6

Marcus caught sight of Wendy outside school. “Hey, Wendy!” She waved but kept walking, and he had to run to catch up. It was Wednesday, and he hadn’t seen her since Sunday night when he’d driven her home, but the talk, the warmth had stayed with him. Something had been established, a layer of suspicion had been peeled away. They were solidly friends.

“Hey, Wendy, wait up.”

“Your friend, Alec!” she burst out. “He walked right by me in the hall as if I was invisible.”

“When?”

“Today, just a little while ago, outside the biology room.”

“He must have been thinking about something.”

“I was as close as I am to you!”

“He has trouble seeing sometimes.”

“Come on, Marcus, he just forgot who I was.”

“Oh, no, he was asking me all about you. How I knew you? Where you were from?”

“What’d you say?”

“I told him you were my friend.”

“Your invisible friend.”

“I told him I’ve known you a long time.”

Wendy made a face. “I don’t believe it. You’re just being nice to me.”

“It’s true,” Marcus said. “I didn’t make it up.” But what he didn’t say were some of the other things Alec had said. He had guessed Wendy was the one Marcus had fallen on. “Go after it,” Alec said. “That’s stuff.” Marcus had insisted that he and Wendy were friends, but Alec said there was no such thing between male and female. “They’re either relatives or they’re stuff.” Marcus wasn’t going to say that to Wendy.

He felt like saying, Don’t get your hopes up. But why should he? Let Alec say it. Why should he make excuses for Alec? “What do you say to a Baskin-Robbins and some talk,” he said, changing the subject. “Do you have time?”

She nodded and managed a smile. “I’m doing supper for my aunt, but I’ve got at least an hour free.”

In the mall they sat on a bench eating their ice-cream cones, watching people pass in their bulky winter coats. “They look so tired,” Wendy said. “Look at those mannikins, in the summer outfits, then look at the people. People can be so sad.”

Marcus nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He was remembering the way he’d acted Monday when he’d handed in his paper to Sweeny, carrying on like an ass, raving about what an incredible piece of writing he’d done. Three days had passed and Sweeny hadn’t said a word. He knew just what Sweeny was going to say when he handed him back his paper. Rosenbloom, he’d say, a flea’s ass has more talent than you.

He was a blowhard! Telling everybody he was a writer, walking around with a notebook sticking out of his pocket. How could he be a writer? Where did he get the nerve to say he was anything? If he said he was a writer because he kept a notebook, than he could also say he was a lawyer because he liked to argue, or a doctor because he pulled splinters out of his skin.

“What’s the matter, Marcus?”

“I’m worried about the paper I handed in to Sweeny.”

“I’m sure it’s good.”

“You haven’t read it,” he said gloomily.

“Oh, what’s the matter with us?” Wendy nudged him. “These gloom sessions. I think sometimes we just love groveling in the gloom.”

“Do the grovel,” Marcus said. He snapped his fingers. “When you’re blue and out of sorts, do the grovel.” He snapped his fingers, then took a bite out of the bottom of his cone.

“You’re in trouble now,” Wendy said. “It’s all going to come out the bottom.”

“That’s life,” Marcus said. “The bottom’s always falling out.”

“But keep smiling,” Wendy said.

“Hang in there,” Marcus said. The cliches were flying thick and fast. “Don’t let trouble get you down.”

“Every cloud has its silver lining.”

“Smile,” Marcus said, and Wendy smiled. “Cry”—Wendy pulled down the corners of her mouth—“and you cry alone.”

“It’s been beautiful,” Wendy said getting up. “I have to go.”

“I’ll walk with you.” Strange things were happening. They were talking, he was enjoying himself, and he wasn’t thinking about sex every second. Sometimes he felt his preoccupation with sex distorted his life. He didn’t want to be looking at a girl’s breasts all the time, but that’s where his eyes led him. If he caught a glimpse of skin, his heart jumped. Even sex jokes he thought were stupid got a response from him that he couldn’t control.

“What should we talk about now?” Wendy said. “We’ve covered the sad world.”

“And cliches,” Marcus said.

“And how good Alec’s memory is. Almost as good as his eyesight. Oh, I don’t know why it bothers me. I suppose I’m not the sort of girl guys remember.”

“Here come the glooms.” Marcus snapped his fingers. “Time to do the grovel.”

Wendy struck herself. “Oh, no, am I doing it again? Let’s talk about something cheerful, like sex.”

“What’s cheerful about that?”

“You sound like a jaded old pervert. Tell me what kind of girl Alec likes?”

“Big, blond, and California.”

“Great, that leaves me out.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your looks.”

“Thanks, friend. Marcus, when you look at a girl, what do you notice? What do you like particularly? Personality? Sense of humor? What?”

“What is this? TV? ‘The Marriage Game’?”

“Answer the question.”

“Knees,” he said.

