Sarah Mlynowski - Monkey Business

“Forty minutes,” I say. I set my watch and return to my work.

Forty minutes later, my alarm goes off. I stop it before the librarian boots us out for disturbing the peace. “Me first,” I whisper. He stands up behind me, rolls his sleeves, and begins massaging my neck. Tighter…oooh…ahh…It’s sooo good. I feel sooo relaxed. I feel sooo good.

I feel sooo…aroused?

I probably shouldn’t be feeling aroused at the library. I probably shouldn’t be feeling aroused by a man who’s not my boyfriend.

Sunday, March 7, 4:00 p.m.

Russ doesn’t answer when I knock on his door, so I knock again.

I hear the Spider-Man soundtrack. Why isn’t he answering if he’s inside? Is it possible…is he…is he in there with someone else? Bastard. He’s probably sleeping with some slut. Who? Who can he possibly be screwing? Lauren? Layla? Some coed?

“You’d better open up,” I say, seething, and continue pounding. “I know you’re in there. Open the damn door!”

The door creaks. I kick it wide open. “Where is-”

Russ’s hair is ruffled, and his eyes are half-closed. He’s wearing jeans and his favorite green Roots sweatshirt. He’s alone. “Were you napping?” I ask, feeling stupid.

He nods and lies back down. Why was he napping when he was supposed to be studying Finance? The midterm is tomorrow. And it’s impossible. For me, anyway. I don’t understand any of this stuff. I’m going to fail. It’s only worth twenty percent, but still.

Russ also has to finish his part for the GBE project. He promised Jamie that he would have his section done by five. Jamie has to finish putting it together and hand it all in tomorrow. Just like he did for the Marketing assignment, Russ is the last one to finish his part for the GBE. “Did you finish studying for Finance?”

“Almost.”

I think he’s lying. “Yeah? Good. Let’s work on Operations, then.”

He groans. “Let me get a cup of coffee.”

Nick sticks his head in the doorway. “Russ, aren’t you coming with me to ref?”

Ref? What is he talking about?

Russ slaps his good hand across his forehead. “Oh, man. I forgot.”

“What’s ref?” I ask. Don’t tell me he’s blowing off studying for basketball. Again.

“I promised I’d referee the game tonight, since I can’t play.” He waves his sprained hand at me.

“You promised to referee a game when we have a midterm tomorrow? Are you crazy?”

He scratches his head. “It does seem stupid, now that you mention it.”

“You can’t get out of it now, dude,” Nick says.

Why is there a basketball game right before a midterm? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

“I’m just refereeing the first game and then I’ll be back,” Russ says. “Give me an hour.”

Is he an idiot? “You think you can finish studying and also finish your part of the assignment all tonight? Does this mean you’re going to be pulling another all-nighter?”

“Probably.” He kisses me on the forehead and scampers off. That boy seriously needs a vacation.

I review my notes for Finance and then take a ten-minute break to play on Travelocity to find a last-minute vacation.

Apparently I cannot afford Barbados. Maybe Miami? Seems like every undergrad in the world is going to Miami. I need something cheap. Romantic. Did I mention cheap? Montreal pops up. Montreal? Is Montreal cheap?

“Go on a romantic ski resort vacation in Montreal!” the computer cries out to me. Fireplace. Hot chocolate. Cuddling. Lots of cuddling. Skiing. French. It’s like going to Europe but much, much closer. Canada it is. I have always wanted to go to Canada. Really. Mountains. Clean air. Fun. How cold can it be? I’ve always wanted to learn to ski. Slaloming down the mountain. Sexy. In one of those sexy ski outfits. Tight and impractical. Look, I’m a ski bunny! Skiing in Montreal it is. And there’s a last-minute special.

At ten, Jamie comes by looking for Russ and his part of the assignment. “He said he’d have it done by five,” he moans. “It’s due tomorrow.”

“He’s almost done,” I lie.

“Tell him I’m going to bed early, and that I’ll put it together during lunch tomorrow.”

At eleven, yes eleven, Russ knocks on my door. “Do you think I can finish the assignment tomorrow?”

Is he joking? “Russ, you need to get it to Jamie tonight. ”

He fidgets with a pimple scar on his cheek. He’s been breaking out a lot lately. What’s wrong with him? “That’s slightly problematic,” he says.

“Look, why don’t I help you with it? It won’t take more than an hour.”

We work on it until one. He keeps glancing at his watch.

“What?” I ask. “You turning into a pumpkin?”

“I just want to start studying for tomorrow.”

Oh. My. God. “Did you just say start? It’s 1:00 a.m.! Are you crazy? Why didn’t you tell me you haven’t started? Why haven’t you started?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“I’ve been busy, too, but I still managed to study for my midterms. Especially the one tomorrow, which let me remind you is worth twenty percent.”

He looks at his watch again.

“Go,” I say. “I’ll finish this and send it to Jamie.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He kisses me on the lips. “I love you.”

I love you? Did he just say the L word? He looks surprised that he said it. I don’t know if he meant to, but it’s too late. It’s out there, suspended in the air like potent cologne. He loves me. “I love you, too.” Mission officially complete!

Thursday, March 11, 11:38 a.m.

Ifinish my Operations midterm and hand it in. “Have a great week, Professor Sholtz.”

“Thanks, Jamie. You, too.”

And that’s it. Another half a semester gone. Three-eighths of my postcollegiate education is over.

Layla is still scribbling away with furious intensity as I pass her on my way out. She’s shaking her head angrily as she always does during a midterm, which is her way of claiming that she failed.

Yeah, right.

Now, how to enjoy my next week? Oh, right. Torturing myself with visions of Layla screwing Kermit. And looking for a job. I’m excited by the idea of working for a movie studio. I don’t know what it is about Layla. I think she might be my muse. Before I met her, everything seemed like a waste, a joke, and now I want to do something with my life. Make something of myself. Partly to impress her, but mostly because she makes me want to be a better man. Where’s that line from? Oh, As Good As It Gets . See, I’m made for the movies!

I pretend to use the Internet terminals in the hallway while I wait for Layla to finish writing her exam. Ten minutes later, I spot her and wave.

“I failed,” she says.

“Sure you did.”

“I didn’t have time to finish! How could he give us only an hour and a half to answer eleven questions? It’s absurd.” She’s wearing her hair in a high bun, and tendrils are framing her face.

“Absurd.”

She laughs and leans against the terminal. “I have to pack.”

“What time are you leaving?”

“As soon as I can.”

“Last chance to spend the week here with me. It’s going to get crazy here at the Zoo.”

She laughs again. Thinks I’m kidding. Thinks I don’t really want her to stay. She pats me on the head and says, “You sure you don’t want to go home? It’s going to be lonely here. Do you know that Kimmy and Russ are going to Montreal?”

“Quiet will be good for me. It’ll make me focus. So tell me, how’s Kermit?”