Justice

When we spent the Christmas' holiday at home our senior year, Lila woke up early and stumbled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Crossing into the den, her attention was drawn to the large homemade red stockings hanging from the chimney. Her reaction to seeing the stuffed stocking named 'Lila' in sparkly glitter, and most of the presents under the tree addressed to her from Santa, went unobserved.

All I know is that when I finally woke up, I went out to see a teary-eyed girlfriend fiercely hugging my mother on the sofa. When she got tired of that, all she had to do was turn in the other direction and get another hug from my dad. By the time we left to go back to school two days later, she was comfortable calling my parents, Mom and Dad.

I kept speculating how my mother was going to take this. She was such a nurturing soul. That was what drew her to nursing in the first place. She specialized in neonatal care, helping the most helpless beings in the world. She shed tears of happiness for each baby that survived; tears of sorrow for each that didn't.

How would she react when she found out? Should I tell her, or should I leave that for Lila? That heartbreak was at the least of my worries. The more important matters, were what about our marriage and relationship?

Counseling? Annulment? Separation? Divorce? What did I want? What did Lila want? What would we do with the baby? Custody and child support? God, what if she wanted an abortion? My brain was firing at light speed through each scenario and I was frustrated because I couldn't come up with a solution for a single one of them...My untouched beer wasn't helping at all as I continued staring at it.

It seemed as if my relationship with Lila was always fraught with complications, I thought wistfully back on our college days. I had been immediately attracted to this beautiful poised brunette in my first history class, sitting across the aisle in the lecture hall. Seventy individuals and the only person I focused on was her. So much so that I didn't hear the professor call my name repeatedly, making his seating chart. The class chuckled at me and she froze me with a look.

Four weeks from that initial disaster, somehow, I gathered the courage to ask her out. That despite all my attempts to say hi, or smile at her, or catch her eye being met with an icy disdain. At least, I found out her name when the professor called on her one day to answer a question.

"Excuse me, Lila," I stopped her while she gathered her books after class adjourned after a boring lecture on The War of the Roses. She turned and looked at me with studied indifference, as though I was a bug. "I was wondering if you'd like to go out this weekend?"

"I'm sorry," I could see her pause as she thought for my name, "Mike?" she said questioningly. "I'm not interested in going out with anyone right now," she flatly intoned.

"Perhaps, some other time," I suggested to her back as she walked down the steps out of the room. She didn't bother to respond.

I took solace in seeing that I seeing I wasn't alone. She rebuffed every male, and the four females that I knew of that asked her out, that freshman year. I persisted. I would say hello to her every morning in class until I was finally rewarded with; if it wasn't quite a smile, at least, it wasn't a grimace. Periodically, I would renew my offer of a date. Shot down every time.

As I said, I wasn't the only one getting shot down. Lawrence Addington IV, a first class rich prick if ever there was one, kept chasing after her, also, and with the same history of failures as I experienced, but to hear him boast, he was getting three blowjobs a day from a bevy of campus beauties, including Lila.

That made it even more satisfying when one day she walked up to him before class started and slapped the cowboy shit out of him. He started cussing her out, and advancing on her when I intervened and blocked him from striking her. At that moment, the professor walked into the room and started his lecture. We all took our seats.

Lila was throwing pissed off death glares at Lawrence, and occasionally at me. Lawrence reciprocated the looks. I guess he faulted me for preventing him from approaching Lila.

The rest of the class ignored the professor droning on some obscure treaty and watched the participants as though a MMA match about to break out. When the bell rung, Lawrence approached her and I stopped him by putting my hand on his chest warning him, "Don't, dude!"

His lame attempt to push my hand away was easily rebuffed, and he swallowed hard when he saw I wouldn't tolerate any abuse by him. He made up some bullshit remarks and retreated out of the room. That allowed me to turn around and walk into a buzzsaw.

"Did I ASK you for any help?" The frigid contempt of her voice matched the ice queen countenance on her face.

I hesitantly replied, "No."

"Then in the future, kindly keep out of my business!" With that, she stalked away from me. I watched, transfixed by the furious swaying of her buttocks as she stormed away. God help me had she turned and realized what I was doing.

So, college life continued, I focused on my business major and Lila, apparently, was in some computer tech field. The chances of attending the same classes were slim after our freshman year.

