CHAPTER 2



The alarm clock buzzer sounded precisely at 6:00 AM. Pam, still dressed in last night's outfit, immediately sat up, despite feeling heavy-headed. Through force of will, she made herself stumble to the bathroom and open the cabinet. The pain in her head weighed down on her, but she extracted her birth control pill out of the package, then stuck in her mouth and swallowed it.

During her late adolescence, she had trained herself to wake up at exactly the same time every day, no matter how sick she felt in order to take the Pill. Some days she did it out of routine, and some days, when she wasn't sexually active, she wondered whether it was worth the bother. But she figured that as long as she took it, pregnancy-- the tragedy that hung over the heads of every young single woman with a future ahead of her-- would never befall her.

But taking the Pill now took on an extra special urgency. It was an act of hope. As long as she took the Pill, she could not give up hope that Dylan and her might hook up one day. And she knew that if she could get Dylan alone, he would never forget her, and once hooked, she knew that her personality would entice him enough to keep her. Hopefully forever.

Pam stumbled back to her bedroom and fell on the bed. " Come on, it's time to get up, " said Cate from her bedroom. " We have to go to work."

Pam cursed. Once again, she forced herself to stand, making herself ignore her psychological state. She went to her closet and pulled out the first decent clothes she put her hands on-- a blue t-shirt and some jeans. She took a three-minute shower, got dressed and rummaged through the food closet for a quick breakfast. Then her eyes lit up with realization. Today was English 203: Shakespeare. That was the class she shared with Dylan. She grabbed a Nutri-bar, opened it and headed to her bedroom to pack her schoolbag for the afternoon class.

They took the bus to Maxine's, the coffee shop where they only started about two weeks ago. This was the first time they were working the morning rush hour. It was an unpretentious shop with a large window facing the street, and mainly frequented by middle-aged working people going to and from their jobs.

Barb Werner, a plump fifty-something lady, was Pam's boss. She made all her employees wear a black smock and a hairnet, or at the very least a kerchief. Pam chose the kerchief, and hated the smock, but at least she could wear whatever else she wanted underneath as long as it was clean, neat and innoffensive. Beginning around 7:15, the line-up was continuous, usually four or five people deep. The clientele, while not laid back, were not excessively rushed either. They came to Maxine's partially for the atmosphere. It wasn't a chain coffee shop with seventy-five varieties of coffee no one had ever heard of. There were only about ten different flavours, most of them familiar. One could at least imagine what they tasted like.

Cate served the coffee and pastries in back of the glass counter while Pam minded the cash register. Pam liked to people watch as she worked. Observing mannerisms, dress and hairstyles inspired new characters.

The morning rush hour was coming to an end. As she was ringing up an order, she heard a male voice address her boss. " 'Dessert' takes two S's, Barb."

She handed the customer his change and looked up to see what was the matter. Barb was writing up the day's special on the chalkboard that sat at the edge of the counter and she had mispelled "dessert."

There was only one man left in the line-up. Oh my goodness, look at that hair, thought Pam. He had a bushy black mop on his head. " I'm sorry Barb, it's the proofreader in me," he said.

" That's okay, Tim, I know they got you programmed that way," said Barb goodhumouredly.

He turned to give his order and saw Pam for the first time and his eyes widened. She looked exactly like the kind of her girl he had always wanted to marry. She a beautiful, wholesome face with straight white teeth, auburn hair and bright eyes. Just like the girl next door. Suddenly his palms began to sweat.

" What kind of proofreader?" asked Pam. She then noticed his big shiny smile and how it radiated his interest in her. His attraction was so naked, she thought it was pathetic.

He was stunned by her curiosity in him. He was not used to female attention." I work at Macaulay-Robertson," he replied.

" As in the publishers? "

" That's right."

" That must be interesting, getting to read all sorts of books."

A woman who likes books! What a great connection, he thought. Hmm, maybe we might have something in common, he hoped.

He gave his order and Cate waited on him. She had seen the way he'd looked at Pam. She thought it was cute. He looked so sweet and innocent, although he had a weird way about him.

" That'll be three-fifty," said Pam.

The encounter was all to brief too Tim. He wanted to dally a little longer. He pulled out his change wallet. "Do you mind if it's all in change? "

Pam expected him to give out loonies and quarters. "It's all legal tender. " She was all smiles. Tim dumped the contents of his wallet on the counter with a loud clang. He bent over to see what was there.

