Once
Upon A Time at College
Chapter 12
Charles Ruttheimer III was somewhere he'd long dreamed of being, yet never believed he'd actually reach... Daria Morgendorffer's bedroom. The reality, he was finding, fell somewhat short of his imaginings, but it was no less a thrill to be here. The only visible feminine thing in the room was a hairbrush on top of the chest, and the only things that lent her personality to it were a Franz Kafka poster and a plastic model of a human brain. But Daria herself was right behind him as he sat at her desk studying the screen of her laptop, and though she was nowhere in contact with him or even nearly so, it seemed to Charles that he could feel her with every nerve ending on the upper back half of his body.
Good grief, Ruttheimer, get a grip before you make an ass of yourself, he told himself as he struggled to grasp what the screen was telling him. "Okay, then what do you do?" he asked Daria.
"There are two main ways you can go from here. You can click on 'Calculate Buy/Sell Points' and the computer will give you the price level and number of shares for the next buy and sell order, and then you execute whichever one the stock price reaches. Or you can just check the stock at some regular or irregular interval, like once a week or once a month, and when the price has gone up or down enough, it'll tell you how many shares to sell or buy at the current price." Daria pointed over Chuck's shoulder at the screen. "You have the option to change the number of shares, then click on 'Execute'. It sends the trade order through your regular stock trading software."
Charles continued to study the screen. "Hmm, I don't know. There are other reasons I might want to buy and sell stock than just the price, and I have a set of buying criteria that work pretty well for me."
"And you can still use them if you want, along with this program. But the thing it does best is help me with the part of investing that most people have the most trouble with, selling shares of a stock while it's going up. We all know it's what we're supposed to do, but most of us wait too long and lose our profits. This program tells me how many shares to sell at what price, and I know that if I do it, I'll come out ahead."
"Hmm. I can see the advantage of that. Okay, I'll go to the website and read their literature. Want me to show you my stock analysis software?"
"Another time. I have to do some homework for tomorrow."
Chuck concealed his disappointment. "Oh. Well, I'll shove off and let you get to it, then." He got up and headed out, Daria accompanying him to the front door. Choosing his words carefully, he turned and said, "I had a good time today."
Daria gave him a small smile. "I did too. See you later."
-o0o-
"Thanks for helping me with dinner, Daria. You don't have to, you know. I'm pretty sure I can manage." Jane was stir-frying vegetables and keeping an eye on a pot of rice.
"No problem. Chinese recipes tend to be preparation-intensive. A Chinese chef is usually backed up by two or more cutter-uppers. Anyway, since I decided to put off schoolwork till after I get a good night's sleep, I've got nothing better to do." Daria cut an onion into long thin slices as she talked.
"Do these veggies look done enough yet?" Jane asked.
"Yeah. Go ahead and throw in the shrimp now, and then give the rice another quick stir so it doesn't stick." Daria used her Chinese cleaver to scoop the sliced onion into a bowl and began to slice beef into long, thin strips.
Jane briefly admired Daria's deft cleaver work and said, "I'm surprised you're so good at this, what with your mom's affinity for frozen lasagna."
Daria smiled slightly. "Dad does a good bit of oriental cooking, and I took to helping him so I'd have a chance to hide most of his peppers."
Jane grinned. "Your dad's a hoot. I wonder how he's doing now that the pepper rustler is gone."
"I'm guessing that either Quinn's learning to swipe the peppers, or he's burned out those last three taste buds by now."
"Hey, girls, is there anything I can help you with?" Trent asked.
"There goes my bum ear again! I thought I heard Trent volunteering to help in the kitchen," Jane smirked.
"He probably wants to get within snatching range of the food," Daria suggested.
"Man, a guy tries to help, and all he gets is abuse," Trent groused.
"Aww, poor misunderstood man," Jane cooed. "You can set the table and put the rice in a bowl."
"Put it in a bowl? Why not just put the pan on the table and save having to wash the bowl?"
"Jeez, Trent, we're trying to pretend we got class here," Jane said.
