Flash! Fiction 3 by Peter McMillan - HTML preview

47

"Never mind. Later."

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Seated at a table by the window was Mildred, polite but not effusive so she stood out. Willard showed her his purchase, but she wasn't overly impressed. Business studies and languages — French and Spanish, were her fields, and law school was next.

That didn't sound like Willard, but then what did I know about Willard?

With a nod in his direction, Mildred proceeded to fill me in a bit.

They had met in a club — not a bar, but an organization. the strange thing was she didn't name the club, and, in fact, went to some effort to avoid speaking the name, so I didn't feel comfortable pressing. We had some of those at home, too.

Although he had started out in architecture like his father, he had switched to film studies in his second year. Once a month, Willard hosted a special screening of a film noir, an experimental film, and once in a while one of his own. He and four others shared an historic old two-story house two blocks from campus and downtown, and there was easily room for 30-40 people but the audience was more select.

Willard and Mildred made me feel young and ignorant even though they were only juniors themselves — so only two years older than me.

I listened as they talked about campus politics. It never occurred to me that student politics could be worth the time to think or talk about. World events, national politics ... that was the stuff that interested me. In high school, I'd even written essays on current events, 48

drawing from the town library's collection of Time, Newsweek and US News & World Report.

But deans and department heads and faculty senates and trustees were a whole different world. What gave it life for me was the football program angle. Of course, I'd read about allegations of gambling, drugs, and prostitution but had dismissed it as likely the rule and not the exception. Sports were tainted even in small towns.

What I was hearing was that there were people like Willard and Mildred who were taking this seriously. But I wasn't here to be a campus activist and with my course load and this being my first semester in college, I wasn't going to be recruited.

"I have to be going. I've got six classes and two labs tomorrow, and I still have to unpack some things, so I'd better take off," I said.

"It was nice meeting you, Gray. I apologize for all the shop talk, but we'll do this again, and, uh, next time we'll nix the local politics,"

said Mildred.

"How about Saturday?" asked Willard. "There's a home game and it's at night, so the restaurants will be empty from 6-10 p.m. Unless of course you're going."

"No, I won't have time for any games, but there's a pizza place near the library. Do you know it? I could meet you at, say, seven."

"Yeah, Carmine's. Their deep dish is famous. Okay, seven it is,"

said Willard.

"Not me. I'm going to the game," said Mildred.

"But you were just saying that— "