DANIEL HEARS a shower running nearby and then he’s taking off his shoes and clothes behind a curtain with jumping dolphins on it. Voices now through the pounding spray. Young men. Just vibrations through the air as Daniel cleanses himself, rinsing all the soap down the drain at his feet and turning off the water. Steam rises off his skin. It feels tight and warm, and it matches the ache in his back and hips.
A towel. He didn’t think of that. From the locker room come the voices of the young men, two or three of them, and one of them is laughing. “You are so fucking’gay, Peterson.”
“Yeah? That chick wants me bad.”
There’s more talk, and Daniel ignores it and jerks open the curtain and walks naked to the sinks. He’s looking for paper towels to use, but there are none, just a bank of electric hand dryers set into the wall, and he presses the big button of the one closest to him and the machine starts up and he squats and leans back so the hot air blows across his chest and belly, his penis and upper legs. He turns and lets it hit his lower back and rear, and he feels like a fool. Like an unprepared and sick old fool.
One of the boys walks in. He’s wearing only shorts, his stomach muscles showing, and he glances over at Daniel like he sees this kind of thing every day when he’d rather not. Then another boy walks in, and the machine shuts off and Daniel is crossing the floor half wet and the kid steps to the side like Daniel’s the bull and he’s the matador.
Back in his stall he pulls on his boxers and khakis, the material sticking to his damp legs. He pats his front pocket for his cash and pulls his shirt over his head, then grabs his shaving kit and heads for the sinks where the two boys are. The one closest to Daniel is running gel through his short hair and spiking it up in the front with two fingers. These young men are lean and have muscles, and it’s hard not to think of what would happen to them both inside. Daniel pulls out his razor and shaving cream. Words come out of him he hadn’t planned on. “You two know where I can find Professor Dunn?”
“What’s he teach?”
It’s the one closest to him, pulling his hair up into a point before he levels it off with his hand and tries again.
“She. English.”
“I’ve never had her; you, Eric?”
“I’m an engineer. We don’t do English.”
“Sorry, man. That department’s over in Seibert Hall, though.”
“Where’s that?” Daniel is combing back his hair. Standing in front of the mirror beside these two, he feels like a troll from some far-off woods and a time they’ve never even heard of.
“Just across the quad, man.” The kid hooks his head to the right. “Fifty yards that way. You’ll see it.”
Daniel nods. He wants to say thank you, but it’s like the kid just flicked his finger into Daniel’s heart. Fifty yards. One hundred and fifty feet. It was the distance between the Norfolk auditorium and the shop. He can be over to that hall in minutes. Forty years, and now he can be there in minutes. But he’s not ready. He needs to buy better clothes. He needs to—
What? Think of what to say?
Yes.
Daniel pats shaving cream onto his face. He runs the razor under the water, but his hand is shaking like some kid’s, and what if he nicks himself? What if she sees him after all this time with blood on his face?
His hand and arm the last time he saw her, it was splattered with it. And she was three. Three years old. Lying beside him with her cheek to his chest. And now here he is, and he’s not ready.
Daniel runs the water hot and cups it in his two hands and starts splashing the shaving cream off his face.