Back to School

"How nice. The fascist has a friend," he said looking at her. "You'd think someone your age would be a little smarter by now."

"Oh, really?" Claire shot back stinging from the reference to her age. "Why is it universities tout diversity in every form but thought? When it comes to diversity of opinion, people get angry or like you...sarcastic...when someone dares to challenge their point of view. Universities are some of the least diverse places in...America." She stressed the correct pronunciation of the word then continued to speak. "America's universities have become bastions of Group Think where students and faculty all march in lockstep. Or should I say 'goose step'?"

There were several 'Ooos!' as in 'we can't believe you said that' or 'you're gonna be in big trouble!'

"We have no trouble allowing differing points of view," Donaldson said smugly. "We just expect the people who hold them to be able to justify them. It'll be interesting to hear the two of you try and justify your Ayn-Rand-brand of fascism." He pointed to the cute guy's tee-shirt and added, "I know I can hardly wait."

As Cliff turned around the cute guy said, "This quote isn't from Ayn Rand—Cliff. And maybe you should do a little research before you start mouthing off by incorrectly calling freedom and liberty—fascism."

The professor's hands were trembling and Claire could see he wanted to lash out. He did his best to stay calm and in control by saying, "Just don't forget who assigns the grades around here—Benito," invoking Mussolini as he turned his back and returned to the front of the classroom.

"Wow! Intimidation by authority in the first ten minutes of class. How very...fascist of you—Cliff."

When the professor dismissed the class, Claire followed the guy with the tight fade out of class and caught up to him in the hall. "That was impressive," she told him. "And...ballsy."

"Oh, hi there, Claire. Yeah, so many of these dickhead professors are ideological clones. I was completely intimidated by them my first two years. I sat in class and never made a single comment. Then at some point in my junior year I realized they're just people like me who spent a whole lot of time going to school becoming thoroughly indoctrinated in order to get the letters 'PhD' after their name so they could turn around and indoctrinate other young, impressionable minds. Now I tear into them every time they start in on their predictable bullshit." He looked over at her and said, "My apologies."

"I've heard it before," she said with a smile. "I was the same way when I was your...."

"Age? It's okay. You can go ahead and say it. When you were my age—you did what?"

"Now it's my turn to apologize. I didn't mean to sound condescending. I was just stating a fact."

"No apology needed," he said. He changed the topic by saying, "Hey, I need a cup of coffee. Would you like one? My treat."

"Um...sure. But I can pay for my own," she told him truthfully.

"Feminist?" he said with a smile.

"Not really. I'm for equal pay and equal rights, but I like being a woman. I just meant that I'm capable of buying my own coffee."

"Suit yourself," he said still smiling.

They got their cups and sat down at a table when Claire said, "You've almost told me your name twice, but we've been rudely interrupted both times."

He laughed and said, "It's...."

"Oh, look! The two fascists are sitting together!" the girl with the purple hair and the nose ring said. "Maybe you could build a wall around it and enforce the borders with machine guns and land mines and barbed wire while you're at it."

Claire almost spewed her coffee but the guy didn't even flinch. "Shouldn't you be outside doing something you can do without having to think? You know, like holding up a protest sign and walking around in a circle? Just dry not to get any dizzier than you already are, okay?"

"Fuck you and your mother," she said snidely looking at Claire as she stormed off.

"Ouch!" Claire said wincing from the barb.

"Ouch? I'd wear that like a badge of honor. That ditz has reached the pinnacle of her sorry life. 'College senior' is the most important title she'll ever hold. And for the record, you don't look anything like my mother."

"Well thank you. I think," Claire said with a smile.

"It's definitely a compliment," he assured her. "I love my mom but I don't think she's hot."

This time Claire did spew her coffee. "Oh, my God! You did not just say that!" she said reaching for some napkins.

The guy laughed and said, "As you may have already noticed I tend to pretty much say whatever's on my mind—especially when it's the truth." He was still smiling or maybe even laughing at her when he said, "My name's Aidan—with an 'a'."

Claire finished cleaning up her mess and said, "Okay. Like Aidan Quinn. He's cute, too."

Aidan raised an eyebrow and said, "You did not just compare with a guy who's almost 60 years old."

