DANCING ON THE TUNDRA by Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.
CHAPTER V
The room was empty and appeared positively sterile with its white painted walls of cement blocks. The wall opposite the door had a large row of windows that looked out on a construction sight just next door. Under the windows were two identical desks with two identical desk chairs. On the wall beside the door and opposite the windows were two narrow closets with louvered metal doors that folded in the middle to open. The closets were separated by a built in unit of four drawers and a narrow counter top backed by a dirty mirror. The only other furniture in the room was a large, conspicuous structure of black metal that held two incredibly thin looking mattresses in the tandem arrangement of bunk beds.
Terry sat his bags down just inside the door and stepped to the windows to look out at the depressing view of torn earth and poured concrete. He took a deep breath and thought about his situation. This was the first time he had ever been away from home other than short, overnight trips on speech contests. Now here he stood with packed luggage, his parents already well on the way driving home. He wasn't sure if he wanted to sing or cry. The bitter taste of home sickness was warring with the sweet elation of freedom he felt at finally being on his own. Terry took another deep breath and turned back to his luggage to begin unpacking.
An hour later everything was neatly stored in drawers and one of the closets. Books were arranged on a desk and the top bunk had been made up with the sheets, blanket and pillow case that were carefully folded and lying there when he came in. Terry realized that most people would want the bottom bunk and by rights it should belong to the first person in the room, but he deliberately selected the top. Terry had never slept in bunk beds before, but the idea of climbing into the lofty bed somehow appealed to him.
Once everything was situated in the room he decided he should go out and investigate his surroundings. There was quite a bit of noise and commotion going on in the narrow dorm hallway as the occupants of other rooms moved in, dragging suitcases and stereo equipment behind them. At the far end Terry noticed a heavy set boy with short brown hair and dark rimmed glasses leaning against the wall. The boy looked as lost as Terry felt, so he wandered down the hall in that direction.
"Hi," the kid said as he saw Terry approach. "I'm Brent Miller."
"Terry Michaelson," Terry responded reaching out to shake hands.
The boy peered warily at him then slowly took his hand in a nervous, tentative clasp. "My roommate hasn't shown up yet," he added to fill in the silence that developed.
"Mine, neither," Terry responded and wondered how he could excuse himself to run back to his room and shut the door. He was suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the situation, the fear of meeting new people and learning new patterns of behavior.
"You want to go get some dinner?" the boy asked.
"Yeah, okay. Let me grab my wallet and keys." He ran down the crowded hall and retrieved his belongings, then closed and locked the door to his room. Returning he found his new friend waiting on the stairs. They walked down the three flights to the ground and headed across campus to the student union in search of the cafeteria. As they walked, Brent told Terry he came from a tiny rural community upstate. He was an English major and planned to teach high school. Terry replied by telling a little about himself, including his major in theatre and performing arts. They soon found themselves having dinner in the union cafeteria and complaining about the food. It turned out that Brent, too, was a Catholic so they made plans to attend Mass the next day, Sunday, which was celebrated in a lecture hall on campus.
After dinner Terry went back to Brent's room where they sat and talked until late into the night. "I guess I should go back to my room," Terry finally said, trying to stifle a yawn.
"Did you ever use to sleep over at a friend's house?" Brent asked quickly.
"Well, sure," Terry lied. He didn't want to admit that he never really had any friends except Paula. He wondered how she was getting on at the other big state university.
"You want to spend the night? I mean you don't have a roommate yet and neither do I."
"Okay," Terry agreed readily. He was relieved at the prospect of not having to sleep all alone in a strange room. Even more so, it was a novelty to have a friend who would extend such an invitation. "Let me go get my pajamas."
Brent looked at him with wide eyes. "You sleep in pajamas? Gee, I've always just slept in my underwear." Terry explained that the pajamas were actually his mother's idea. She thought it would be what other boys wore. The two of them stripped down and climbed into the beds, Terry again taking the top bunk. Again they resumed their conversations until sleep finally overtook them.
The next day Terry and Brent attended a folk Mass on campus and enjoyed themselves thoroughly. The music, the singing, the sermon, everything seemed specially adapted to them. Terry had always hated Sundays. He hated having to get up early, dress in uncomfortable clothes and then sit, stand and kneel through a long, boring and irrelevant service. Now the Church seemed to come alive. He could understand the feeling of community that had always seemed lacking even in the Catholic grade and high school he had attended. It was a palpable sensation that filled the lecture hall and moved freely through the congregation. After Mass Terry felt truly renewed and invigorated. He talked Brent into walking downtown so they could get a Sunday meal in a local restaurant rather than again suffering the cafeteria.
