Chapter 3

When we finished, she handed me a script and a rehearsal schedule. “You have the part,” she said. I was in shock. “I will see you at the rehearsal on Wednesday evening,” she directed.

I left the theater with several of the young women. We all formally introduced ourselves. Most of these women had been in several of the campus plays. They told me that there were usually parties after each performance. Professor Surino provided the refreshments. They also told me that participating in the theater got those involved a lot of recognition with the faculty and student body.

I walked back to my dorm. Three of the young ladies were in residence there as well. As I was walking to my room Greta was coming in the opposite direction. Greta previously told me that she was beginning her junior year. She stopped and we talked for a few minutes. She asked me how my walk around the campus had gone. I told her about the audition and how I got the part in the play. She was impressed. She said that she had Professor Surino for American Literature last year. Everyone in her class that participated in the University Theater got an “A” in her course.

I told Greta that I would like to join her for dinner if she did not have other plans. We agreed to meet in the student dining area in fifteen minutes. I went to my room and picked up my meal ticket. Just as I was about to leave my phone rang. It was the assistant football coach that I had met at the practice. He said that he had spoken with the head coach. They would like to start me off as a “water boy”. I paused. I realized that being a “water boy” for the football team could put me in conflict with the play rehearsals and performances. I told him an untruth. I said that I had mentioned it to my father. He suggested that since this is my first year in college, he would prefer that I not get involved with any extracurricular activates. “Maybe next year,” I said. He said that he understood. We hung up.

I knew that I was making the right decision. If meeting women is part of my objective, the theater is the best place for me. The cheerleaders will be more interested in the football players and not the water boy. I left my room and headed for the dining hall. While doing my tour of the campus, the dining hall was one of the few buildings where I had not examined the interior. When I walked through the main door there was a foyer. Straight ahead were two more doors that led to the dining hall per se. It was a huge area with cubicles allowing for private dining. “Very classy,” I thought. This was somewhat different from other dining halls I was familiar with. This dining hall did not have a buffet line either. There were young people serving the tables. I learned later these were students making extra money to help pay their expenses. I began my search for Greta. As I walked by the cubicles, I would slow down my walk and glance in. Finally, I saw Greta sitting in one of the cubicles alone.

“May I sit down?” I asked. She motioned to the chair across from her. There were menus on the table. I began to survey the offerings.

“Is there anything here that you would recommend?” I queried.

She smiled and said, “The Rib Eye steak.”

Within a few moments, the waiter walked in and took our order. We sat there for a few seconds in silence. I began to query her about where she was from. She told me that she grew up on the west coast, San Francisco to be more specific. Her father was on the city council and her mother was a lawyer. Greta went on to tell me that she wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

I could tell that Greta was going to be a good lawyer. Within my asking her a couple of personal questions, she had me telling her my life story. It was remarkable how she was able to turn a conversation around. I was not offended. I liked talking about myself. I told her my plans for the future. I even mentioned my goal to attend dental school.

Once the dinner was served the conversation came to a close. We sat quietly and ate. Every once in a while Greta would look at me like she was trying to decide something. When dinner was over and the waiter cleared the table, we had coffee.

“How old are you?” Greta asked.

For whatever reason, I did not want her to know my real age. So, I lied. “I am nineteen going on twenty,” I said convincingly. Then I turned the question on her. “How old are you?” I asked.

“Twenty-one,” she said. After a short pause, “Do you like music?” she inquired.

“Of course, everyone likes music,” I responded. She smiled. I got this feeling that she knew I had lied about my age, but it did not seem to make any difference.

“When we leave here would you like to go back to my room with me and listen to some music,” she asked.

I was not sure what she had in mind. I would have bet that it was going to be more than just listening to music. “I would love to do that. I can’t think of anything else that I would rather do,” I said. Greta smiled again. We left the dining hall.

As we walked into the dormitory there were other students arriving. Greta seemed to know some of them. She acknowledged them by name. When we arrived at Greta’s room, she entered first. She turned on this light that was connected to a dimmer. She adjusted the light somewhere between bright and off.