"Oh, then, by all means," Trent replied, smirking, "Where do you fine ladies keep the Ming rice bowls?"
-o0o-
"I really like this Mongolian beef, Daria," Trent said, helping himself to more.
Daria looked down at the table and smiled. "Jane cooked it; I just cut up the ingredients."
"Don't self-deprecate, Daria," Jane said. "It's your recipe, you put it all together. I just stirred it, like I did with the packaged shrimp stir-fry."
"I just took Dad's recipe and subtracted ninety percent of the hot peppers."
"It's plenty hot for me. I'd hate to try to eat your dad's version."
"I could eat it some hotter, but it's excellent the way it is," Trent said. "Why didn't we have stuff like this at home?"
"Gee, I dunno, Trent, maybe because neither of us could cook worth a flip?"
"That could've been it."
"So, Trent, do you have anybody lined up to see tomorrow?" Daria asked.
"Yeah, I have an appointment with a night club guy at one, and another guy said to come by sometime before six."
"That doesn't sound like a very full day," Jane said.
"The people I need to see don't keep early hours, Janey. There are a couple of places I'm gonna go by in the morning, but there may not be anybody there to talk to. I'll probably pick up a lead or two, though, and maybe I'll be able to see them today too."
Daria rose from the table. "So I guess I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow, and again at dinner."
"Going to bed so early?" Trent asked.
"Yeah. I didn't get much sleep last night, and I want to try to catch up."
"Burning the midnight oil studying for a test?"
"Ha! More like carousing and gambling till oh dark thirty," Jane smirked. "You wouldn't believe what she came in with this morning!"
Daria rinsed her plate in the sink. "Hmph. Well, I wouldn't want to cramp your creative reporting style, Jane, so while you two are working on the Ballad of Wicked Daria, I'm going to take a nice hot shower and hit the sack."
"Good night, Wicked Daria," Jane said.
-o0o-
Early next morning, a just-woken Jane peered around the end of the hallway into the kitchen area, scratching her ribs. "Up already?"
"Yeah," Daria replied, stirring sliced sausage in the skillet. "That's what I get for going to bed early. I thought of waiting till Trent woke up and got dressed before I came out, but..."
"Ha. That would be like the Handsome Prince waiting for Sleeping Beauty to wake up and kiss him. Could be a mighty long wait."
"Yeah, that's what I figured. It's kind of awkward for him, though, since the kitchen and the den are all one room," Daria pointed out, draining grease from the skillet.
"Oh, come on, don't tell me you've never seen Trent in his boxers."
"Only accidentally, never in a situation where he had no choice."
Jane sighed and shook her head. "All right, Daria, to spare Trent's nonexistent modesty and your delicate sensibilities, when breakfast's ready I'll wake him up and you go hide your eyes, and he can put his pants on sight unseen." She smirked. "You really should watch, though. He puts 'em on both legs at once, you know."
"Uhh, better not. I'd probably be distracted all day, and my grades would suffer. Maybe after I graduate."
-o0o-
Her classes at Raft over for the day, Daria opened the door and heard the unmistakable sound of Trent's snoring. He was in the recliner, in the fully reclined position. He was wearing his jacket, as if he'd just come in or was about to go out, but Daria saw that his battered old lyrics book was open on his stomach, and one hand loosely held a pencil.
Smiling a little, Daria proceeded down the hall to her bedroom, deposited her book bag, and hung up her jacket. Then she remembered that Trent had mentioned that he had an appointment to see someone at one this afternoon. She looked at her watch. It was twenty-two after one.
Maybe the appointment has been canceled or rescheduled, Daria thought as she left her room. Maybe…maybe nothing. This is Trent. He's late.
Daria walked over to the recliner and nudged the armrest with her knee. It waggled back and forth a little. "Trent," she said.
This produced no reaction, so she nudged a little harder and called a little louder. "Trent."
Still nothing. Daria bent over slightly and rapped on the cover of Trent's lyrics noteblook with her knuckles. "Trent!"
