It was already past noon when Steve chugged up the hill and pulled into the parking lot behind the dorm. He jumped off the cycle and charged into the dorm. He had work to do!
First of all, he had to find out what was available on campus that he could ask her out to. And then he’d better get right at it before Tom did. Let’s see…. Where can a fellow find out what he needs to know? Of course! The bulletin board outside the post office! That should tell him! So off he trotted, his head in the clouds.
The bulletin board was a big arrangement that looked like an outhouse with only a back wall and a large overhanging roof. A fellow could scrutinize its various notices quite inconspicuously. At first he felt good about that, being the private guy that he was. But then it dawned on him: So what? Who cares if the whole world knows?
Let’s see….
Monday night—Canadian legislator to speak. Topic: “Four Reasons Why Russia Will Remain Depressed for at Least a Century”
Lovely. What’s on Tuesday?
Tuesday night—Estonian cosmetics demonstrated by two native Estonians. Recommended for home economics majors
We’re getting better….
Wednesday night—”The Philological Affinities of the Primitive European Dialects to Modern Basque as Shown by Certain Alleged Entomological Ties with the Finno-Ugric Language System: That this Hypothesis Is Untenable.” Second in a series of five lectures.
Can’t you just see the crowds lining up for that one?
Thursday night—The Annual Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra Exchange Concert, featuring the works of Brahms
That’s it! She’ll love it!
And with that thought, Steve’s heart skipped a beat because the next step was no longer just preparatory. It was the actual thing. He now had to approach her and ask her out. Not tomorrow. Today! Right now! O my God!
Up until this very moment he had been borne along by the power of his vision, with no thought of how he would handle its practical side. Sitting on the big log yesterday and feeling her hand in his all afternoon had made it seem so easy, so natural. But now suddenly he was back down on terra firma. His legs felt like lead weights. He, little mouse-faced Stephan Pearson, now had to talk to the real Cecilia Endsrud and ask her to go out with him to this concert! His throat tightened up. He swallowed hard. Beautiful Cecilia with the silky golden hair, the heart-melting smile, the graceful form, the kindest eyes he’d ever seen. He took a deep breath, blinked hard, and headed back to the dorm.
It was 2:30 Sunday afternoon. It would not be proper for him to call her until at least an hour after supper, maybe even not until 7:30 or 8:00. Being Sunday, she would not be in the music hall at that time. Five hours, and what could he do with himself? Goodness, he was hungry!
He went up to the room. Ted wasn’t there, so he swiped a few crackers from his roommate’s larder and downed them hastily. Time to go for a walk! So he left the dorm and strolled around the campus aimlessly.
What an afternoon of highs and lows for Steve! It boiled down to this: When his mind was on her, his spirit soared; but when his mind was on himself, his spirit sank. Sometimes it seemed as though she was walking right next to him at that very moment, kicking through the leaves on the ground and humming a cheerful melody, as he’d seen her do so often on the way to and from the music hall. It had been so easy to talk to her when he was sitting on that big log. Would he get all tongue-tied now when she wasn’t present only in his imagination? He’d have to say something! If in his meanderings he happened to pass by a window, he’d sometimes glance into it to see if he was still as homely as he had been yesterday and the day before, and his heart would sink when he saw the answer. Imagine! Him! Steve Pearson the troll, having the gall to expect a princess like Cecilia to accompany him to a concert and the effrontery to expect that she might enjoy his company so much that she’d do it again, and again, and again, until….
Imagine!
At last suppertime came. Steve had no heart this evening to watch Tom play his little games with Cecilia, so he waited until the very last minute to duck into the cafeteria before it closed. On the way in he spotted Tom and Cecilia out of the corner of his eye getting up to leave. He turned his head the other way and shuddered. He hurried to get into the dinner line so they wouldn’t pass him on the way out, avoiding Tom’s cocky greeting and her awkward attention. All he could handle for supper was a bowl of soup and some crackers.
After supper he walked circuitously back to the dorm, fearfully, like a soldier approaching a beachhead. It was 6:30. The hour was almost upon him. Could he actually bring himself to do it? Would he buckle under the pressure? Back in his room he collapsed onto his bunk.
Out in the corridor the fellows were jabbering again, just when he needed a little peace and quiet. Why did it always have to be that way?
Now it was 7:15. Steve was no readier to call her now than he had been forty-five minutes earlier.
“Rats!” he mumbled, picturing handsome Tom leaning over lovely Cecilia as they exited the cafeteria.
“Rats!” he mumbled again, recalling what his reflection looked like in the windows.
“Oh,” he sighed, just thinking of her.