That afternoon a pre-season football game was being held in the stadium just down from the dorm. Terry and Brent planned to attend with seven or eight of their new acquaintances from their floor. The whole experience was new to Terry. He felt totally accepted by the others. He was no longer 'Tutti, the misfit.' He was no longer different from the others. All those terrible things that had happened to him, the things he had brought on himself by his immoral thoughts and desires, they were gone, a part of the past to be forgotten and left buried beneath the ice of the tundra. As the afternoon began the group marched down to the stadium and were admitted by simply showing their ID cards. When Brent produced his card, the gate attendant refused him entrance. The ID had been improperly stamped when he paid his fees, so they could not admit him until he cleared the matter up with the business office. Brent was furious, but he had no choice but to turn back.
"Can't he just buy a ticket?" Terry asked the man at the gate.
"I'm not paying for something I should get for free," Brent exclaimed. "I'll see you guys after the game."
Terry stood in the gateway, uncertain of what to do. He wanted to go with the gang that had finally accepted him, but he felt badly for his new friend. "Let's go, Terry," one of the others called out as they headed for the stairs to the upper level of the concrete stadium structure.
"You go ahead. I'll see you later," he called back and fought his way against the crowd and back out of the gate. "Hey, Brent. Wait up."
Brent's face lit up as he saw his new friend. "You're going to give up the game?" he asked, slightly confused.
"I was only going because everybody else was," Terry explained. "I really don't even like football."
The two boys decided to take a walk instead. They walked off campus and downtown, then continued on to a little park about three miles from the university. They chatted about everything on the way, beginning with Terry's dislike of sports and Brent's allergies and ending with their concepts of God and man's place in the universe. At the park the two sat in swings and continued talking. "I don't mind watching a good game of baseball or football," Brent explained as they circled back to the subject of sports. "But I really don't like playing. I'm too fat to run. What I really like is roller skating."
"Roller skating?" Terry asked incredulously. He had to suppress a laugh at the thought of this chubby boy on wheels.
"Yeah, what's wrong with that?"
Terry suddenly grew quiet. "Nothing. I just never really thought of roller skating as a sport."
"So what about you?" Brent asked. "What's your secret passion?"
For a moment Terry grew pale, then quickly recovered. "I want to be a dancer."
"That's it!" Brent said enthusiastically. "That's why you have such muscular legs for a guy who hates sports. I wondered about that." Terry blushed at the thought of his new friend examining his legs. He was wearing shorts after all, and he did look at other guys' legs, but he was sure no one else did such things. Maybe this was healthy after all.
The two friends had grown much closer in their shared experiences on their long walk. They were laughing and joking happily when they returned to the dorm to find that they each had a new roommate. The newcomers had moved in that afternoon.
Terry had written to Frances about seven times. She was a friend from home and he felt he could rely on her for continual correspondence. Besides, it made him feel 'normal' to brag about his beautiful girl friend. Other guys lost no time in dating young college co-eds and Terry felt the pressure to conform. His letters to Frances gave him that option until he received a reply in late September. She politely thanked him for his interest and asked him not to write again. She said she wanted to develop a relationship with someone who was more manly. Apparently, he did not fit into her preconceived image of a boy friend. On the same day he had received a letter from Paula as well. She told him all about the wonderful time she was having at Midstate U. This only served to deepen his depression.
Terry left his room and climbed the stairs to the Benny Meditation Room, a small library located on the sixth floor of the dorm. The room was comfortably furnished in plush leather couches and dark wood paneling. There were Bibles and other religious and inspirational books lining the low shelves on one wall. The light switch was on a dimmer so one could adjust it down for contemplation or up for reading. The few times Terry had wandered into the room it had always been deserted. Now he stood at the long windows on the west wall and watched the sunset over the girls dorms in a splash of russet and gold. He continued to stand at the window for hours, watching the street lights come on across the campus below.
The door opened and the lights flashed on to full intensity sealing the outside world in a blanket of blackness. "Here he is. I found him," a voice said. Terry turned to the door, blinking in the bright glare of the light. Todd, the math major from across the hall stood in the doorway. "Man, we thought maybe you killed yourself."
"I what?" Terry asked in surprise.
"Your roommate found your girlfriend's letter on your desk. He told us she dumped you, and when nobody knew where you were . . ."
"I'm okay," Terry said stiffly and headed out of the room and down the stairs.