In Claire's mind, Quinn was just a little older than her and she'd always thought he was very good looking. "Sorry?" she said raising her own eyebrows.

Aidan laughed and said, "It's fine. After I brought my mom into this by somehow comparing you to her, I suppose it's only fair you'd say something like that."

"Can we start over?" Claire said really hoping they could.

"Sure. Let's do that." He extended his hand and said, "I'm Aidan Lawton and no, I'm not from Oklahoma."

"Claire Dan...." She stopped in mid-sentence. "I'm just a few weeks away from my divorce being finalized and I've been Claire Daniels for the last twelve-plus years. I'm going back to my own name of Randall. I'm just not quite used to it again yet."

"Claire Randall. Pretty name for a beautiful woman. Works for me."

Claire was deeply distraught at having blushed at his compliment. She couldn't remember the last time that happened and being so aware of it only made it worse. She was waiting for him to pounce on it when he said, "So how do you propose we timeshare our book?"

Claire laughed before they discussed their class schedules and worked out a plan that was agreeable to both of them as they finished their coffee.

"Unfortunately, I have another class," he told her. "I've really enjoyed talking with you, Claire.

She smiled as he stood up to leave and said, "Same here, Aidan—with an 'a'."

"Guess I'll see you Thursday when we meet again in Chairman Mao's room."

Claire laughed again and told him, "I'd already nicknamed him Che Guevara, but Mao works for me."

"Maybe we can alternate names and days. He can be Mao on Tuesdays and Che on Thursdays."

"Bye, Aidan," she told him. "I enjoyed talking with you, too. And I'm really glad I have an ally in the war against diversity of thought around here."

He smiled and stuck his arm out straight in a kind of goodbye wave as he walked away.

As she watched him leave, it hit her that she was feeling something she hadn't felt in a really long time. She felt...happy. "When was the last time I felt that way?" she asked herself as she watched him leave.

She still couldn't muster up the gumption to wear her Ayn Rand tee-shirt on Thursday, but it had gotten chilly the night before and she knew that cooler weather was here to stay for another nine or even ten months. Having lived around Seattle her whole life she was used to the cold and the gray, but summers seemed to get shorter and shorter with each passing year. Time to break out the sweaters again until mid-June. Mid-June. Claire would finally be a college graduate by then. Unless of course, she stopped going to class until the day of the final exam.

She chose a navy-blue sweater to wear over a cute white blouse and pulled on a pair of her favorite jeans with some flats. She told herself she was only wearing the silver necklace and matching earrings because it looked nice with the darker material and for the most part she even believed herself.

There were no verbal battles that second day of class but 'Cliff' did assign the two of them to write a paper defending the 'Shrub Regime's' decision to invade Iraq. Aidan snorted when Donaldson gave them the assignment because like most Libertarians, he too, had disagreed with the administration's decision. But you couldn't tell these know-it-all professors anything—especially those with tenure. Then again, most of them with tenure didn't bother teaching classes. They spent all their time doing research and writing books and left the 'light work of teaching' to their graduate-student teaching assistants.

"This should be fun," Claire told Aidan as they sat down for coffee again. This time, she let him pay for it with the understanding that she'd pay for both of them the next time.

"It will be fun," he told her. "I've gotten pretty good at playing Devil's Advocate so we can really lay it on thick. As long as we support what we write, it doesn't really matter what we say to a Lefty like Cliffy. In his mind, unless you agree that America is a brutally fascist, imperialist nation built by a bunch of hypocritical white slaveowners, he'll think you're a....fascist."

Claire laughed and said, "You're absolutely right about Group Think on college campuses. Sure, there are students like us, and I'm sure there are even some rightwing conservatives too, but most kids just glom on to everything their professors tell them as though it came from some Oracle on high without ever bothering to question it."

"Exactly!" he replied. "America has faults. Plenty of them. But there's no freer place on earth to work and live yet these clowns think America is nothing but a nation founded by racist slave owners and hellbent on world domination."

"Right! Which is why we still own Germany and Japan," Claire chimed in.

That made Aidan laugh harder than she'd seen before which caused her to laugh.

