The Eyes and Ears of Love (7 page)

Bentley bows his head before the director, ashamed.  “No, sir.”

“Well then, let’s get started. Do you admit that you pled guilty to a DUI on May 30
th
at approximately 11:00 p.m.?”

“I do.” Bentley confirms, gazing at his feet.

“Do you admit that you have caused four thousand three hundred and sixty nine dollars in property damage?”

Bentley nods his head.

“Speak up Mr. Menichelli.”

He clears his throat, “Yes.”

“Do you admit that you were in fact wearing your basketball jersey with the university’s name on it while committing your DUI on school property?”

“I do.”

“Affirmative.” The director contemplates Bentley as he inspects his well-polished shoes, the same shoes he wore to Emily’s funeral. The director lets out a quick breath of air, “Bentley, the board is well aware of your predicament surrounding the night of the incident, but it doesn’t change the possibility of expulsion. You chose to commit a crime while representing this university on property, regardless of experiencing a loss in the family.” Bentley continues to stare at his shoes. “Do you want to be expelled, Bentley?”

Bentley shrugs his shoulders.

The director continues, “I mean, your grades from last semester reflect an obvious answer that you do not want to be here. You went from being an A and B student to a C and D student. But you did manage to keep your star athlete reputation. It appears most of your professors cut you a break because the university didn’t want to lose their star basketball player.”

He’s right, most of Bentley’s professors did cut him a break because those Cs and Ds should have been Fs. Around December is when Emily began getting really sick and basketball was the only thing that released aggression for him. While basketball didn’t involve thinking, schoolwork did. However, he didn’t think about trigonometry or biology, he thought about his dying sister and it killed him to think about her.

“But then you quit basketball in the middle of the season and stopped showing up to your classes altogether. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Bentley doesn’t reply. “Well,” he says, his voice softening. “Bentley, I am not going to expel you. I think you and your family suffered a significant loss and you made a lapse in judgement. I too, have lost someone dear in my life. It’s difficult, but you find consolidation in your church, or a counselor, not in the comfort of alcohol. I will not dismiss you from punishment.” He rubs the inner corners of his eyes. “Every night at nine, you are to perform janitorial duties at the school under Janitor Nicholas Murphy’s discretion. You are to show up on time every night for sixty days starting on the first day of school. I will check in with Janitor Murphy weekly. If any problems emerge, you will be expelled. Is that understood Bentley?”

Bentley nods.

“You will also agree to establish a payment plan, and adhere to that plan, to address the damages you have caused. You are free to leave.” The director raises his hand to the door.

The next two weeks pass as Bentley spends it in bed, avoiding all communication from the outside world. He avoids television, the internet, and especially his cell phone. He’s kept it shut off the entire summer.

He hasn’t seen his friends since the funeral and he doesn’t plan to see or hang out with them at school either.

***

On the first day of classes, Dorothy dallies through the quiet campus on the morning of her first class of culinary arts, she arrives twenty minutes early, gas station coffee in hand. A man enters the classroom immediately following her.

“Early bird, huh?” a deep voice asks from behind.

Dorothy turns around and looks up at the man, arching her eyebrows. He’s tall, dressed in a fine tan sweater vest and white shirt, with chestnut brown hair and intense, overbearing prescription glasses. He stares astutely with hazel eyes and finally waves his hand in front of her face, as if to wake her up. She sees a shiny gold wedding band on his finger, and she immediately snaps out of it. It takes her a moment to find her voice.

“I'm Dorothy,” she says.

“Dorothy? I haven't heard that name since I was a kid! I'm Professor Bloomington. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” He extends his hand.

“Wait, you’re my professor?” Dorothy asks, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” he laughs. “Sorry to…disappoint you?”

“No, it’s just you look like a student.” He glances down at what he’s wearing.

“Darn. And I thought I dressed professional today.”

“You do!” she says, flustered. “You just look so young!”

“Ah yes! I get that a lot.”

She blinks at him, still trying to put it together. “I don’t think the coffee’s kicked in yet,” she says. “Sorry I’m so out of it. I was nervous about classes today and it kept me up all night so now I’ll be zoning out all day,” she attempts to explain. She takes a gulp from the disposable cup.

“I know exactly how you feel. My wife and I just had a baby so nights have been tough!” “Congratulations!”

“Thank you! It’s our first child. He’s three months old today.”

“Wow!”

Students begin to walk in and take their seats.

“Well if you ever have any questions or concerns, don’t hesitate to ask or see me after class,” he insists as he turns to walk to the front of the classroom.

Dorothy says nothing and finds a seat.

Within minutes the entire room fills. It must have over a hundred students in the lecture hall.

“Good morning! Welcome to your first class of the semester. Today is going to be a really informative day…”

He is interrupted by a loud-mouth student coming in late. She is a petite girl with long jet black hair. Her colossal brown eyes widen with glee when she sees Mr. Bloomington. She bites her lip. Dorothy also bites her lip: clearly, she’s not the only student with a crush.

“Please tell me you are my professor?” She queries in front of the entire class as most of them burst with laughter, acknowledging her bluntness.

“Yes. Please take a seat.”

Dorothy looks to see that the desk next to her is available. She throws her textbook on top to camouflage the seat as occupied. She doesn’t want this girl sitting next to her because she seems to like trouble. But she watches as the girl’s eyes light up seeing an empty chair next to Dorothy.

“Hi there, gorgeous!” she says to Dorothy, while Mr. Bloomington is talking.

Dorothy flashes a perfunctory smile, then protrudes her lips to discretely shush her.

“What did I miss?”

Dorothy shakes her head.

“My name is Janessa.”