“Knees! I should have known. You are a pervert. Do you like my knees? On a scale of one to ten, how do my knees rate?”

“I can’t really tell with those jeans on.”

“I can’t take them off here, sweetie. Oh, you’re blushing. I made you blush.”

Was he blushing? His hand went to his cheek. He hadn’t meant to blush. “Boys don’t blush,” he said. “Girls blush, Barrett. Boys merely redden.”

“Seriously, Marcus, what do you like in girls?”

“The three B’s: bones, boobs, and butts.”

“You guys are all alike. Such an emphasis on parts, as if you were talking about a car. ‘Great headlights!’ ‘Great taillights!’ ‘Great bumpers!’ Now if you asked me what I liked in a guy, I wouldn’t talk about his separate parts. What I respond to is the total person.”

“So what do you like about Alec?”

“Oh, I like his eyes.”

“Come on, Wendy, more details, or I kick you off the panel.”

“Well, I admit I noticed he had a cute tush.”

“No separate parts, huh?”

They looked at each other and smiled. “Do you have fantasies about girls?” Wendy said. “I’m really curious about the kinds of things guys think of.”

“You sound like a sociologist. Sure I have fantasies. Not like yours, though.”

“What makes you think you know what goes on in my head?”

“Put that way, I take it back.” But he couldn’t believe anyone else could dream up some of the stuff that he did.

“I suppose your disgusting fantasies make you horny?” she said.

Marcus felt himself redden again. He didn’t know how much experience Wendy had had, but from the way she talked, he had the feeling she was experienced. When had he ever talked to a girl like this before? He might have been talking to Alec, except that he’d never even described his fantasies to Alec. “My fantasies are off limits,” he said. “Strictly confidential. Not for public consumption.”

“Oh, come on,” she coaxed. “What could my friend tell me that I wouldn’t understand?”

“You’d be surprised. I have a nasty, low-down imagination.”

“Here’s another question for the panel. Are you hung up on a girl being a virgin?”

So his guess was right. She wasn’t a virgin, and wanted him to know that interesting detail.

“Or do you think girls should have experience?”

“Either way,” he said, more embarrassed than he wanted to show. “Just give me a girl.” Now that was smart. That showed real intelligence.

“What about the girls you’ve gone out with?”

“Come on, knock it off.” Was she going to get out her scorecard now, and regale him with her triumphs?”

“What’s the matter?” Wendy said.

“Nothing!” He wasn’t enjoying this. Now girls were bragging about how they’d scored.

“I can’t understand why you’re getting so mad. Did I say something? I know I talk too much. Am I talking too much?”

“Look—” and then at a loss for what to say, wanting to end it, but feeling himself getting in deeper and deeper, he said, “I haven’t had that much experience.” That should settle it. Let her think what she wanted.

“But you’ve had some?”

“Not that much,” he said grudgingly.

“Well, how much?”

“How much have you had?”

“It’s personal,” she said.

“Same here.”

Wendy looked at him. “We’re both scared to say, aren’t we?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I’ll say it. My experience is zilch. Don’t look so shocked, Marcus. Things don’t happen in Buffalo the way they do everywhere else. I’ve made out. You’re not impressed. I’m not either.”

“Buffalo isn’t the only place that’s a desert,” he said. She got the meaning right away.

“Truthfully?”

“Why is it so hard to believe? You think every guy’s an expert?”

“I don’t know. Just, you guys, I sort of thought … I look at guys and I think they all know. Alec comes on so, you know, sophisticated.” She laughed.

“It so happens that Alec is sophisticated, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, here we are.” They were at her house. Did she catch that about Alec’s sophistication?

“Sex isn’t all that important,” she said. “Don’t misunderstand me, I know it is, but there’s more to it than just sex. I’ve had my chances—not that many, but the guys made me mad, they were so stupid about it. You need someone special, don’t you think so? Someone really close. Sometimes I feel I’ll never find that person, and that’s sad.”

“You will,” Marcus said. “I think if you want something enough it will happen.” Then why hadn’t it happened to him?

“I’d like to believe that everything turns out right in the end, but it doesn’t for everyone.” She was being serious again. “There’s a loneliness in some people.”

“You’ll find someone,” Marcus said. “It’s going to happen to you. It happens to everyone.” Kindly Dr. Fraud. “If I say any more I’ll have to charge you, and sexologists don’t come cheap.”

“What I felt in the mall. Some people are sad all their lives. They cover up, but it’s always there. In my sane moods I know that’s why my mother keeps running from man to man. Well, I’d better go. Thanks for talking to me, Marcus.”

He turned down Allen, then up Euclid toward home. Talking to Wendy was a surprise a minute. She hardly seemed to register what he had revealed about himself, something he’d never told anyone in the world before. He’d admitted that he was a virgin. It wasn’t the kind of news he passed out routinely.