"You're funny!" he said as she laughed. "And cute, too."

Claire's smile faded immediately and she suddenly felt very flustered. "Oh. Um...well, thank you. That's really sweet of you to say. I just...."

"Don't worry—Mom," he joked. "I'm not hitting on you. I'm just callin' 'em like I see 'em."

"Shit!" Claire thought to herself as she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks again.

Sensing her discomfort, Aidan pulled 'their' book out of his book bag and handed it to her. "Your turn," he told her. "You're a real lifesaver, by the way. Thanks for letting me read this."

Claire found it hard to look up at him so she took the book without doing so. "You're welcome," was all she could manage to say as she put in her own bag.

"So how do you want to collaborate on writing this work of fiction?" he asked as he sipped his coffee while the color drained from her cheeks.

"Good question," she replied. "I have another pressing issue on top of all the school-related stuff. I really need to find a part-time job—soon."

"What kind of job?" he asked finishing off his cup of coffee.

"Pretty much anything," she told him. "I just need a job."

"Can you lift furniture?" he asked her with a straight face.

"What?" Claire asked him hardly able to believe the question.

"Can you lift furniture?" he asked her again. He was trying not to laugh because Claire looked to be about 5'6" tall and just over a hundred pounds. He was also trying very hard not to stare at the two very nice mounds underneath her form-fitting sweater which was showcasing them rather nicely along with her very narrow waist. And that wasn't even counting that tight, round little ass of hers he'd notice several times already.

"What kind of a question is that?" she asked.

"I own a small furniture-moving company," he told her without any hint of bragging.

"No way!" she said with total disbelief.

"Way," he told her. "My best friend from high school and I moved my Aunt Millie's stuff—yes, her real name is Aunt Millie and no, I'm not making that up—after our senior year and she paid us for it. I talked my dad into helping me finance an old box-body truck for moving furniture and he agreed. He helped me start the company as an LLC and we got our logo painted on the side for free from a family friend, and I got my first real job a week later. Word of mouth brought two more and before I knew it, I hired a couple of guys part-time and we now have six full-time employees and three vehicles."

"That's amazing, Aidan! What's the name of your business?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" he asked setting the stage.

"Uh-oh. Does it have something to do with 'Murrica' or fascism?" she teased.

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. It's called 'College Hunks Move Your Junk.' And yes, I did think about the implications of telling people we move their 'junk' before settling on the name."

Claire felt the redness creep back up her neck as she tilted her head then nodded saying, "Very appropriate name."

"Now you're being mean," he told her. "It just came to me."

"Mean? How so? I was being sincere. After all, you are kind of...hunky."

Aidan couldn't help but laugh. "You're the best mom ever, Claire!" he said.

She stopped laughing and said, "That's getting old really fast." She realized what she'd just said and pointed a finger at him while saying, "If you say ONE word about getting old...."

"Who, me?" he said holding his hands up to profess his complete innocence. "I'd never say anything like that about you. Am I not the same guy who just called you a hottie?"

Claire smiled and said very sweetly, "Yes, you did. And I never told you but that really made my day. Going through this divorce has definitely taken its toll."

"I'll never understand it," Aidan said in reply.

"What? That being cheated on can kill your self-esteem?" she said feeling somewhat hurt.

"No. No! Nothing like that, Claire. I didn't mean it like that at all, and if it sounded that way, I'm sorry. What I meant was I'll never understand why any man who has such an incredibly beautiful wife would ever even think of cheating on her. That's all."

Claire felt the redness that had briefly subsided growing from her neck and spreading to her face again. "Oh," was the only word she could get out.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. She hadn't even looked back up at him after he explained what he'd meant.

"Yeah. Sure. I'm fine. I guess maybe some men just get tired of the woman they married and want a younger, prettier woman or something." She still hadn't looked up at him and she didn't think she could. She finished her coffee and set the cup down and when she did, he reached out and touched her hand.

"He may have found someone younger, but I promise you he couldn't have found someone prettier."

Claire's heart was pounding in her chest as his fingers gently touched hers. "You don't have to say things like that, Aidan. I'm doing better as each day passes so...."

"I didn't say it to make you feel better, Claire. I said it because it's the truth."

