TUMP
After campus police took Billy Ray and Bubba for a ride to their headquarters, Francine maintained her composure and even refrained from delivering a tongue-lashing to me for polishing off two bottles of her Cajun wine. She was beyond mad, and I guessed her frothy silence stemmed from an irritation at me for being naked with the enemy. On the surface it seemed hypocritical to have slept with him, but I had an explanation. He possessed a magnetic pull that drew me in, and apologizing to her for my actions would be a lie, so I hadn’t said anything. Despite Francine’s scary-crazy personality, I adored her as a friend and roommate. Somehow I had to stop the sweeping undercurrent that threatened to pull us apart and make things between us right.
Jackson’s undershirt and socks had been left behind. And although Francine didn’t tattle, my sleepover with Katie Lee’s fellow New Bernian didn’t go unnoticed. I’d fessed up about the Weatherspoon sighting, but didn’t need to say much about Bubba. Katie Lee already knew he’d been looking for me.
Billy Ray showing up in front of Grogan Hall and brawling with Jackson was front-page news. Tack on Billy Ray ignoring the restraining order I’d filed, then being arrested, and you have a megascoop. Katie Lee filled the Francine-silence-gap that lingered in our dorm room with phone conversations.
The fact that Billy Ray was on campus paralyzed me into shortness of breath and hiccupping. Katie Lee provided me with a muscle relaxer that she used to counter her monthly. I asked nicely, and she’d agreed, with some reluctance, to unplug the phone and stop talking about the encounter for the evening. Francine settled into her butterfly chair with an open book.
As if my personal life wasn’t bad enough, I’d started Schleck’s medieval sculpture class late in the semester. I lay in bed with a section of reading the length of my thumb on sculpture practitioners: Panofsky, Shapiro, and Baxandall. My free Fridays had turned from the best day of the week into the worst. Besides interning for the professor, doing whatever menial tasks she dictated for a couple of hours, I’d then have to sit through her lecture.
“Francine,” I said.
Digging into a Twinkie sleeve, she feigned deafness to my voice.
The relaxers I’d swallowed were indeed relaxing, and in a slur, I asked, “Whatcha working on?”
She turned a head and raised a brow in annoyance. “Kant’s Metaphysics of Morals.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“Anger,” she said, “is a wasted emotion.”
I laughed. I’d seen Francine brawl with an old hallmate over “Rock Lobster,” a B-52’s song, and she’d helped me contain a frenemy who’d pulled a gun on me. Whatever mind game she was playing, it was full of hooey.
“Is that why you haven’t yelled at me? You don’t want to waste your energy on an emotion?”
“You live yours as you see fit, and I’ll live mine. No reason for our train tracks to cross.”
“You’re that mad at me? I’ll replace your bottles of Cloud Wine.”
She threw a hand in the air. “Roger’s right.”
“What?”
“Nothin.’”
I stood up and moved toward her. “Roger’s right about what?”
“Y’all’s half baked.”
I instantly moved his peg down two notches on my likeable chart.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She slammed her book shut. Before she could elaborate, the door opened, and Jet’s voice rang out, “Hey,” to Katie Lee.
Katie Lee said, “You’re back early.”
Then a man’s voice asked, “Is Rachael here?”
“When it comes to cents,” Francine said, “y’all ain’t got no change.”
“Ms. O’Brien, Ms. Battle,” Agent Cauldwell said. “You both are looking well.”
Francine and I locked eyes. She had applied a conditioner to her hair and wore a blue plastic cap to keep the potion from dripping. I hadn’t bothered to shower and was wearing baggy-ass sweats.
“Have you come to tell us they’re in jail?” Francine asked.
“Campus security called the Greensboro police. Billy Ray was charged with violating the order.”
Before unpacking, Jet leaned against the doorframe. “What’s goin’ on?”
“We already know Billy Ray was booked,” I said.
“How?” Agent Cauldwell asked.
“Tuke Walson called us. Wanted to let us know we wouldn’t be bothered,” Katie Lee said.
My mind fogged. “Where is Billy Ray now?”
“Since checking in with the courts and paying some fines, he’s been set free with a warning for breaking the restraining order. If he does it again, he could be jailed.”
“You have to be kidding,” Francine said.
“It’s likely that restrictions have been imposed. May not be able to leave New Bern until he’s been to court.”
I gave a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about him showing up on campus again.
“What about Jackson Kimball?” Francine asked. “Where’s that fool?”
Agent Cauldwell sunk his hands in his khaki pant pockets. “He talked his way out.”
“Excuses,” Francine said, “are like backsides; everyone’s got one, and they all stink.”
“He was released with a warning. His location is anyone’s guess.”
NOTE TO SELF
My life is like the nougat candy fillings everyone avoids. Too sticky and too nutty.