Helen is woken up by Gretchen coming home
The squeak of the door opening woke Helen. Her roommate Gretchen was home. That quarter Jessica had the single; not that it was doing her much good. She hadn’t dated anyone since Ellery the previous summer, and seemed a bit bummed about it.
Helen used to miss having her own room because it made romping with Todd so much more convenient-in her own bed, with at least somewhat clean sheets, instead of at Todd’s or some other random location. Helen remembered her first fall quarter in that situation with pleasure-so much romping with Todd, the pleasure of doing it at her place with no inconvenience. The second hadn’t been quite as thrilling-sex with Todd had come to seem more like a chore than a pleasure, but she liked the nights alone with no Todd and no worries about when to go to bed, and whether she would wake Jessica up.
Helen heard the quick whispered "shit" as Gretchen’s foot hit the corner of her bed. Helen rolled over, put her covers over her head. Now she just missed having her privacy. She, Jessica and Lana had always gone to bed around the same time, or Helen had gone to bed before either of them, so it hadn’t been so bad. Gretchen, though, was prone to late nights at the Cyclops Eye and other dive bars, drinking with her weasel-faced and snake-hearted boyfriend, Bill. Helen lived in dread of his visits, of having to hear his snide, derisive tone directed at their house, UC Santa Zita and especially Gretchen. Worse, Bill’s friend Frank frequently tagged along-a tremendous, brutish oaf who had conceived an infatuation with Helen that would have been amusingly ludicrous if he wasn't so terrifyingly large and lacking in self-control.
Helen tried to put something else in her mind other than Frank’s huge, round face leering down at her, but all she could see was the pile of mail on the coffee table, and the unopened bill on the bottom of it. Maybe she should call her mother and ask for help. No, shine. She hadn’t spoken to her mother since right after the quarter started. Her mother had troubles of her own, like an alcoholic ex-boyfriend whom she had been trying to get the local police to enforce a restraining order against him-difficult since the ex-boyfriend and the sheriff were drinking buddies. There was also lingering resentment over Helen's having spent Christmas with her father. Her mom had been pissy about that, which always drove Helen crazy. One Christmas with her father; the first one with him since she had been a small girl. Helen knew that her father was making an effort; and a free trip to San Diego was a free trip to San Diego. The weather there sure beat Hamilton, Montana. The bitterness that remained between her parents amazed Helen, and she hoped she never saw anything like it in her or any of her friends.
A soft wheezing from the direction of Gretchen’s bed told Helen she was already asleep. Even when she was drunk, Gretchen didn't snore-thank goodness for small favors. Jealous that Gretchen had already reached the oblivion she was desperate for, Helen searched her mind for something pleasant to think about it, something to look forward to.
Drawing a blank, Helen turned over again and tried to think of nothing. Nothing at all. Just like the characters in that vapid novel by Brad Eastman Aaronson, surrounded by sports cars, coke and too much money. Santa Zita was like the LA in Nothing At All, only with redwoods instead of palm trees and Milwaukee's Best instead of cocaine-and too little money instead of too much. Helen felt herself smile. That was such a Tim idea. She missed him. They needed to hang out. She was going to have to make the first move with him. She had been pissed at him for not calling her back when she called him the day after Todd dumped her, to tell him the news and get the sympathy she was entitled to. Maybe she should apologize to him, though he didn't really deserve it. She had to do something.
Helen used to miss having her own room because it made romping with Todd so much more convenient-in her own bed, with at least somewhat clean sheets, instead of at Todd’s or some other random location. Helen remembered her first fall quarter in that situation with pleasure-so much romping with Todd, the pleasure of doing it at her place with no inconvenience. The second hadn’t been quite as thrilling-sex with Todd had come to seem more like a chore than a pleasure, but she liked the nights alone with no Todd and no worries about when to go to bed, and whether she would wake Jessica up.
Helen heard the quick whispered "shit" as Gretchen’s foot hit the corner of her bed. Helen rolled over, put her covers over her head. Now she just missed having her privacy. She, Jessica and Lana had always gone to bed around the same time, or Helen had gone to bed before either of them, so it hadn’t been so bad. Gretchen, though, was prone to late nights at the Cyclops Eye and other dive bars, drinking with her weasel-faced and snake-hearted boyfriend, Bill. Helen lived in dread of his visits, of having to hear his snide, derisive tone directed at their house, UC Santa Zita and especially Gretchen. Worse, Bill’s friend Frank frequently tagged along-a tremendous, brutish oaf who had conceived an infatuation with Helen that would have been amusingly ludicrous if he wasn't so terrifyingly large and lacking in self-control.
Helen tried to put something else in her mind other than Frank’s huge, round face leering down at her, but all she could see was the pile of mail on the coffee table, and the unopened bill on the bottom of it. Maybe she should call her mother and ask for help. No, shine. She hadn’t spoken to her mother since right after the quarter started. Her mother had troubles of her own, like an alcoholic ex-boyfriend whom she had been trying to get the local police to enforce a restraining order against him-difficult since the ex-boyfriend and the sheriff were drinking buddies. There was also lingering resentment over Helen's having spent Christmas with her father. Her mom had been pissy about that, which always drove Helen crazy. One Christmas with her father; the first one with him since she had been a small girl. Helen knew that her father was making an effort; and a free trip to San Diego was a free trip to San Diego. The weather there sure beat Hamilton, Montana. The bitterness that remained between her parents amazed Helen, and she hoped she never saw anything like it in her or any of her friends.
A soft wheezing from the direction of Gretchen’s bed told Helen she was already asleep. Even when she was drunk, Gretchen didn't snore-thank goodness for small favors. Jealous that Gretchen had already reached the oblivion she was desperate for, Helen searched her mind for something pleasant to think about it, something to look forward to.
Drawing a blank, Helen turned over again and tried to think of nothing. Nothing at all. Just like the characters in that vapid novel by Brad Eastman Aaronson, surrounded by sports cars, coke and too much money. Santa Zita was like the LA in Nothing At All, only with redwoods instead of palm trees and Milwaukee's Best instead of cocaine-and too little money instead of too much. Helen felt herself smile. That was such a Tim idea. She missed him. They needed to hang out. She was going to have to make the first move with him. She had been pissed at him for not calling her back when she called him the day after Todd dumped her, to tell him the news and get the sympathy she was entitled to. Maybe she should apologize to him, though he didn't really deserve it. She had to do something.
Works
Recent Writing
- 1989 A Novel: Tim and April walk to the liquor store
- Volume III: Helen meets Roxy for coffee at the Fremont College coffee shop
- Volume III: Tim walks back from Contemporary American Fiction
- Volume III: Helen conducts section, can’t prevent Michael from being dissed
- Volume III: Helen conducts section (HSZ version)