"Zznork! Honest, officer, they threw the panties onstage!" Trent started and reflexively grabbed at his lyrics book. He tried to cover his mouth to cough and stabbed himself in the nose with the pencil. Scowling sleepily up at her, he said, "What, Daria?"
"Don't you have an appointment at one?"
"Yeah."
"It's one twenty-four."
He continued to stare for a second, and then began struggling to extricate himself from the recliner. "Oh, crap," he commented sagely.
"Pull the handle," Daria said, pointing.
"Oh, right," Trent replied sheepishly, and pulled the handle. The chair unreclined and he got up and headed for the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and took out an egg, then got a spoon out of the dish drainer and, using the handle end, poked a hole in each end, and sucked the egg out of the shell. Taking the can of coffee from the shelf, he pulled off the plastic lid, scooped out a spoonful of coffee, and ate it. Then he quickly strode to the door, grabbed his guitar case, and was gone.
Daria stared at the door for several seconds, and then turned to regard the items Trent had left on the kitchen counter. Picking up the eggshell with two fingers, she dropped it in the trashcan, then replaced the lid on the coffee can and returned it to the shelf. No wonder Jane is so easily impressed by cooked food, she thought.
-o0o-
Fixing herself a sandwich with a pickle strip, chips, and a cola, Daria pondered what to do with the afternoon. She had four hours free till time to start dinner. She didn't really feel like writing or doing schoolwork. She could spend it on the Internet, but she knew too well that she could spend an almost unlimited amount of time on the Internet and have nothing to show for it. Taking a bite of pickle, she recalled that she needed to get her books for the next quarter. There was a used bookstore not too far away that she'd been meaning to check out. She took another bite of sandwich. She'd need to drive, though, to get back in time to start dinner. Poop. She'd parked her car in her assigned Raft parking space so that Trent could park in her apartment parking space. That was too much of a walk for her to get back here in time. It looked like schoolwork was going to win out. Unless...
Daria picked up the phone and punched in a number. She could hear it ringing in the next apartment. It was picked up midway through the second ring. "Hello?"
"Chuck, it's Daria. Want to check out a used bookstore with me?"
"I'd love to."
"Good. I'm having a bite of lunch. Knock on my door when you're ready to go. Oh, by the way, you're driving."
"Uh, right. See you in a few," Chuck said. A click and a dial tone came through the receiver. He stood there for a second, surprised, staring unfocused into space, then a more characteristic expression crept across his face. "Rrowrr, feisty!" Then, after leering lecherously into space for a few seconds, a different neuron fired. With a cry of "Mouthwash!" he scurried to the bathroom.
Less than fifty feet away, Daria sat at her breakfast bar, staring surprised at her phone. Did I just say that? Or did Quinn somehow take control of my vocal cords? I should call him back and apo-- uhh, no. Mustn't show weakness, especially not to him. I'll just have to brazen it out.
-o0o-
"So, are you looking for anything in particular?" Chuck asked as he drove.
"I was thinking about next quarter's textbooks, but I just generally like to check out bookstores. And there are so many in Boston."
"Ah, yes, I remember this about you. It was the first thing we found we had in common. It's even what we did on our first... dare I say... date?"
Daria smiled a little, remembering the day last summer when they'd driven into Baltimore and hit all the bookstores they could find . "Go ahead, I won't hit you. Not for that anyway. It was a date. A nerdy date, but a date nonetheless."
Chuck's face fell. "Nerdy? You didn't have a good time? But I thought..."
"Sure I had a good time. I'm a nerd. Nerds love books."
He cast a couple of quick sideways glances her way. Detecting no evidence of mockery in her smile, he smiled too.
-o0o-
In the bookstore, Chuck looked up from his perusal of the action/adventure shelves to keep track of Daria's current location.
He saw her nearby, rapidly scanning bookshelves as if she were merely looking for a book of a particular color. But I'll bet twenty bucks she's reading every title, he thought as he headed toward her. Suddenly her face lit up with pleasure and she stretched to reach two large ornate paperback books on a high shelf. Seeing her like that made him ache.