“I tell you, she loves me! She absolutely loves me!” Steve’s head cocked. It was Tom’s booming voice out in the corridor. He stiffened, aghast.
He’d never thought of that. What if she loves him? What if she really loves him?
“Don’t give me that bull.” It was Lute. “I’ll bet she’s just putting up with you and too polite to tell you.”
“I told you it wouldn’t take him long to win her over. Who can resist a big handsome brute like him?” Ted put in, half serious, half teasing.
“Ha! I’ll bet it’s a long day before she goes out with you again!” Lute was right in there as usual, feeding Tom the old taunt.
“You wouldn’t want to place a bet on that now, would you? I’ve got every social function on campus that she’d be interested in plotted out for the next month.”
“I still say it’ll be a long day.”
“How would you like to make that long day one hour, say?”
“One hour! Listen to him. He thinks he’s already got her in his back pocket!”
“O shut up for once! I’ll bet you clod-hoppers don’t even know there’s going to be a first-class symphony concert here this Thursday. It’s just her thing.”
“She’ll be there, all right. But you won’t.”
“One hour, I say. One hour. Just to show you low-brows what a little culture can do, I think I’ll go over to the women’s dorm right now and sew this one up with her for Thursday. See you in an hour, chumps!”
With that he strode down the stairs in a huff.
Steve sat bolt upright. It was now or never! He hadn’t a moment to lose. Thank God for those new intercom phones they’d just installed to link the buildings on campus.
He stumbled out into the hall and grabbed the receiver. Then he slammed it down again. What was he thinking? He couldn’t have Lute and Ted listening in on this. Breaking into a sprint, he raced down the corridor to the phone at the far end. What would he say? Who cared! Just so he said something.
He seized the receiver and put it to his ear.
“What building would you like, please?” a sing-songy voice asked.
All out of breath he swallowed and stated as calmly as he could, “Put me through to the women’s dorm—the women’s dorm, please.”
“Women’s dorm,” sang out another voice a moment later.
“May I speak with Ce—Cecilia Endsrud?” he faltered.
“Just a moment, please. I’ll see if she’s in.”
If she’s in, if she’s in…, the words echoed in his head. Now he was panting! How would he ever be able to say anything to her? What would he say? What time did it start again? Was it 8:15? Yes, 8:15. All right, 8:15!
“Hello, sir. She’ll be here in a moment.”
In a moment, just a moment. He was shaking like a leaf. His mouth was dry. His brain was muddled. How dare an animal like him even speak to an angel like her?
“Hello.”
The voice was sweet and soft, with just a little lift of curiosity in it.
Steve’s heart was thumping like a jack hammer.
Pulling himself together he stammered, “Hel-Hello. My name is Steve Pearson. I … I…,” he faltered, the pit of his stomach caving in.
She didn’t let him flounder long.
“Steve Pearson? Sure! You’re the one who likes to study in the fresh air and has to put up with my blaring organ every night just because I like fresh air too. I’ve been wanting to apologize to you for some time.”
“Apologize? But I like your music very much. That is, it … it helps a person to study to music….”
He was still flustered, but it relaxed him a bit to know that somehow she knew who he was. (I admit I had told her.) And the sound of her gentle voice! She honestly seemed glad he had called her!
“Still, I should be more thoughtful of others.”
“You really like music, don’t you?” It was the first phrase to fall out of his mouth naturally.
“O yes. I’ve never tried to explain it. Some things are too wonderful to put into words. How about you? Do you like music?”
“Yes. I don’t know much about it, but some music makes me very happy, like robins singing early in the morning, or like hearing you play the organ in the evening. It’s all so beautiful.”
She giggled. “I don’t try to vie with the robins. They’re in a league of their own.”
All at once it occurred to Steve that they were talking about music and he had called about a concert.
“Cecilia,” he said. “I found out today that the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra will be having a concert here on Thursday. I called to ask you if—you—would—go—with—me.”
He’d said it! The last five words barely made it out of his mouth. But he’d said it!
“Of course I would, Steve. Thank you for asking me.”
“O thank you, Cecilia,” he whispered through the huge lump in his throat. “It starts at 8:15. Can I call for you a little before eight?”
“Sure.”
She could tell he was all choked up, and so she got him off the hook by saying cheerfully, “So I’ll see you tomorrow evening on your bench?”
“You sure will. Good night, Cecilia.”
“Good night, Steve.”
Steve stumbled his way back to his room and fell on his bed. Everything inside him had turned to goo. A smile broke out on his face so broad that it nearly ripped his lips. His heart was filled to the bursting point. Stephan Pearson had just died and risen from the dead.