Suddenly, she felt like she was back in high school and all she wanted to do was get up and run away. Instead, she sat there and ran her thumb over the fingers of his hand as he did the same to hers. Neither of them spoke for several seconds. Claire finally said, "I suppose we should figure out how and when we're going to get together to work on this paper."

"Oh, right. Well, I uh...still live with my parents," he told her, "but you'd be welcome to come over anytime." Sensing that might be uncomfortable to her he quickly added, "Or we could just meet in the library which sounds a whole lot better."

"That does sound like a better idea," Claire said quietly. "Maybe we could do that tomorrow evening sometime?"

"Sorry. I can't," he told her. "We have a big move and I'm gonna have to help out for that one. I expect to be working from around 8am until at least 10pm."

"Oh, okay," Claire said, her voice returning to her. "Well, you could stop my place on Saturday or Sunday if that works for you." She finally looked at him and as their eyes met, she slowly pulled her hand back and put it in her lap.

"I'm working all day Saturday, too," he said, "but I'm free the entire day on Sunday. Just let me know what time. Oh—and where you live."

"I live on 108th Avenue in Bellevue," she told him.

"Ohh! Nice neighborhood. I moved someone just a few blocks east of there a month or so ago."

She gave him the house number then said, "It's way more house than I need and I'll probably end up selling it but for it's home and it's familiar so...."

"I understand," he told her. "So what time shall I stop by?"

Claire's heart was suddenly beating fast again when she said, "Well, I guess that depends. Do you just wanna study or do you want to maybe...."

Aidan smiled and said, "Claire? Are you propositioning me by any chance?"

Her face turned a bright red as she stammered, "I had no such intentions! I was simply going to ask you if you might like to have dinner first. That's all. You didn't need to 'go there', you know." She felt embarrassed because there was a part of her that was secretly thinking, maybe even hoping....

"I didn't mean to embarrass you, Claire. I'm really sorry. I like to kid around and...well, that was just plain inappropriate of me. Please forgive me. I wouldn't joke around if I didn't like you and the truth is I feel really comfortable around you and it kind of just slipped out. There's no excuse for it and it won't happen again."

"It's okay," she told him unable again to look over at him. "I'm probably just overly sensitive. I haven't...done this...in a really long time."

Aidan thought about saying, "Done what? Go to school and study with someone?" but left well enough alone. Instead he said, "Dinner sounds very nice. I'd like that. Can I bring anything?"

"No, that's okay," she told him. "It won't be anything fancy. I just thought it might be nice to you know...sit and talk for awhile." She forced herself to look at him again. She also forced a smile and told him, "Being kindred spirits and all, right?"

"Right," he said smiling back at her. "So...everything's okay? With us, I mean?"

"Us?" she said trying to regain her composure.

"No. Not 'us', I guess." He looked down at his watch like he was late for something and said, "You know what? I should probably get going."

"Oh, sure. Um...me, too," she said standing up at the same time he did. Her heart had stopped pounding and she was able to think more clearly and was already regretting having invited him to her home.

Just as she was about to walk away Aidan said, "Is there any chance I could get your phone number before I go? You know, just in case something comes up?"

"Oh, right. Sure, of course." She repeated it for him and he punched it into his phone.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to call you otherwise."

Claire smiled and told him, "No, of course not. I never thought you would," even as a part of her realized she wouldn't mind all that much if he did. "Oh, before I forget, how does six o'clock sound?"

"Perfect," he told her. "See you then."

They said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

Claire had been sleeping better since that first night before school started, but she'd been having two recurring dreams. One was the 'didn't-study' dream and the other was about Aidan. When she woke up Sunday morning, she lay there for a while thinking about the dream again. They were out on the beach somewhere warm and this big wave came crashing in on them out of nowhere. Just before it hit, he grabbed her to try and shield her from the blast. Then after it swept over them and receded, they were both undressed and he was not only on top of her but deep inside her. Each time it happened, she dreamed he was coming inside of her, as well, just as she herself was coming and then...she'd wake up. As she lay there, she realized she was wet. Very wet. Drenched in fact. "Crazy dreams," she mumbled as she threw the covers off and went to the bathroom to pee.