He passed several others who had been searching for him. "Sorry about your girlfriend, man," "Tough break," and "Too bad about that Frances bitch," were expressions he heard as he made his way back to his room. He finally reached his destination and closed the door. His roommate was out, so Terry relaxed a bit. He was ready for an argument. Gary had no right to read his personal mail, even if it was lying face up in full view on his desk. Further Gary had no right to tell everyone about the contents of that letter. Terry was humiliated in front of all his new friends. He undressed, put out the lights and climbed into his bunk, trying to go to sleep and wipe out all the unpleasantness of the day.
Terry again tried to examine the day as he had so many times in the past. He thought about Frances and her letter. He thought her dumping him would hurt, but it didn't. He realized that he didn't really love her, or even like her that much, and he knew he didn't like her pushy father who was always trying to play matchmaker and slipping him money on the side. If anything, her letter saved him the trouble of breaking up with her. Still, his ego was bruised. As to his love life, he was now free to begin dating. That was the scary part. Frances was safe, a letter now and then to keep up appearances. He wasn't sure about actively dating a real girl. All the other guys seemed to have no problem, but he wasn't like the other guys.
Next Terry thought about Paula. He really missed her companionship. Even during most of their senior year when they weren't speaking, they still lived next door to each other. Now she was a hundred miles away and apparently enjoying her college immensely. Of course he wrote and told her much the same thing, but the truth was, he was lonely. He now had more friends than he had ever had before, but even so he felt oppressively alone. Paula might understand if only he could talk with her, see her, spend a long Saturday afternoon. Brent was a good friend but he wasn't the same. He didn't know what Terry had been through. He wasn't there after prom night. He couldn't sympathize like Paula.
The thought of Brent brought him back to his friends and companions in the dorm. They all seemed to accept him as he was, unlike the kids in high school who spent their time making fun of him. In fact most of the floor had been concerned and had been actively looking for him, fearing for his life. They worried that he might be depressed enough to suicide. The thought of killing himself over Frances brought a smile to his lips. The realization of the caring concern expressed by his new friends brought an inner warmth that caused his smile to broaden.
The suicide incident then reminded Terry of the letter and of Gary reading it. He couldn't see that maybe Gary was as concerned as the others. All he could see was that Gary had read his mail and told all of his friends that he had been dumped. The anger slowly cooled his inner warmth and his smile disappeared. He would confront Gary in the morning. This thought seemed to hover over him like a cloud as he finally drifted off the sleep.
Terry was dreaming and in his dreams he was in a western movie. Everything was shaded in black and white, a grey prairie stretching out to the horizon, a darker grey horse beneath him. He could feel the gentle, rocking motion as he rode across the prairie on his dark grey horse. At times when he looked down the horse beneath him seemed to be a huge naked man on all fours, then it would become a horse again. He became physically excited as he realized that he was only wearing his undershorts. Terry enjoyed the movement and sensations as he rode the horse that was occasionally a man. Suddenly there was a tremendous bump and he found himself lying on the ground. The dark grey horse rose up and transformed again to a naked man standing above him. "Now it's my turn to ride," the horse/man said. Terry felt the fear welling up as he struggled to get away from the creature. Everything seemed to fade away to darkness, everything except the rocking motion and the creature's voice. "Spread your legs wider," it whispered. "This bed is too narrow." The rocking movement bounced and jerked roughly, then the creature moaned as if it was in pain.
"Be quiet," the voice hissed. "You'll wake him up."
"If he doesn't wake up with all the shaking of this bed . . . oh, yeah."
Terry realized he was no longer dreaming. He was instantly aware of his surroundings. He was lying on his stomach in his bed in the darkness of the dorm room, but something was wrong. The bed was shaking, rocking back and forth as if it was riding the horse about which he had dreamed. He rose his head from the pillow trying to understand what was happening. Perhaps he was experiencing an earthquake. Then he heard other sounds, the squeak of springs from the bunk below and the heavy breathing of its occupant. Terry leaned out and looked down.
The light from a full moon came in through the open windows and cast an angular trapezoid of pale white on the scene below. Two bodies were moving rhythmically in the bunk beneath him. He could easily see the naked back and pumping hips of someone, presumably his roommate, as the boy had intercourse with someone beneath him. Terry was shocked into mute silence as he realized that Gary had brought a girl into their room and was having sex just below him in the lower bunk. Terry was embarrassed by the fact that they would do such a thing in the same room, essentially in the same bed since their movements had awakened him. He was further embarrassed that he'd caught them at it, and that he lay there watching.
