I
walked into the Weeg computer center hoping to get some stuff printed out for
my lesson quickly, and then take off for a wedding in Des Moines. It was
Saturday morning at 7:30, and the place was already full of people. I was heading into one room to look for an
assistant because I couldn’t get the computer to recognize my floppy disk when
I heard him.
“James
Martin,” was all he said.
I didn’t know if I’d truly heard it
because it wasn’t like a real greeting. Just a name. I looked and I didn’t see anyone accept this
black guy dressed in a polo shirt and loafers with rolled up pant legs. Then I looked again.
“Kevin?!? Wow!!” I said with a
smile. When I shook his hand, I
remembered the soft, pudgy flesh that came from using had cream four times per day.
He had said he did this because black
people had a different kind of skin. Who
was I to argue? The only black people I had
ever been anywhere near were a couple kids several grades younger than me who
had gone to our school for two months when I was in fifth grade. His were the first male hands I had ever
touched what were not calloused.
Kevin played
it cool. He didn’t smile very big, and he didn’t even say that it was good to
see me. He just looked at me. He
probably didn’t know how I’d react. We’d
been roommates at Iowa State for only one semester, and we hadn’t gotten along
very well. It’s not that we got along poorly—we had plain roommate problems. I
thought he was a bit strange, but you know, people are strange. I’m sure he thought the same of me.
He had the unnerving habit of
staring right at you. It was like he was
daring you to be real, to tell him honestly what you were feeling about him.
This habit persisted till the present day. In reality, though, it turned out
that this can-you-be-real attitude was just the thing that made him intriguing.
Almost
immediately after I sat down, he gave me his parents’ phone number in
Bettendorf. I wasn’t sure why. I think
he wanted to make sure we wouldn’t lose touch.
I could see myself doing such a thing, too—when I want to let the person
know that they are important to me, to show that I trust them.
The first thing we did was format a
cover letter I was writing—he told me where to put the salutation, the closing,
the address, etc. He said he had a job at Unique Resume Systems in Davenport
(he gave me their address and phone
number, too), so I figured he was the ideal person to get advice from. As I reviewed
it later though, he had some pretty strange ideas. I had to change most
everything.
After
about an hour of chit chat and, Where you
been, brotha? he looked directly into my eyes and said, “Are you tortured?”
“What?
Ah…ba…I don’t know. What do you mean?”
He said,
“Ok. I’m going to be keeping score here.”
“What
is this? A test?”
He said,
“Are you happy?”
“Yeah,
I guess…”
Then he
said, “Catch a cloud for me will you? Catch a cloud.”
“What?!?
Kevin, what are you doing?”
He
starts counting, “One, two, three, four, five…” When he gets to five, he says,
“Ok. Catch a baby. Here, catch this
baby.”
So then
I did. I kind of put my hands out gently
and pretended to catch a baby.
He
says, “Ok. I’ll change your score.”
“Kevin,
I don’t care about my score.”
He told
me that he used those three questions to determine a person’s capacity for
honesty—if they were aware of their true feelings. On a Saturday morning in the Weeg computer
center, I was thinking, “Hmm, yeah, that’s cool. It’s kind of cool, it’s a little cool—well,
somewhat interesting.” I actually
thought those thoughts…that progression from cool to somewhat interesting. Even then I was weary of being swept into his
aura.
He
seemed to be the kind of guy who wants to get past all the bullshit that goes
on in society—all the bullshit about impressions and trying to look cool and NOT
talk about things—things like sex, and other stuff like that. I labeled him a
really honest guy. I was thinking, “Wow,
this guy is pretty cool. We can get along.” I was thinking that he would be
okay with talking about really important topics. He’d be okay talking about masturbation, talking
about real relationships with real feelings.
That was something I really admired.
…and I was thinking that he was feeling the same way about me—it was
like fate coming down or something. I know that sounds pretty dramatic—but I can’t
deny my feelings.
After 2
hours, the conversation had been going like a snowball going across a golf
course when we had a chance to take a breath. I knew I had the wedding in Des
Moines staring me in the face, but I didn’t want the relationship to end right
there. I didn’t want us to just say
goodbye and never see each other again.
“Where are you staying tonight? Do
you have somewhere to sleep?”
“No.”
“Well
you can stay at my house.” I wasn’t going to be there, so I thought he
could.
“…yes, ahm, you can stay at my
house.” I was trying to convince myself that this was a good idea, but right
after I said it, I started to doubt.
Here I was, asking this guy to stay at my place while I hadn’t asked any
of my housemates or the landlord. I was living in a fraternity house that had
been converted into a rooming house.
“James, don’t back out on
this.” He didn’t say it in a pleading
manner, more like someone who had similar offers in the past that went sour. Did
he have a history of making a super-pleasant first impression on people, and
then something went wrong? “Go with your first impulse,” he said. “Do what you
think is right.”
And I did think it was right. Heck,
my room was going to be open, so I’ll just let him stay there.