I decided not to pine away, and dated an extensive number of girls. I let them know I wasn't looking for any serious relationships and only had a few times when a particular girl wanted to take it to the next level. That was basically the gist of my shallow existence, when one unexpected rainy afternoon I made a run for it to the student's parking lot.

As I tried to outrun the thunderstorm, I had my keys out to quickly unlock the door and get into my clunker. I had my jacket covering my head in an effort not to get drenched. Just as I approached the row my car was located in, I glanced over to the side.

There was a girl behind a car that was even in worse shape than mine was. She was trying to loosen the first lug nut on the wheel of her flat tire. The car was jacked up and swaying precariously from her efforts. One wrong move would bring the car slipping off the jack and crashing down, possibly harming her.

I could only blame my 'help the damsel in distress' gene, hardwired in my DNA. I went over to her as she grunted from her unsuccessful efforts to break loose the tension holding the nut firmly fixed to the wheel.

"Excuse me. It looks like you could use some help," I ventured to the hapless would-be mechanic.

She turned from her kneeling position, drenched to the bone. It was Lila. She was wearing a white t-shirt that had soaked through. Her prominent attributes were clearly visible through the transparent cloth, and the coldness had her nipples standing out in their perky glory. My eyes naturally drifted to glimpse them before I could will myself to return my gaze to Lila's face.

I hadn't fooled her. She saw where my eyes had been seconds ago, and she was not pleased. She was obviously pissed at her situation, and I hadn't helped matters. She swiveled to obstruct my view of her torso and yanked again on the lug wrench.

"No, I don't need any help, especially from you!"

With that, she jerked again on the lug wrench, trying her best to get the lug nut off. The car moved dangerously with her efforts.

"Lila," I warned, "You are working at a disadvantage having the car jacked up before you loosen the lug nuts. You can't get the needed torque to get the lug nuts loose. You need to lower the jack until the car is back on the ground, then loosen the lug nuts, and then jack the car up so you can remove the wheel."

"It would also help if you have your spare ready to be attached instead of being in your raised car. That will make it harder for you to remove the spare from the trunk."

"I can do this on my own!" she proclaimed.

"I'm not saying you can't." I responded, in as a non-threatening manner as I could muster. "Look, I'm going to stay here to make sure you don't hurt yourself whether you like it or not. It doesn't make sense that both of us get drenched to the bone while you fix the flat. You are obviously chilled, now. Why don't you go to my car, get inside and get warm while I take care of this?" I held my keys out to her and motioned to my car.

For a second I thought she would reject my offer, but with a huff she straightened up, grabbed my keys and ran to my car. Again, I briefly enjoyed the sight of delightful sway of her ass in her jeans.

I turned and lowered the jack, got the spare out of the trunk and bounced it to make sure it held pressure. It was as threadbare as the tire it was replacing. I would have to warn Lila about that.

I started to take care of the lug nuts. I grunted from the effort of trying to loosen the rusted nuts on the wheel. As much exertion as I was having to do, it would have been insurmountable for Lila. Finally, with protesting screech, the rusty lug nuts broke loose and turned freely on the thread. I raised the jack as quickly as I could, removed the nuts, removed the flat tire, replaced it with the spare, tightened the lug nuts back on, lowered the jack, and, a final tightening of the nuts with the wrench.

By this time, I was shivering from the cold rain. I opted to throw everything in the trunk of Lila's car and I slammed the lid. I ran huddled to my car, as though that would help my situation. Lila sat behind the wheel of my car as it idled, her angelic eyes closed as she listened to the car radio. I almost considered just standing there watching her.

I knocked on the window and her eyes flew open. Her gaze searched around in the unfamiliar vehicle until she looked at me. Her arms instinctively crossed her chest to prevent my observation.

She unlocked the door and opened it. As she was climbing out of the seat, I told her, "Lila, grab my umbrella from the passenger seat. No use in you getting wet again. At least somebody should get some use out of it today," I joshed.

She opened the proffered umbrella before climbing out. Briefly, we stood huddled close from the storm.

"Thank you, Mike. I'll return it to you tomorrow." She said.

"Don't worry about that, Lila. Are you headed home?" I asked.

She stiffened from my question. The gratitude in her eyes shifted to a wary look. "Yes, why do you ask?" She cautiously wondered.

"Your spare isn't in much better shape than your flat tire," I informed her. "I'd feel better following you home to make sure that you didn't run into any more trouble."

