“Bad news?”
“Serious problems—she needs you. One night with her was enough.”
“What kind of problems?”
“She’s disturbed. Unpredictable.”
He got another bottle. “The crazy thing is, I keep thinking maybe that was what attracted me to her, in the first place. The unpredictability. Because she’s not the type I usually go for.”
“What type is that?”
“Normal. And to be frank, a lot better looking. Generally, I like girls who take care of themselves—athletes.”
“Tessa doesn’t?”
“You met her. Tessa is sad.”
“So you think her unpredictability attracted you?”
“That and—I don’t know, a certain . . . excitability. Like she might be interesting.” He shrugged. “The truth is, hell if I know. I’m still trying to understand it—did she tell you how we met?”
“Why don’t you give me your version?”
“Your basic casual campus pickup. So normal, at first. We were in the student union, studying, eating, our eyes met and—boom. She was intense. Hot eyes, very soulful. And on some level she is attractive. Whatever it was, something clicked. For both of us.”
He shook his head and black hair streamed then fell back in place. “Maybe it was purely biochemical. I’ve read about certain chemicals that influence sexual attraction. Pheromones. So maybe the two of us were in chemical harmony that day, who knows? Whatever it was, it was one thousand percent mutual. Every time I looked at her she was staring at me. Finally, I went over and sat down next to her and she moved herself right up against me, hip-to-hip. Two minutes later, I’m asking her out and she’s saying yes, as if what took so long, guy. I picked her up at her dorm that night. Movie, dinner, more small talk, but it was clear we were both just going through the motions, to make it seem . . . polite, before getting into the inevitable. And she was the one who suggested we come back here. I wasn’t too keen on it, this place isn’t exactly the Playboy Mansion, but she said there was no privacy in the dorms. I brought her back, fixed her a drink, went to the bathroom, and when I came out she was right there.”
He pointed to the mattress in the corner.
“Wearing one of those little black slips and her pantyhose were off, balled up, on the floor. When she saw me, she smiled and spread her legs. Before I knew it . . .” He clapped his big hands together. “Like a collision. And both of us came. In fact, she finished first. Then all of a sudden she rolls out from under me and starts to cry. I try to hold her, she shoves me away. Then the crying gets intense and takes on a sound that spooks me—over-the-edge—hysterical. And loud. All I need is for Mrs. G. to hear and come up, maybe with Sammy—Sammy doesn’t like strangers. So I put my hand over her mouth—not hard, just to calm her down, and she tries to bite me. At that point, I stand up and back off. It was disorienting. One minute you’re making love, the next she’s out to kill you. I’m thinking, you idiot, Muscadine, going for the casual pickup. And she’s not letting up. Finally, she makes this snarling sound, gets on all fours, scrambles for her pantyhose, manages to put them on, then runs out of the apartment and down the stairs. I follow her, trying to find out what’s wrong, but she won’t talk, keeps heading for the street. And now Sam is barking and Mrs. G.’s light goes on.”
“Did Mrs. Green come out?”
“No, we were moving pretty fast. Once she was out on Fourth, she headed north. I said c’mon, it’s late, let me take you home, she said fuck you, I’ll walk. Which is crazy, campus is five, six miles away. But every time I try to talk to her she threatens to scream, so finally I let her.”
He blew out air. “Unreal. For days after I kept trying to figure out what happened and the best I could come up with was maybe she’d been raped or molested before and had a flashback. Then a month later I get the notice to show up for the committee. It was like being hit right here.”