Michael overhears Tim in the bathroom
The fog that had covered the city and entered the valleys of the coast mountains, and hidden the steeply slanted metallic roof of the dining hall from the tower, remained until ten o'clock in the morning.
Michael woke early, went to breakfast just as the dining hall was opening and returned to study in his room, by the white, diffuse light coming through the window. Lack of sleep made him tired and sore. The wild and inchoate nightmares of the night before had exhausted his body when he should have been resting for the day ahead.
About five minutes earlier, an insistent rhythmic pulse had started pounding through the wall. He tried to ignore it and continue studying, but the pulse continued, resounding and rebounding. It was his neighbor's stereo, he knew, but he had no idea what the name of the music was. He needed to use the bathroom.
As Michael walked past the room containing the stereo, he listened for a few moments and discerned additional sounds embedded in the music; random and senseless bits of human speech. He shook his head, not understanding the words and not wanting to. He passed a row of empty beer bottles lined against the wall and entered the bathroom. He heard the loud hum of the room's ventilation. Michael went into a stall, unzipping his soft black pants. He heard two of his male hall-mates talking at the sinks.
“How low can you go?” one of them asked.
The other voice laughed in response. Michael recognized the two voices as belonging to Abraham Tim, a junior who had one of the single rooms on the hall. Michael knew him as tall, thin and a literature student, from a conversation he had once overheard between Tim, Andy, and Amy, one of the girls who lived on the hall.
“Shall we ask Todd?” said Tim. To Michael's ears, Tim's voice sounded rough and unsure, as if he hadn't used it in a while. Michael decided that Tim, like many of the people on the hall, was a late sleeper.
“I don't think so,” Philip said.
Tim grunted and began a making a loud, muffled, buzz. Michael realized he was brushing his teeth with a regular toothbrush, but making the sound of an electric one as he did so. Michael stopped urinating, but stood without closing his pants, listening to his hall-mates. He heard Tim speaking again:
“The weird thing is, Todd accepts everything Chuck D says as truth. Even when he says that people like Todd are evil and should be overthrown.”
“Yeah, you're right,” Philip said, but he sounded unsure.
“Then again, maybe Todd's right and all the rest of us are wrong about it. What's truth, anyway?”
Tim spat in the sink.
“I don't know,” said Philip, and he no longer sounded interested in the conversation.
[What does Michael think about truth? Would he be repelled by Tim’s words? Think about Pontius Pilate? Religious reference might attract Michael.]
Michael exited the stall. Briefly, Philip and Tim turned to look at him, then looked back at each other. Michael hurried out of the bathroom, feeling that they both knew he was curious about Todd, and what was happening on the hall. All fall quarter he had ignored his hall-mates the way he had set himself apart in high school, feeling the gulf between himself and them, the uselessness of contact with others of his age. Now he wanted to understand them.
Back in his room, Michael looked at the hands of the clock. It was ten o'clock. One hour to section. One hour until he saw Helen again. He lowered his gaze and looked along the topmost shelf of his bookcase. With his eye he picked out Goethe's Faust, E. M. Forster's Howards End and The Iliad. He looked back at his translation of Goethe's Faust.
When Michael had first glanced at the books, he had considered finding a quote which explained he and Helen, and read it for inspiration. He opened Faust and leafed through the pages of verse. What did Goethe write about the Queen of Troy, when Mephistopheles had conjured her for Faust's entertainment? Helen of Troy. Helen Zachary. Helen Troy. Helen of Santa Zita. He compared the names and closed the book.
Michael picked up his towel and resigned himself to a shower. He never liked washing himself-it bored him to stand under water for fifteen minutes, and the sight of his naked body in the shower room mirror never gave him pleasure or satisfaction. Nevertheless, it had to be done.
Michael woke early, went to breakfast just as the dining hall was opening and returned to study in his room, by the white, diffuse light coming through the window. Lack of sleep made him tired and sore. The wild and inchoate nightmares of the night before had exhausted his body when he should have been resting for the day ahead.
About five minutes earlier, an insistent rhythmic pulse had started pounding through the wall. He tried to ignore it and continue studying, but the pulse continued, resounding and rebounding. It was his neighbor's stereo, he knew, but he had no idea what the name of the music was. He needed to use the bathroom.
As Michael walked past the room containing the stereo, he listened for a few moments and discerned additional sounds embedded in the music; random and senseless bits of human speech. He shook his head, not understanding the words and not wanting to. He passed a row of empty beer bottles lined against the wall and entered the bathroom. He heard the loud hum of the room's ventilation. Michael went into a stall, unzipping his soft black pants. He heard two of his male hall-mates talking at the sinks.
“How low can you go?” one of them asked.
The other voice laughed in response. Michael recognized the two voices as belonging to Abraham Tim, a junior who had one of the single rooms on the hall. Michael knew him as tall, thin and a literature student, from a conversation he had once overheard between Tim, Andy, and Amy, one of the girls who lived on the hall.
“Shall we ask Todd?” said Tim. To Michael's ears, Tim's voice sounded rough and unsure, as if he hadn't used it in a while. Michael decided that Tim, like many of the people on the hall, was a late sleeper.
“I don't think so,” Philip said.
Tim grunted and began a making a loud, muffled, buzz. Michael realized he was brushing his teeth with a regular toothbrush, but making the sound of an electric one as he did so. Michael stopped urinating, but stood without closing his pants, listening to his hall-mates. He heard Tim speaking again:
“The weird thing is, Todd accepts everything Chuck D says as truth. Even when he says that people like Todd are evil and should be overthrown.”
“Yeah, you're right,” Philip said, but he sounded unsure.
“Then again, maybe Todd's right and all the rest of us are wrong about it. What's truth, anyway?”
Tim spat in the sink.
“I don't know,” said Philip, and he no longer sounded interested in the conversation.
[What does Michael think about truth? Would he be repelled by Tim’s words? Think about Pontius Pilate? Religious reference might attract Michael.]
Michael exited the stall. Briefly, Philip and Tim turned to look at him, then looked back at each other. Michael hurried out of the bathroom, feeling that they both knew he was curious about Todd, and what was happening on the hall. All fall quarter he had ignored his hall-mates the way he had set himself apart in high school, feeling the gulf between himself and them, the uselessness of contact with others of his age. Now he wanted to understand them.
Back in his room, Michael looked at the hands of the clock. It was ten o'clock. One hour to section. One hour until he saw Helen again. He lowered his gaze and looked along the topmost shelf of his bookcase. With his eye he picked out Goethe's Faust, E. M. Forster's Howards End and The Iliad. He looked back at his translation of Goethe's Faust.
When Michael had first glanced at the books, he had considered finding a quote which explained he and Helen, and read it for inspiration. He opened Faust and leafed through the pages of verse. What did Goethe write about the Queen of Troy, when Mephistopheles had conjured her for Faust's entertainment? Helen of Troy. Helen Zachary. Helen Troy. Helen of Santa Zita. He compared the names and closed the book.
Michael picked up his towel and resigned himself to a shower. He never liked washing himself-it bored him to stand under water for fifteen minutes, and the sight of his naked body in the shower room mirror never gave him pleasure or satisfaction. Nevertheless, it had to be done.
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)