Sarah Mlynowski - Monkey Business

“He barked pretty loudly,” another student adds.

Professor Douglas laughs a loud, room-filling laugh. “Yes, he does. And he never erases the board. Look at that,” he says, and points to the dry board. “You’d think professors would learn to clean up after themselves.”

Layla jumps up. “I’ll do it.”

Oy. What a suck-up.

“No worries,” he says. “I got it.”

Ah, and he isn’t afraid of manual labor. What more could one want in a professor?

Kimmy walks through the door, coffee in hand, Russ beside her. She laughs at something he’s saying.

I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach. I shouldn’t be jealous. Russ has a girlfriend. He isn’t making a move on my dream girl.

“Good morning,” Douglas says to them.

“Morning,” Kimmy says. Did she just stick her chest out?

Douglas yawns. “I guess it’s not morning for you. You suckers had to be here for nine. I just got up thirty minutes ago. But no worries, I’m highly alert once the caffeine kicks in.”

I don’t know if I can take an entire semester of bad jokes.

“So. Here we are. I’m Professor Douglas, and this is Intro to Accounting. Unfortunately, this is not a how-to course on how to launder money.”

More laughs.

Too bad. Now there’s a final I wouldn’t mind studying for.

Kimmy and Russ are crouched over their meals at a corner table in the cafeteria on the ground floor of the Katz building. Large glass windows are behind them and I have to squint to make them out. “I thought I’d find you hiding here,” I say to Kimmy.

“Not hiding,” she says, sipping her soup. “Just eating.”

“Mind if I join you? What’s today’s special?”

Russ shoves a forkful of beef into his mouth. “Meat loaf. Not bad, either.” He takes a packet of vinegar and dumps it over Kimmy’s fries. Now that’s gross. I thought I was the Grossman. Now that’s funny.

“Will you two still be here after I buy my food?” I ask, trying not to appear anxious.

“Sure,” Kimmy says.

“Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks,” they say in unison.

“What d’ya want?” a mid-fortyish woman wearing a blue smock and a hair net asks when I reach the top of the food line.

“Well, Stella, what do you recommend?”

“How’d you know my name?”

“I’m psychic.”

She peers at me in disbelief. “You are?”

“Not really. You look like a Stella. I can imagine myself as Marlon Brando screaming for you to come back to me. And you’re wearing a name tag.”

She looks down at her chest. “So what’ll you have?”

“What’s today’s special?”

She leans in toward me. “The burgers are from yesterday and the meat loaf is from Saturday.”

“I think I’ll have a grilled cheese.”

Next, Carl, the guy at the cash register, calculates what I owe, and tells me to slide my student/debit card through the swipe machine.

“You’ll have to type in the number,” I say. “I haven’t received my permanent card yet.”

He eyes me with suspicion. “Why not?”

“The bureaucrats lost my picture, again.” What am I going to do about this problem? I’m going to need to have a student card by exam time. But if I apply for one in person, I’ll be found out. And probably kicked out of school.

Carl nods. Apparently he knows all about the bureaucrats. “It’s a mess up there, huh?”

I carry my tray back to my table. Russ and Kimmy’s heads are inclined together in conversation. How did they come to be at dinner together, exactly?

Russ says something, and Kimmy peals with laughter. Russ smiles and leans closer. If I didn’t know about Sharon, I’d swear that Russ is making a move on my woman.

“So what did you two think of Stats?” I ask, depositing my tray.

“Useless,” Russ says. “Professor Gold obviously doesn’t want to be teaching an intro class.”

“Seems that way,” I agree. “She phoned in her lecture.”

“What does that mean?” Kimmy asks.

“It’s an expression. Like in baseball, someone who phones in a game means he didn’t really try. Russ, you a baseball man?”

“Not so much. I play basketball.”

Guess we won’t be watching the games together.

Kimmy sips another spoonful of soup. She is the slowest eater I’ve ever seen. “Personally, I prefer male professors.”

“Why?” I ask, surprised.

“I’ve never liked my female professors. They’re always bitchy. Like they’re trying to prove something.”

Russ uses his fork to extricate the meat crumbs in the crevices of his plate. “Like female customs agents. They always try to nail me when I’m crossing the border.”

I’ve never heard of a female student not wanting a woman at the front of the class. “I thought you’d like having a female professor. They always seem to favor the female students.”

“No, they don’t,” she says, shaking her head. “They always want me to fail.”

“Maybe the ones you’ve had were jealous of your beauty and talent,” I say, and wink.

She laughs and pushes her soup bowl away from her. “Maybe.”

I blow her a kiss. “Unlike the other profs, at least she didn’t give an assignment for Wednesday.”

“I know,” Russ says, shaking his head. “I bet we get just as much work tomorrow,” he complains. “Better start my reading now. But first I’m getting a bag of chips.”

Yes, Russ, why don’t you go study…somewhere far away, maybe?

“So what are you doing tonight?” I ask, once Russ is safely away from the table and in the food line. “Want to see a movie?”

“I…we have a ton of reading to do,” she says.

Not what I wanted to hear. I was looking for a more positive response, like maybe, “Sounds fabulous!” or dare I hope for “I’d love to be entertained by both you and Hollywood!”

“Come on, it’s only the first day of school. It’s just going to get worse, my darlin’. Enjoy it while you can.”

“That’s true. Maybe. Where’s the movie theater?”

“Only a ten-minute drive away. It’s just past the Children’s Hospital, if you know where that is.”

“You have a car at school?” she asks, leaning toward me.

“Yeah,” I say smoothly. Score! Who doesn’t want to date the guy with the car?

Russ slides into the seat beside Kimmy and slashes open his bag. A ketchup cloud wafts above the table. “Chip?” he offers.

“No, thanks,” Kimmy says.

I take a few.

Kimmy turns to Russ. “Jamie just suggested we go to a movie tonight. What do you think?”

We? What we? Who invited Russ? She and I equals romance. Russ, she and I equals group goes to movie.

I try to catch Russ’s eye to mime the signal that he should say no. That subtle male clue would be me frantically shaking my head.

He says, “Sounds good.”

He’s killing me here. “I thought you wanted to get a head start on your work.”

“It’s only going to get worse, eh?”

Bastard.

8:50 p.m.

“Running late?” I say to Russ as he passes me in the bathroom. Please don’t cancel. Please don’t cancel. I’m leaving the shower stall, and he’s on his way in. I’m holding my towel securely to me. But not too securely. If he wants to tear it off, I won’t stop him. Although he’ll probably scream in horror at my fat ass.

Russ is holding a green towel around his waist with his left hand and a two-in-one bottle of shampoo and conditioner in his right. His stomach is exposed. One, two, three, four…five…six. Yup, that’s a six-pack. “Just a little late,” he answers. “But don’t worry. I won’t leave you alone with you-know-who.”