I was thinking that Kevin may be
just what I needed. He seemed to be a
person who goes straight for the feelings. I would get my feelings out and it
would be wonderful. I was thinking that
maybe I’d found that friend that everyone needs. Maybe with him, I’d be able to
cry. I had trouble crying and knowing my own feelings. I needed to understand myself better.
So we went back to my house, and I
told him the front door code. I went up
to my room, got my stuff, took my key off my chain and gave it to him. I was
gone. He was there. No problem. I had
instant trust in this guy. Why? Was it
because I was searching for a friend? Sometimes our truest real feelings get us
into trouble.
When I
returned from Des Moines at 1:00 on Sunday, Kevin wasn’t around, so I was
locked out of my house. We hadn’t
thought about that problem, so I wasn’t upset.
It would be just a little forced downtime—something I needed more of
anyway. The thing is, though, if it took
too long, we’d be in trouble because I had a heap of work to do. He showed up 15 minutes later, so all was
well.
“How ya
doin’?” I asked.
“Fine, all fine.” No smile, and he drew these words out like
one does when it might NOT be fine.
“What did you do last night? Any problems?”
“You didn’t tell me which food is
yours, but luckily, I found some.”
“Oh yeah?” He hadn’t asked if he
could eat my food, but I guess I didn’t care too much. When I told him he could stay at my house, I
thought that he would just crash there. I thought he would do whatever he was
doing in Iowa City all day and just sleep in my room. To tell the truth, I wasn’t even sure that I
would see him again.
What he actually did was sleep in
my room for 12 hours. I didn’t think
anyone could sleep for 12 hours. He said
he didn’t feel safe sometimes, and he could only sleep if he felt safe. It didn’t take much for me to understand that
he was telling that he felt safe at my place, and I felt good about that. I was glad that I could offer something to
someone who needed something.
“You know, Kevin, I’m going to a
dinner at 5:30. It’s sort of a church group—but I don’t think they are
affiliated with any specific church, and they aren’t pushy. If you think you
will still be in town, I’d like you to go with me.
“Yeah, I’ll go.”
“Okay then, I’ll see you at 5:15.
Now I have a big project so don’t bug me.”
“Okay, no problem. I have to go down to the computer center and
you can pick me up there.”
I
didn’t know it at the time, but that was when things started to become strange. That was about the last sensible conversation
we had.
At
5:15, I came down to find Kevin sitting at the kitchen table with Patrick, a
housemate. I saw that he had made a
peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of my stuff.
“Ok,
Kevin. I think I want to walk over to the dinner, and if we are walking, I
guess we need to go now.”
He
forced a smile onto his face and took on a snide attitude. I got the idea that
he was performing for Jeff as he said, “Well, James, I don’t want to take any
of your valuable time. Let’s just say
that we will meet again sometime when we both have time to talk.”
What?
Is he telling me that he’s ready to leave?
“Well,
no, Kevin,” I said confusedly, “I’m to a very good point on my lesson. I feel
like I got a lot done, and I’m going to leisurely walk for 15 minutes with you,
leisurely walk back—“
He
chimes in with, “—and then you’re going to go right back to work, right?”
“No I
didn’t say that. …and I’d really like
you to come along.”
He said
again that he doesn’t want to take up my time. I say again that he wouldn’t
be. I don’t understand how he can
construe this as taking up my time when he knows that I am going to this place
anyway. Eating is about the most social activity known to man.
“I want
you to come along. I want you to meet my
friends. I think you are a cool guy. I
want to be able to introduce you and say this cool guy is my friend.”
He
said, “Ok. I’ll go.”
About
30 seconds later, he said, “No I won’t go.”
He
asked, “Your car doesn’t work?”
“I does
work, but I’d rather walk, and if we are going to walk, we need to go now.”
“I’ll
drive you over in my car.”
“No…I
don’t want to do that. I just want to walk.”
I was getting a tad upset, and a
lot mystified at this point.
“Now, James, calm down, you are
going to have a heart attack. You’re too
uptight, just take it easy.” It were his
mannerisms that made me uneasy. He was
acting like a psychotherapist. He was
putting me in the ‘bad boy’ spot…like I was the one who was the one who was out
of line. He was acting like I was going crazy.
And he was right. I couldn’t understand why he was acting this way.
I felt like we were going around in
circles, so I walked over toward the door. “Kevin, are you going to go or
not?” He never did answer, so I turned.
He yelled, “James, are you mad at
me?”
I said, “Yes,” and walked out.
It was already 5:25, and when I go
outside, I saw the long walk ahead of me. I realized that since I was going by
myself, I could ride my bike. I turned
toward the house, and there was Kevin with his head sticking out the door. He
had a sweet smile on his face like I was coming back to him.
“Oh, James, I’m sorry. Everything
will be alright.”
I walked past him without saying
anything and went to my bike. In a plot element reminiscent of the Three
Stooges or something, my bike had a flat tire.
I got in my car and went to eat.
I got back to the house at 6:45 and
Kevin was still there.
Didn’t
he say he needed to go to the computer center?
