Chapter Three: Parents Weekend
There is something particularly alluring about observing the male behind through the slacks of a suit. The wool, stretched thin and flat across the skin, adhering to the curves beneath its surface; the faint yet somehow vivid outline of briefs cupping each cheek within their grasp; the crevice that begins to form along the seam, offering but a glimpse into the wonders held within. And, on those rare occasions, when one finds themselves with a stroke of luck to gaze upon such a man, stooped over enough to reveal his package--a lost treasure dangling within arm's reach--it takes everything within one's power not to reach out and grab it.
"What an ass!" a voice said.
"Yeah..." Dennis sighed, his mouth starting to gape as he looked on at the derriere.
"Dennis?" the voice asked.
Dennis shook his head and turned toward his roommate. Miguel was a short, scrawny kid whose major difference in body from Dennis was that he lacked the muscles that came along with swimming. Never having been one for any sport, Miguel was nothing more than skin and bone, lacking much definition at all. His skin and eyes were brown and his hair jet-black, and the round glasses he wore always seemed to be at risk of sliding right off his slender nose.
"What?" Dennis asked. He picked up his sandwich and took a bite, returning his gaze to the ass in the distance. Professor Wassermann stood back up, fixing his jacket on the way. After brushing it off, he tossed a napkin into the trashcan. Dennis turned back to his friend, who was still staring at him with his big, brown eyes.
"You were doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"The one where you zone out of a conversation entirely," Miguel replied, as if it always happened.
"I... I..." Dennis started to protest, but he didn't have much of a defense.
"Mi abuela says you're stretching yourself too thin," Miguel interjected, pushing his glasses back into place.
"You told your abuela about my focus?" Dennis asked. Miguel's abuela was a perfectly nice woman, but that didn't mean Dennis wanted her knowing every little detail about his day.
"Of course, I tell abuela everything."
Dennis brushed him off. "You're twenty-one-years-old and you still tell your abuela everything?"
"You don't?" he asked, as if the notion were crazy.
"No," Dennis replied. "My abuela is dead."
Miguel froze. "Oh."
"It's fine. It's been almost ten years. I'm sorry I did 'the thing.' What were you saying earlier?"
"I said, 'What an ass!'" Miguel repeated. "I can't believe Wassermann would assign you ten pages right before Fall Break. In accounting! How do you even write ten pages on accounting?"
He shrugged. "Hell if I know. I'll figure something out. I always do..."
The amazing ass aside, it was kind of a dick move for Wassermann to assign the paper. Fall Break was really only two days plus the weekend, and the university always scheduled a Parent's Weekend and Alumni Reunion at the same time. Between his parents visiting and his regular assignments and his responsibilities on the swim team, Dennis wasn't sure when he'd have time to write the paper.
"What time do your parents get here?"
Dennis looked up at the large clock hanging in the student center. It was almost a quarter past two. "It should be any minute now. I'm supposed to meet them in the quad."
"You had better go then," Miguel told him. Then, looking down at Dennis's half-eaten sandwich, he asked, "Are you going to finish that?"
Dennis took one last big bite of his sandwich and shoved the tray in his friend's direction. "I don't know where you put it all," he replied, referencing Miguel's tendency to eat large quantities of food that couldn't possibly fit in his smaller frame. "I'll see you later."
He stood up and turned, bumping right into Emily.
"Are you leaving?" she asked. The tray in her hands told him she was just on her way to join them for lunch.
"I have to meet my parents," he said.
"Oh... all right." She seemed a little disappointed. "We keep missing each other. Are we still on for dinner on The Strand tonight?"
"Of course, I wouldn't miss it," he told her. The clock chimed, echoing throughout the wooden hall. "I've got to go," he said, turning to rush out. "I'll see you there!"
* * * * *
"Can you believe it's already been thirty-five years?" Mary gasped to her husband, as they took their nametags and reunion packets from the volunteer. "Where has the time gone?"
Bill often wondered that himself.
"Where did you go to school, John?" she asked, stepping off to one side to allow other families to pass through the archway to campus.
Knowing Dennis would appreciate having someone other than his parents visiting, Bill had convinced Mary to let John come along. It hadn't been hard to do; in fact, Mary was quite taken by the idea. For his part, he still was a little uncertain about the relationship between the old man and his son, but he was done standing in the way. Whatever happened to the two was up to them. If nothing else, John's presence would give Dennis something to do while he and Mary attended the alumni reception that evening.
"Would you believe me if I said I didn't?" John replied.
"You never went to college?" Mary asked, surprised.
Bill gave him a look. He hadn't known that.
"Nope," John said. "There was no need. My old man co-owned The Bay City Times. You know, the offices over on Fifth and Market?"
"That old tower next to the Warehouse District?" Bill asked.
"That's the one. Practically grew up there. After graduating high school, I went right into the family business. The plan was always for me to take over the paper one day, but when Dad finally passed, the industry wasn't in the same shape as it had been back in the day. I sold my interest in the company to his partner and--"
"--made enough money to retire," Bill finished.
"I've lived a comfortable life," John conceded. "I always did prefer the life outside of the city anyway."
Mary smiled at him. "That's wonderful. It's a shame you don't have anyone to share it with."
"Mary!" Bill cried.
"What?" she shrugged. "He's a good-looking guy. I'm sure he'd make a woman very happy."
