get a date with Maria. And it’s all your fault.”
“My fault?” Chad tried not to laugh as he pointed his curled forefinger toward his chest. “How can your not getting a date with Maria be my fault?”
“You keep going out with her every night," Mike said with a grimace. "That’s why it’s your fault. How can I ever date her if you keep seeing her all the time?”
Chad sighed and glanced at his watch. It was getting close to 8, and he needed to be leaving.
“No. That’s not the problem,” he said, before pausing. “That’s far from being the reason Maria doesn’t go out with you.”
“It is? Then tell me. Why does she keep turning me down?”
Chad did. And while doing so, if it could have been humanly possible to see steam escaping from a person’s ears, anyone looking past Mike’s reddened cheeks, definitely would have.