"I hope you don't mind if I pay with lots of nickels and dimes. I have so much change on me."

Her smile evaporated, but she continued to sound bubbly." It'll replenish my cash drawer."

He counted the money as slowly and deliberately as possible, putting the money in her hand.. She put it back on the counter.

"I could even give you pennies…"

"No no, please, don't trouble yourself counting all those pennies. The nickels and dimes are fine."

Darn, thought Tim.

Cate brought his drink to the counter. "Thanks for obliging," said Tim. "Here, you can have my quarters. " He put a dollar twenty-five in the tip bowl. " And why not, my pennies too." He added twenty-six pennies. "Thanks for letting me get rid of that load. At least I saved you a trip to the bank, eh?"

He grabbed his coffee and muffin, and made his way on foot to the Parkinson edifice, where he worked.

" Looks like you have an admirer, " Cate said to Pam.

" Lucky me, " Pam said casually.

" Wasn't it sweet the way he counted out change just to stay next to you."

" He's kinda funny that way. " Yeah, in a pathetic sort of way, she added.

Regardless of his peculiar manner, Pam knew he was a contact to be cultivated. Having an acquaintance at a publishing company was nothing to sneeze at, especially since he was a proofreader, and probably dealt with editors at some point.

I have to see him again, Pam thought. But this could not be a simple friendship. Since he was attracted to her, he would think of her as a potential partner, not merely as someone who had the same interests. As long as he pursued her, and she continued to appeal to him, the relationship would continue. But if she let on that she didn't think of him in the same way, that would introduce uncertainty in the relationship, and it could become awkward. Plus she had to make his involvement with her worthwhile. If she turned him off at some point, he might decide to break up.

She would have to pretend that she potentially had romantic interest in him. She would have simply liked to have been upfront with him, but that would not serve her purpose.

She would do everything she had to keep him.

Her mind stopped.

Would she sleep with him?

She asked herself: how badly do I want this? This would be the stepping stone to a future career.

If it could guarantee publication, she would. But only if necessary. If there was no guarantee of his help, she wouldn't.

__________________________________________________________________



Tim couldn't keep his mind off the coffee shop girl. That fresh innocent face. He savoured it.

He then wondered if she was Catholic. That was a huge concern. What if she weren't Catholic? Would he still date her?

The dream had always been to have a Catholic wife, and a Catholic family with several children. The possibility of that dream dimmed every year he aged. Any woman was hard to come by, let alone a Catholic woman.

The image of her face melted away his unease. He would worry about that later. It had been so long since he had had even the faintest hope of dating any woman. He would figure all that out later. For now, he would savour his infatuation, the one juicy delicacy in his humdrum life.



When her shift was coming to an end, Pam had an idea. " Hey Cate, I'd like to get to class extra early. I don't mean to rush you…"

" Are you that anxious to get back your essay ? " asked Cate.

She hadn't thought of that. " Well yeah, and I want to make sure that I get a good spot next to Dylan. I don't want to force you or anything…"

Cate hesitated. "Alright, I'll take the early bus with you."

" Don't feel obligated."

" It's important for you, and it's no big deal for me."

They untied their smocks and hung them up on a hook in the back room. They slung their packsacks over their shoulders and headed to the bus stop.

When they arrived in the small auditorium that hosted their class, Pam spotted Dylan's usual seat, second row from the back, next to the alley way. She wanted the seat in back of him. There was another male student eyeing her spot from the entrance at the top of the stairs. Pam walked as quickly with jittery steps to claim the seat before he could get there, leaving Cate behind, feeling embarrassed.

" Sorry about that, Cate, but Dylan always sits in that seat, and I want a good view".

Her bosom swelled with anticipation. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dylan step into the auditorium at the top of the stairs. She turned her head towards the clock on the wall, but her gaze was on him. He surveyed the auditorium, took off his sunglasses, and hung them on the collar of his shirt. He looked like he belonged somewhere else, like Florida or California. That was part of his allure. Everywhere he went, he made people feel like they were somewhere else, somewhere better.