Suddenly Gary tensed and a low moan of satisfaction filled the room. Terry pulled back, trying to pretend that none of this had happened. He prayed silently, begging for instant sleep. He didn't want to hear any more of their love making. But he did hear.
The bed shook as the lovers moved. "God, what a mess," Gary's voice said softly and then the two both began to giggle. "Let's go take a shower."
Terry couldn't believe the audacity. His roommate had brought a girl into their room after hours and had sex in his bunk while Terry was sleeping just above. Now he planned to sneak her to the communal bathrooms for a shower. Terry peaked out of slitted eyes as the two shadowy figures moved across the room. The door opened letting in a shaft of light from the hall. In the doorway Terry saw two men silhouetted before they slipped out, closing the door behind them.
Gary was a homo! He just had sex with another man! Terry's mind reeled at the thought. This was beyond belief. Terry knew such things were dirty and sinful, and usually violent, yet he had heard giggles. These two were doing this freely. They really must be perverted to have sex and enjoy it. At least he knew that although he might have had immoral desires, the sex was something he was forced to do. What had just happened in his room was wrong and it was sick.
Terry dropped back on the pillow, trying not to think of what had just happened. He wanted out of this awful place. He hadn't ever been homesick until now. He just wanted the comfort of his own room, and his parents just down the hall.
Another terrifying thought occurred to him. If Gary was a homo and if others knew, what would they think of Terry? He thought sure he had left the persecution behind in Springfield. He had friends here at college, something he had never had before. If they thought he was queer they might treat him the way the kids in high school had. They might pick on him and make fun of him. They might even force him to have sex, using his body.
The door opened and Gary entered the room alone. He silently crossed the room and slipped into his bunk. He tossed and turned for a bit, then eventually began to breathe in a steady, regular pattern. Quite some time later be began to snore softly, but Terry lay awake through all of this. Terry lay awake all night long trying to plan what he should do. Finally as the room began to lighten from the dawn outside the windows, Terry got up and quietly dressed. He went down the hall to Brent's room and tapped softly on the door. He had to repeat his knock several times before it was eventually answered.
"Terry, what's up?" Brent asked as he opened the door. He was still in his undershorts and his hair was standing up in several odd angles.
"I need to talk to you," Terry said quietly.
"Okay, I've got an early class anyway. Let me take a shower and get dressed. I'll meet you downstairs in the rec. room in a little while." He closed the door before Terry could protest.
About thirty minutes later Terry was telling Brent about the experience. He tried to cover his inner fears of association by expressing loathing and disgust for the unnatural act that had taken place in his room. He was really upset. He didn't know what to do, but he was sure he didn't want it to happen again. Brent suggested that Terry take the matter to Mother Barry. She was their house mother. It was her duty to take care of such things.
That very afternoon Terry found himself sitting in a rather sterile living room. Mother Barry had an apartment at one end of the first floor north wing. It was furnished with Spartan taste, a couple of chairs and a couch with one small coffee table in the center of the room of blue painted concrete blocks. The only real splash of color was a large print of abstract flowers hanging on one wall. Mother Barry herself was an imposing figure, which was probably how she won the job of house mother to the boy's dorm. She stood nearly six feet tall in her flat, orthopedic shoes and must have weighed close to 300 pounds. Her thick, masculine face was covered with what looked like a grey peach fuzz beard. Her severe grey hair pulled into a tight bun matched the coldness of her grey eyes.
The woman gestured for Terry to sit, then lowered her bulk onto the couch opposite him. "What's the problem?" she asked without preamble in a deep voice that matched her masculine appearance. Terry felt weak and foolish under her stony scrutiny, but he summoned up his courage and repeated the story. When he was finished he felt no sense of relief. The woman's face never changed once, not showing any signs of sympathy, understanding or encouragement. "So what do you want me to do about it?" she finally asked when a long pause made it obvious that Terry had completed his story.
He was stunned. He hadn't expected this kind of response. "I don't know," he fumbled. "Make them stop." She didn't respond but just kept staring at him. "Or . . . or maybe you could move me to a different room."
This was something the woman could apparently understand. She immediately began an explanation of how many students were housed on campus and how many rooms were available. She finished by standing up and escorting him to the hall. "I may be the house mother," she said in a gravelly voice, "but I'm not here to hold your hand or wipe your nose. It sounds like you've got a lot of growing up to do and getting along with others is one of the most important lessons you can learn here at Trusdale Hall." The door closed firmly behind him. Terry was no longer upset about the incident that had occurred in his room overnight. He was now angry with the old woman who obviously didn't care about the problems of her charges.