[Saturday, August 27, 1988]
"Are you going to pledge this fraternity?" Tami asked Eric as they walked toward the Zeta Beta Tau house.
"Nah. Did you know you have to pay money to be in a fraternity?"
Tami laughed. "I did know that. Yes."
"And you have to do a bunch of stupid stuff during pledge week. Sounds like a lot of hassle to me. And it's not like I can't just go to any party I want. Why? You joining a sorority?"
"Waco Community College doesn't exactly have sororities, sugar."
[*]
Tami assumed the punch was spiked, but she didn't expect it to be quite as strong as it was. She had just scooped her third glass when she realized she was already quite buzzed.
"Hey, beautiful," said an older-looking, blond-haired boy, maybe a senior, as he came up beside her. "Rad party, huh?"
"Uh…" Tami looked around for Eric. He had wandered off a bit and was talking to Stumpy and a couple of other football players, laughing and moving his hands to illustrate whatever story he was telling. He wasn't drunk – she'd only seen him drink two cups of beer - but he was animated. "Yeah. Fun." Her head was buzzing. She looked down in the cup. "What's in this?" she asked. It had been so sweet. Surely it couldn't contain much alcohol?
The boy laughed. "Aww….gorgeous, lots and lots of vodka." He smiled and leaned in. "What sorority are you in?"
"I'm not…" she looked around him, to Eric, who was absorbed in his conversation.
The boy put one hand flat against the wall near her head. "You uh…you look like you could use a good time, huh?"
"No," she said. "I have a good time with my… …uh…."
The boy put his other hand flat against the wall on the other side of her, so that she was pinned. He leaned in, as if he was going to kiss her. She shook her head, and was thinking of pushing him away, when she heard Eric's voice: "Hey! Andrews! That's my girl!"
The college boy immediately pulled away and turned. "Aw, man, sorry, I didn't know. I really didn't know."
Eric glared at him, walked forward, and took Tami's hand. She leaned against him. "Are you buzzed?" he whispered.
"I don't know," she said, and giggled. She suddenly thought it was very funny she didn't know.
"Guess I better stop drinking," Eric said. "I thought you were going to be the designated driver tonight."
"Sorry."
The boy Eric had called Andrews had disappeared and was talking to another girl. Eric glanced across the room at him. "Asshole," he muttered. "I bet he was going to try to get you upstairs." He shook his head. "My dad told me – don't ever have sex with a girl who's drunk unless you've already had sex with her when she was sober and you know she likes having sex with you."
Tami smiled. She didn't know why she had let Gretchen make her doubt him. Eric was a good guy, raised by a man who had taught him to be a gentleman. "Your dad gave you a lot of sex advice."
"Not really," Eric said. "More like don't-be-an-asshole advice."
She giggled and kissed his ear. "Well," she whispered, "you've already had sex with me sober, and you know I like it."
He grinned, bent down, and whispered in her ear, "Is that permission for later?"
She nodded. "I guess since you're driving anyway, I might as well finish this." She drained that third cup of punch.
"Dance with me," he said when she was done drinking, and drew her out onto the makeshift floor, where couples were engaged in various states of slow and fast dance and near simulated sex, none of which seemed to have anything to do with the music that was playing.
Tami thought she was dancing sensationally well. There were certainly a lot of people looking at her. She put her arms up into the air, turned her back against Eric, and danced, slithering down his body.
"Go, Taylor!" someone shouted.
When she came back up, she shouted, "I need another drink!"
Three different young men ran to her with one. She took a plastic cup in each hand and resumed dancing, to the tune of much clapping and whistling. Eric had stopped dancing and was just watching her. She sipped in between movements. She wasn't sure what this was, but it wasn't as sweet as the punch, and it smelled stronger than beer. It burned a little going down.
Tami wasn't sure how or when or if she'd finished those two drinks, but after a few songs, she discovered both cups were empty. She supposed it didn't matter. The boys would bring her a new one. "Drink!" she commanded.
Eric slid a supportive arm around her waist. "Let's get you home," he said.
"Why?" she asked. "I'm having fun dancing!"
"You can dance for me back at your place."
[Sunday, August 28]
Tami awoke with a pounding headache. Eric was propped up on one elbow, looking down at her. They were on her futon in her apartment bedroom. She was naked. He was naked.
"Did we have sex?" she asked.
"Hell yeah."
She vaguely remembered him ripping open her blouse, or was that a dream? "Am I going to have to sew on some buttons?"