She was examining her treasures as he approached. "Find something?" he asked.
"I'll say. Both volumes of the Norton Anthology of World Literature, for only five dollars each! They're seventy-five dollars at the campus bookstore, sixty-seven fifty on Amazon," she replied, her semi-monotone delivery failing to hide her excitement.
"Seventy-five dollars for paperbacks? That's outrageous!" he hazarded, unsure how best to respond.
"Not considering what's in them," she replied, handing him the first volume.
He took it and began to flip through it. "This is printed on bible paper." He turned to the last page. "Good grief, this book has over two thousand pages!"
"Volume one covers ancient, medeival, and renaissance literature. It's a required textbook for at least three classes that I know of. It's the equivalent of a whole shelf full of normally printed books."
"Huh. Look at this. It starts with Genesis and ends with Milton's Paradise Lost."
Daria was examining the other volume. "This one covers the Enlightenment to the Twentieth Century, and it's even bigger. I've wanted a set of these for years." She ran a hand caressingly over the fine paper.
"But all your textbooks are paid for. Aren't you going to get a set of new hardcovers? I would."
Daria closed the massive paperback, gazing at it with regret. "Yeah, I guess. Damn, that takes a lot of the fun out of bargain hunting. I guess I should leave them for someone else to find, someone who needs a bargain." She started to lift it back up to the shelf whence she'd gotten it. "Like Abigail Carter. She'll be in my Ancient Lit class next quarter, and she's having a hard time making ends meet."
"So you're going to tell her about these so she can come down here and get them?"
"Yeah, I... come to think of it, that'd be silly. I'll save her the trip and make sure someone else doesn't get them first. I'll buy them for her."
Charles watched fascinated as the delighted smile returned to Daria's face. He'd bet a lot that she had no idea how beautiful she was when she smiled like that. She might not even realize she was smiling. He grasped a corner of the book she was holding and lifted slightly. "Allow me."
The look she gave him was puzzled and slightly hostile for a fraction of a second, then she realized that he was offering to carry it for her. She released it with a small, shy smile. "Thanks," she said.
She's not used to having guys carry her books. That's almost a crime. On the other hand, better for me.
Daria went back to scanning the titles on the shelves at that incredible rate. Damn, he thought, watching her, I wish I could read half that fast. He looked down at the ponderous volumes in his hands. I be she could almost read one of these in one sitting.
-o0o-
Later, Daria and Chuck munched bean cakes they'd bought at an oriental snack shop on their way back to his car.
"Hm. Not as sweet as the pastry I'm used to, but not bad. If they'd sweeten those beans a little more…" Chuck mused.
"I don't think they sweeten them at all," Daria said. "A Chinese woman told me the beans are naturally sweet. She said that, in China, they make a sort of ice cream out of them, too."
Chuck considered that. "Chinese sweet black bean ice cream. I'd really like to try that, if only out of curiosity." They walked a few steps in silence, then he sighed deeply.
Daria looked askance at him. "Penny for your melancholic thoughts."
"I was just thinking of those three long years of high school when we could have been doing things like this."
"That's silly. There was no place in Lawndale that sold Chinese black bean cakes."
He smiled wryly. "You know I've long wanted to take you out, Daria. I don't remember how many times I asked you out in high school, but you always said no."
"Just like every other girl in school?"
"Pretty much. But I think I asked you more times than all the others put together."
"But it was always pretty much the same invitation. Dinner at a fancy restaurant, then some sexy movie or something from your video collection at your house."
"What's wrong with that?"
"It's just not my idea of a first date. It's the kind of date that's obviously calculated to end up in the sack."
He thought about that for a minute, then asked, "Well, what sort of invitation would you have accepted for a first date?"
Daria looked off toward the horizon, then said, "Something less… threatening. Something less fraught with carnal intent. Something less… datelike."
He looked puzzled. "An un-datelike date?"