Pam's heart grew more limp with every step he took towards his seat. It was junior high all over again for her. Her stomach began to secrete acid. She took out her agenda and her favourite blue felt pen began crossing off assignments that had been completed and objectives that had already been attained. Sept. 5-- Read 100 pages of Richardson novel by Tuesday. Sept. 6-- Research five books or articles about Shakespeare. Sept. 10-- Revise Shakespeare essay.

She began to plan the objectives for next week. A friend of Dylan's sat next to him. She pretended to be deeply enthralled by her schoolwork as she eavesdropped on their small talk. They said nothing especially important between themselves-- Dylan went to see a movie, his friend went to a football game.

As they got ready for class, the conversation grew silent. Pam pushed her pen onto the floor and it landed in between Dylan's feet. She lightly tapped him on the back. "Excuse me," she said with bright eyes. " Could you pick up my pen please? "

Dylan caught the music in her voice. " Nope, " he said with a deadpan face.

" No? " said Pam surprised. " Fine, I'll pick it up after class."

He picked up the pen. " No, I plan to keep this pen."

Why would he want to keep her pen? This wasn't just a dollar store Bic, this was a $7.95 long-lasting felt pen she purchased in the stationery section of the campus bookstore. She wrote all her story ideas with this pen, and all her school notes. She needed that pen.

She was about to protest when he said " I'll give you your pen, on one condition."

" What's that?"

" You tell me your name."

" It's Pam."

He put the pen on her desk. "Nice meeting you, Pam."

" You're not going to tell me your name?"

" You know my name."

" So? You can still introduce yourself. Ever hear of good manners?"

" You're one to talk, dancing on tables at Coyote Joe's. By the way, you dance very well."

Pam's stomach fluttered. He noticed! " I'm glad you enjoyed it. "

" Well, I hope you don't go around lecturing people about their manners ever again until you give a better example."

Cate was completely unimpressed with the conversation. Sure, Dylan was a good looking man, in a conventional way. She thought he looked sculpted, as if he deliberately worked at building up his muscle three times a week, instead of developing it naturally through activities he practiced.

A tall, thin be-spectacled male T.A. entered the room carrying a huge stack of essays and plunked them on the table in front. He left the room and returned with another batch. He then categorized them alphabetically in five piles: A-H, I-M, N-S, T-Z and wrote the correspoding letters on the blackboard. He raised his voice to get everyone's attention. " Can I have your attention please? The essays have all been corrected. Please get them now. "

Pam went down to get their essays. She was always a little queasy about getting back corrected work. She went through the first pile and dug out her essay from the bottom. She peaked at the grade. She could breathe now. It was an "A". She went back to her seat and pored over the comments the T.A. made. They were mostly positive.

When Dylan got back with his essay, she raised her eyes from her paper to casually glance at his grade. It was a "C". Hm, I wonder if he needs some help with his paper, she thought.

He clicked his tongue. " I just don't get this crap, " he said to his neighbour. " This is like a foreign language. " He turned around to look at Pam's essay. " What did you get?" He saw the grade. He winced at the fact that someone managed to understand Shakespeare and write a good essay.

Her eyes remained fixed on her paper. " My number's in the student directory, if you need any help."

He turned around. She glanced at him and mentally kicked herself for having said that. He didn’t seem interested in her help. Maybe it even looked arrogant.

A tall girl with thick black curly locks caught his eye. She was going up the steps with her essay. Dylan put his hand on her elbow. "Hey stranger, where're ya been?"

The girl smiled back. They exchanged meaningless banter. The conversation was mostly made up of that smile. Pam did not like it; the way her cheeks were so bouyant, and how her eyes were so concentrated.

How am I ever going to compete with that? She wondered. The girl was wearing a clingy shirt with a large round neckline. It didn't exactly have cleavage, but that rotund figure teased the eyes to keep looking.

Probably a little bit on the trampy side, thought Pam. Those aren't innocent curves. She knows the reaction they get.

I offer sex too, another part of her self countered. Except that I offer the relationship with it. That's the difference. Then she paused. Nothing wrong with a night of casual sex. Nothing wrong at all. She paused again. But if you want it to mean something…

Nika, as she was called, turned around to take her seat. Class was about to begin. Pam caught a glimpse of her grade. It was a "B". Pam was not impressed. Then she watched Nika slink up the stairs.

Dylan ignored her for the rest of the class, even during the break. Pam tried to think of a good reason to get his attention, but all her ideas seemed lame now, lame in comparison to Nika's charm.