"No," he said, laughing. "They just pulled loose through the holes. You didn't break them off."
"I didn't break them off?"
"When you tore open your shirt. The buttons just popped through."
She also vaguely remembered bending over her desk in the corner of the room and him slapping her bottom and saying, Spread formation. Had he actually said that, or was that a dream? She thought she recalled shouting, Go deep!, but she wasn't sure if she actually had.
"Was there a lot of football terminology in use last night?" she asked.
He laughed. "Do you remember anything you said to me?"
"Not much. Why? What did I say?"
"Lots of things. It would embarrass you if I quoted them all."
She put a hand on her forehead and groaned. "I am so very, very glad I did not get that drunk around some guy I hardly knew." If she had woken up this morning and found herself in some near-stranger's bed…
He kissed her cheek. "Trust me, you had a really good time last night."
She chuckled. "Did I? I wish I could remember it all then." She lay her head on his chest and groaned. "It hurts. My head."
"I'll bring you some water, and make you some coffee, and if Gretchen doesn't chew me out for pilfering her eggs, some pancakes too." He kissed the top of her head.
"What if you hadn't been there?" she said.
"Then you would have been smart enough not to get that drunk. You only kept going because you knew I was there to look out for you."
"This is how so many girls end up having and regretting meaningless sex."
"You don't think some girls drink to lower their inhibitions because they want meaningless sex, but they have trouble admitting that sober?"
"I don't know," she admitted. People did a lot of stupid things. She'd done a stupid thing in her high school days, losing her virginity to Paul at that drama party. Had she drunk for courage that night to do what her body yearned to do? Had she drunk to silence that still small voice of reason that would have told her bluntly, brutally that she was nothing to Paul? "I just know I don't want meaningless sex."
"Neither do I," Eric said. "And last night wasn't meaningless." He kissed her lips. "It was profound, baby."
She giggled. "Be a gentleman and go fix me breakfast."
Tami showered, dressed, and joined him at the kitchen bar. It was already 10:50 AM, and Gretchen was nowhere to be found. "Is she sleeping off a hangover?" Eric asked.
"She doesn't drink. Ever. I think she's gone. She's rarely home."
"Doesn't drink? That's weird."
Tami put a hand on the back of his neck and kissed his shoulder. "Sorry I got so drunk last night."
He laughed. "I'm not."
She kissed his cheek. "I promise I'll be the designated driver next weekend, after your big first game."
"If I play," he muttered. "You know I'm not the star here, right? I'm only second string. Coach will only play me if we're ahead by the half."
"You're playing the Rebels. Don't they suck this year?"
Eric nodded. "Yeah. I have a real chance of some time. I'm nervous about that too. These guys…it's not like high school."
She kissed his ear. "You'll do great, Eric. I believe in you."
He smiled at her. "You know, it's really nice to have my own personal cheerleading squad."
Tami thought of her old friend Mrs. Hernandez, whom she used to visit in the nursing home, and who had died this past spring. "Every man wants a harem, dearie," Mrs. Hernandez had told her once. "Be his."
Eric left at noon so that Tami could study without distraction. She was sitting on the living room floor at 5 PM, her math book open on the coffee table, when Gretchen walked in, Stumpy behind her with a tool box in his hand.
"Hey, Tami," he said. "I'm here to fix your oven because Gretchen says you have a shit landlord." He smiled at her. "Great dancing last night by the way. You could be a professional."
Tami glared at him, and he went into the open kitchen. Gretchen disappeared back into her bedroom. There was a lot of muttering and swearing and clanging coming from the kitchen for the next twenty minutes. Then Stumpy announced, "It works!"
Gretchen came down the hallway and leaned on the kitchen bar. Stumpy demonstrated the oven for her. Tami could see all this from where she sat in the living room. The apartment was that small.
"You're good," Gretchen said.
"So, dinner?" Stumpy asked. "You promised if I got it working…"
"Fine, but don't expect more than a good night kiss after. And you're paying."
"You know he has a girlfriend in New York," Tami said casually, turning a page of her math book. "If that bothers you at all."
"I didn't know," Gretchen said, "but I'm hardly surprised." She levelled her eyes at Stumpy. "And if she hasn't figured out you're cheating, she's a fool."
"I'm not cheating," Stumpy insisted. "She's dating other guys too. We're not going steady."
"Uh-huh," Gretchen said. "Let me go get my purse."