"Yeah. Remember the night we met?"
A deer-in-the-headlights look came over Chuck's face. He sensed a trap. "Uhhh…"
It was all Daria could do to keep from grinning. It was so tempting to torture him, but some part of her protested that that would be a girly thing to do. She decided to let him off the hook.
"At Brittany's party. You offered me and Jane a tour of the house. We accepted. Afterward, you spotted us at the Crewe Neck gatehouse and offered us a ride home. We accepted. No pressure. We talked. It was… not unpleasant."
Chuck looked thoughtful. "Yeah. Looking back on it, that was actually one of the high water marks of my high school social life. I guess I didn't top that till I started teaching Stacy magic. But those weren't dates."
"So? You're too hung up on the 'date' concept. There are other ways of relating to girls."
"I've tried other ways. I've tried all the ways I could think of."
"You mean like that brilliant tactic you used on the trip to the Mall of the Millennium? When you shoved your dad's gold card in our faces and wanted us to model bikinis for you? Gee, I can't imagine why we weren't just all over that one."
"All right, maybe that was… less than subtle. But how about that medieval faire thing, when I was a minstrel. I thought maybe singing romantic ballads to the ladies would spark some interest…"
Daria gave him a look, then burst out laughing.
"Well, what was wrong with that?"
Daria smothered another snicker and said, "It was that court jester costume. Could you possibly have looked more gay?"
"Well, I'm glad my humiliation brings a smile to your sweet face," Chuck groused.
"Hey, at least you partially understand your role in life. You're ahead of a lot of guys your age."
"My cup runneth over. What's the rest of my role in life?"
"Opening stuck jar lids and appliance repair," Daria deadpanned.
"Wow. The future's so bright, I gotta wear shades. Seriously, though, what would you consider to be a good first date?" Chuck asked, looking at Daria.
Daria popped the last bite of bean cake into her mouth and munched thoughtfully. "Well, I'm far from an expert, but on the first few dates, I think the important thing is just talking and getting to know each other. There should be some sort of activity, something to get the conversation started if nothing else. I don't think the guy should spend a lot of money, because that sort of implies that the girl owes him something, and that would make me feel uncomfortable. Doing something together that both would have done anyway is good. For instance, going to a store."
"Now don't I feel like an idiot! If I'd played my cards right, I could've dated you."
Daria gave him a fishy look. "You sound suspiciously like you're forgetting that you did have a date with me."
Charles thought fast. "Oh, no, I could never forget that wonderful day we spent bookstore hopping, and sharing lunch and dinner, not to mention the drive to Baltimore and back, although I deeply regret that we never did it again. I meant that I might have had more dates with you."
Daria smiled a tiny smile. Nice save. "Never say never again."
Charles felt a double thrill, at Daria's playful use of the James Bond title and at the distinct implication that the brilliant bombshell was willing to go out with him again.
-o0o-
As she rode with Chuck back toward the apartments, Daria said, "So, I guess you're looking forward to Thanksgiving. Your Dad's still coming home, right?"
"He was the last I heard, but I'll expect him when I see him. He's got a lot of deals in the works, and stuff is always coming up."
"My mom's a workaholic too. Always bringing work home, never takes time off unless she's about to lose it."
"Be glad you have a mom. And I'd love for Dad to bring work home, instead of the work taking him to the ends of the earth."
"You never told me anything about your mom."
"She was great. She loved me very much, and I loved her. She died when I was eight."
"I'm sorry. And your dad never remarried?"
"No. He was pretty broken up when Mom died, and he threw himself into his work. In fact, he threw himself so well that his business was a worldwide empire within two years. After that, he never had time for a social life, and apparently he never met anyone through his work."
"Damn. And his businesses are all overseas?"
"Naah. He owns Lawndale Heavy Equipment and Lawndale Concrete, but he hardly ever has to look in on those. And anyplace he goes that's more than fifty miles away might as well be overseas. He'll phone or email sometimes, or send a message through an underling, but he won't drop by. It just doesn't occur to him. I just found out last month that he was in D. C. when we graduated last year. Said he was very busy, very important business, couldn't get away."