“Dorothy.”

Mr. Bloomington looks at Dorothy while shaking his head with obvious disappointment. She feels the blood rushing to her cheeks.
Should I find a new seat?
Dorothy asks herself.

Janessa leans back in her seat with her legs wide open and slams her hand on the desk. “How hot is our teacher?” she announces loudly.

“Shhh,” Dorothy gestures, aggravated.

“Oh, come on!” She elbows Dorothy’s arm. “He’s a dime!”

Dorothy erects her posture. “Fine. He’s good looking, yes. Now shut-up,” she says sternly.

“All right, both of you out of my class. If you want to talk while I am talking you can leave.” Professor Bloomington makes an example out of the girls by showing his firmness.

Dorothy’s face flushes and she’s in shock that the kind stranger she had met just a while ago is now kicking her out of his class. She feels the eyes of all students burning into her as she packs her things up. She and Janessa leave the classroom.

“Hey wait!” Janessa yells at her, starting to giggle. “So, what do you think crawled up his butt?” She laughs.

“What do you want?” Dorothy snarls.

“I’m sorry I got you kicked out,” she says, as Dorothy tries walking away from her. “I feel bad.”

“Yeah, you look real torn up,” Dorothy says, continuing to walk away.

Janessa grabs her arm. “Let me buy you a coffee to make up for it.”

“Thanks, but I already have my fuel.” She holds up the disposable cup in front of Janessa.

“That crappy coffee? Let me buy you a cup from Starbucks or the Coffee Hut.”

Dorothy taps her tongue on top of her mouth, not enjoying the aftertaste of her gas-station coffee. She looks at her watch: four more hours until her next class.

“Fine.”

They walk three blocks to the Coffee Hut and sit at the coffee bar. Dorothy orders a caramel macchiato and Janessa orders the same. 

“So where are you from?” Dorothy asks. She’s not stoked to chat with this girl, but as long as they were having coffee, she figures it doesn’t hurt to break the ice.

“Los Angeles! What about you?”

“Oregon.”

“We’re both far from home!”

“L.A. sounds like an exciting place to live.”

“Yah know, it has its moments,” said Janessa, smiling passively. She seems to be remembering something.”

“What do you mean?” asks Dorothy.

“Well, it would have been a fun place to go to college, for sure. I wanted to stay, actually. But I needed to get away from my mother, and Florida seemed like a reasonable distance.”

Dorothy takes a drink of her coffee to keep from blurting what she feels – Janessa, I think you might just be my new best friend. “Are you all settled in your dorm?”

“Definitely not! I just got here right before class so my car is still loaded.”

“I can help you.”

“Really?” she asks, pressing her hands flat on the table. “It wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“No, not at all!”

“Awesome! I’m in Arapahoe Hall. Room 23C.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. What? Is that a bad hall?” Janessa asks, slumping her shoulders.

“That’s my room!”

“Like the same hall?”

“The same room, Janessa. 23C!”

“We’re roommates?”

“I guess so!”

A girl with this much confidence who’s also estranged from her mother and enjoys cooking – Dorothy suddenly realizes she could have done far worse for a roommate.

At the end of the day Dorothy helps Janessa move into the dorm. The small amount of boxes is quickly overwhelmed by the pile of clothes in her trunk; too many to fit in one or two suitcases. While on her knees, Dorothy raises jean shorts from a box that could be mistaken for underwear. She tilts her head and scrunches her forehead.

“So who gets first dibs on Professor Bloom-me-any-day?” Janessa states, while unpacking a lacy black bra.

Dorothy shakes her head. “Don’t bother, he’s happily married.”

“Oh honey, the only happily married men are the ones getting a little extra ass on the side.”

Dorothy whips the shorts on the floor. “That’s not funny.”

“Alright,” Janessa adds hesitantly, “I’m sorry.”

Donna bursts into the bedroom with a girl Dorothy has never seen before. She takes a look at Janessa and says, “Oh, hey! I see your roommate finally showed. I’m Donna, Dorothy’s sister!”

“And I’m Janessa, Dorothy’s fine-ass roommate!”

“Cocky bitch! I like her!” Donna prompts.

“I’m Julie, Donna’s roommate!” she introduces herself to both Dorothy and Janessa.

Dorothy stands to her feet and rubs the carpet impressed pattern from her knees. “Nice to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!” Dorothy greets.

Julie was Donna’s roommate her first year and they decided to stay roommates for their second year as well. When Donna came home for birthdays and holidays she would tell stories about college, and some included Julie. Overall she seems like a nice girl, maybe a bit of a follower, how she clings on to Donna’s every movement.

“So we were going to go to the Karaoke Bar tonight! You two want to come?” Donna asks.

“I’m actually really tired, I didn’t sleep last night,” Dorothy says.

“Then you’ll sleep tomorrow!” Donna suggests.

“I have classes early.”

“I’ll go!” Janessa announces.

“Great!” Donna high-fives Janessa. “But Dorothy, you are going to miss out!”

“You’ll have more fun without me,” she insists.

Alone in her dorm, Dorothy spends time scanning through her bakery book for Professor Bloomington’s class. She comes across a brownie recipe that calls for both mint and caramel. She has never thought of using those two ingredients together. She’s itching to try this dessert. Without thinking she grabs her book and heads outside of the dorms over to the abandon and dark culinary wing on the other side of campus.

“Miss, miss!” A man yells as she walks down the dark hallway toward the kitchen.

“Yes?” She turns around to see an old man in a green, stained jumpsuit darting right at her.

“This wing is strictly closed off to students after eight.”

She looks down, disappointed, but looks back at him. “What if I promise to be out of here by ten?”