Kevin looked up from the kitchen
table in a kind of sad puppy dog way. He averted his eyes and said, “Hi,
James.” I got the idea that he wanted to explain things, or have a long talk.
I just said, “Hi,” and went up to
my room. I didn’t want to revisit the
whole going-to-dinner scene, and I had work to do. I didn’t mean to be rude, but after all, he
knew what it was like to be a college student.
Sure, I had been thinking that he might be the friend I needed, but
there was still my life. In actuality, I felt that I still needed to maintain
some distance. Could I be sure that he was as interested in a friendship as I
was? And if he’s going to act like a lunatic, did I really need that shit?
At 9:00, Kevin came up to my
room. I had the place set up for
studying. It was a tiny room, barely enough for one person. I found some fairly clean boards without too
many nails in them from around the farm, and built a loft for the bed. Down
below, the desk was on the left side and the chest of drawers was on the right.
I had the computer on the desk and a single chair. I had just enough room to
sit on the chair and not hit the mattress with my head. The desk had a drawer
for pens, and a drawer for ‘stuff’. My books and notebooks were within reach. I
had to step into it, twist a bit, and kind of wiggle. It was cozy. When I was
in the chair, everything about it said “study.”
Kevin knocked apologetically,
opened the door, and stepped in. “Hi,
James. So…how we doin’?” He said it
slowly, and in the first person plural, as if he was talking to a mental
patient.
Without
looking up I said, “I’m alright. How are
you?”
“I’m
good. I’m good. Whatchadoin’?” Again, he
said this in a sing-songy way filled with false interest--like he was in some
kind of cartoon.
“Well,
I’m working on my lesson plan, like I’ve been doing all day.”
“I just
thought I’d come to see if you wanted to take a little break.”
I
thought for a minute and decided I probably could
take a break, and maybe even should take
a break. Hopefully after the break, I would come back to work with renewed
vigor.
“OK. Yeah, I guess I can take a break.” I turned my chair and faced him. “So what have you been doing today?”
“Just
hanging out with Jeff and Jenny, and stuff.”
“Oh,
yeah? You got to know Jeff, huh?” I said with polite interest.
“Yeah, we’re
good buds now. He told me about his girlfriend and how she’s coming up next
weekend. She’s from Bettendorf, too, you
know.”
“Oh,
yeah? Do you know her?” I said this as to show that I was listening.
“Ha,
ha, ha, no, James. Bettendorf is a bit
bigger than Newell.”
“You
remember I’m from Newell? I’m
impressed.”
“Well
you, ah, told me about it today. It was
when I asked about that Greg Johnson guy. You know, our other roommate?”
“Oh,
yeah, that’s right. …You know he’s
married.”
“Really? Well, I always thought that he would get
married early.”
“Yep.
Married Lucy, his first and only college girlfriend.”
“You
know, James, this is how I remember us.
We would have these little chats at night when you would take a break
from work and we’d share stories. You
know what? I think we have really begun
something here. I think I’ve found a
friend. Us running into each other yesterday was like fate. Now I’ve found a friend. It’s wonderful. You
know these nine years have gone by really fast.
Now I think we can be real friends.”
“Yeah,
it’s pretty cool,” I answered. I was
amazed that he was saying back to me the very words that I had thought the day
before. But something wasn’t right. For two people to have a successful
relationship they need to have equal interest. I wasn’t sure if we were now walking
at the same pace.
My mountain of work climbed back
into my line of sight. “This is great,
Kevin, but just like when we were at Iowa State, I have some work to do.”
“Ok,”
he said, and zipped right out. There was no transition between chatting about
destiny and skipping out the door. I didn’t know if he was offended, or maybe he
didn’t want me to be offended, or what, but it was a strange exit. Whatever it
was, I didn’t have time to worry because I truly had a lot of work to do. I was
glad the whole dinner thing seemed to have blown over.
Later in the evening, I went
downstairs to get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Kevin was sitting at the table with Jeff and
Patrick. Kevin was sticking his nose into
Patrick’s stuff.
“Hey, Patrick, what do you got for
me down there? You got some peas, you
got some macaroni?”
“Don’t give him anything, Patrick,
he’s full of bullshit,” I said. “What’s up here, Kevin? I don’t mind you eating
my food, but what’s with asking everyone about their food, too?”
To his credit, Kevin ignored my
stupidly insensitive question. Then he
jumped up and said to Patrick and Jeff, “Hey guys, watch this!” He was talking like a game show host now.
Nothing would dissuade him, always wearing a smile.
“James, come on over here,” he says
and grabs my hand. Then he puffs his
chest out as if he was going to a professional wrestling super-mania smack
down. I wasn’t sure where this was
headed, but I played along and thrust my own chest out. He stepped toward me and we butted chests.
To Patrick and Jeff, he says, “This
is what a real masculine relationship is like.”
“Yeah, right, Kevin,” I said, and
went back upstairs.
All the signs were there. I don’t understand how I could have been so
blind to what is so clear in the all too revealing perspective of
hindsight.
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