"Geez, that stinks. And I thought my family was dysfunctional."
"Daria, from what I've heard about your family and others, I'd have to say that yours is one of the least dysfunctional I know of."
"Now there's a genuinely scary thought. Well listen, that invitation to Thanksgiving dinner still stands. Jane's eating with us, and Mom always lays on enough to feed two platoons of marines."
Chuck pulled into his parking slot behind the apartment building and shut off the engine. "Thanks, Daria, but I hope I won't be able to take you up on it."
"Yeah, I hope not too," she said, reaching for the sack with her books in it. Grinnning, he snatched it before she could. She shrugged and got out her key to open the back door.
On the third floor, he waited as she found her apartment key. As she opened the door and took the books from him, he puckered up to kiss her.
Several possible actions flashed through Daria's mind. Knee him in the groin, slap his face, shove the books in between them so that he kissed the bag they were in, shout something like, "Hey! Whaddya think you're doing," explain to him logically why kissing would be inappropriate, duck inside quickly and put off dealing with the whole messy situation till later. Quick as a woodchuck down its burrow, she chose the last option and ducked under his protruding lips and into her apartment. "Thanks, Chuck, see you tomorrow," she said.
He opened his eyes to see Daria turning and pushing the door closed. Over her head, he saw Jane and that guy he was pretty sure was Jane's brother staring wide-eyed at him. Then the door closed and he was standing in the hallway, alone and feeling stupid.What had happened? This was their second date, wasn't it? He was supposed to get at least a kiss, wasn't he? What had he done wrong?
Chuck stared at the closed door and scratched his head, then turned for the short, lonesome walk to his small apartment at the end of the hall. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the door of apartment 302 was open a crack. He looked up just in time to see a thin strip of face with one staring eye before the door closed. Wonderful. That makes three unwanted witnesses to my being shot down, he thought as he trudged off. It'll probably show up on Funniest Home Videos next week.
Inside her apartment, Daria was faced with twin smirks from Jane and Trent. "Ooh, hot date, huh? Did you let him get any?" Jane asked.
"I'm gonna let you get some right upside the head," Daria shot back, "and then I'll leave your unconscious form outside his door and let him get that."
Jane grinned. "Oh, Daria, you're such a tease. You get 'em all hot and bothered and then you leave 'em for others to deal with. Now, if you'd do that with Crusher, I might not mind."
Trent was recovering from a laughing/coughing fit. "One of you two is a bad influence on the other one. I'm just not sure which one."
"It's definitely Jane," Daria groused. "She's going to get me in a lot of trouble one day when I kill her."
"Hee hee! So what were you two doing that got him all in the mood, anyway?" Jane asked.
"Not a thing! We just went to a used bookstore," Daria said, holding up her purchases.
"And?"
"And nothing. We ate a bean cake and talked a little."
"About?"
"Oh, about how few dates he had in high school, and what he might have done differently and... oh, crap."
"Aha! 'Not a thing,' eh? Ri-i-ight."
"Hell, I was just giving him some basic, generalized dating advice from a female perspective."
"Which he probably interpreted as specific 'what you like to do on a date' advice," Trent said.
"Dammit, I cannot have him trying to date me!"
"Would it be all that bad?"
Daria sighed. "Yes, it would. I'm supposed to be his friend, his advisor, his tutor if need be. That's what my scholarship's for. That's why his dad's paying for this apartment. As long as he's making satisfactory progress at Raft, my education is paid for. But a dating relationship is unstable by its very nature. It'll either progress to something more serious, or we'll break up. Either way, it'll screw up the friend-advisor relationship, and my college career with it."
"Oh. Bummer."
"Well, you're just gonna have to explain it to him, Daria," Jane said. "He's a smart kid. He'll understand."
"Yeah, I guess. But I'm going to take my time and figure out just what to say, and just how to say it."