"No!" She emphatically pronounced. "There isn't any need of you following me home!" the finality of her tone left no doubt that she was refusing any other assistance from me. I watched her go to her car and climb in. Meanwhile, I sat behind the wheel of my car and watched her drive off.

In a few seconds, I put my car in gear and trailed after her discreetly. I continued trailing her until she pulled off the street in front of a shoddy apartment duplex. As I drove past, I saw her eyes open wide as she discovered my treachery at refusing to obey her orders. Her pissed off look left no doubt that the next time I saw her, it wasn't going to be pleasant for me.

I didn't see her for a month after that. As I said, we rarely saw each other on campus as we focused on our respective studies. Then one day, I was sitting on the campus grounds enjoying a very pleasant spring afternoon eating an apple as I peered into my iPad at some materials a professor posted online.

My concentration was broken as a shadow fell over me. I looked up to see Lila towering over me. Her sour glare did not bode well for me.

"Hi, Lila, how are you?" I ventured my cordial gambit.

"I told you not to follow me. How dare you do that! You are just like every other man I ever known! You can't trust a damn single one of you!"

I sighed as I continued to listen to her steady denunciations and declarations against the entire male gender of the species. Finally, she began running out of steam.

"Lila?"

"What?" she demanded.

"Since that day, I fixed your flat, have you seen me in your neighborhood?"

"...Well, no." she responded.

"Have I mailed you anything? Sent you flowers? Sent you any kind of gift?" I was getting warmed up. "Have I tried to call you or contact you in any way? Have I gone through the student directory to send you an e-mail? Have I tried to friend you on Facebook, or follow you on Twitter? Have I shown any inclination that I wanted anything else to do with you? Stalked you in any way?" I asked.

"As you might now suspect the answer is no. All I ever did was try to be friendly to you and you've shot me down every time. That's fine. I helped you just because I thought you needed help when I changed your flat tire. I only followed you for the same reason. I don't know if I could ever trace my way back to your residence. I didn't have and I DON'T have any ulterior motive and I'm sorry you think otherwise. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to read this." I turned my attention back to my iPad.

She started walking off.

"Lila"

"What, Mike?"

"You still have my umbrella."

The next day I discovered my umbrella wrapped with a red bow pinned against my windshield wipers along with an unsigned card saying, 'I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you.' I looked around the parking lot, but I didn't see Lila. I decided to look at this as a sort of détente, not as any indication of attraction. We were now in our junior year. The semester dragged on until one day I was interrupted again by Lila.

"Hi, Mike. Do you have a minute?"

"Hi, Lila, what do you want?" My suspicions were raised by this unusual turn of events.

She hesitated, "I heard you took Professor Adam's class in Commercial Transactions."

"That's right, Lila." I waited for her to continue.

"Did she assign your class an essay analyzing business models using a treatise, "The Solution to Hodge's Conjecture by the Varonsky's Shift by Dr. Ben Stevens and Dr. James Reed?"

I inadvertently began laughing as I recalled that nightmare of a class, trying to make sense of the equation formula so far above my head.

"Yeah, somehow, I pulled a C plus out of that class, but don't ask me how!" I exclaimed.

"Well... that's just it. I am asking you how. I'm taking the class as a business elective. It's too late to drop the class, and next year I'm loaded down with core classes of my major. If I flunk this class, it will mess up my grade point average, I will have to wait an entire year to retake the class since it's only offered once a year!"

I disdained the opportunity to say, 'It sucks to be you'. to her. Instead, I just nodded and said, "I can see where that would be a problem for you." Damned if I didn't use my next breath to automatically say, "What can I do for you?"

While I castigated myself mentally, Lila latched on to me as a potential savior.

"Professor Adams has the reputation of being the hardest grader at the university. She once flunked out an entire class! Had I known what I was getting myself into, I would've got another elective but it's too late now." Lila groused.

"If I flunk, that means I'll have to wait an entire year and risk re-flunking the same class! I've only budgeted enough money for one more year of school. I can't risk not graduating. Can you help me?"

Sure enough, my fucking 'help the damsel in distress' gene kicked in again and I heard myself say, "Sure, Lila, I'll pull out my essay for you, and if you have any questions just give me a call."

As it turned out, there were a lot of calls. Some would last for nearly an hour as I tried to help Lila struggle through the complexities. To take her mind off the problem, we would lapse into other topics and slowly became aware of what similar tastes we shared.

One night, she invited me over to her place to help her study. "Let me give you the address," she said.

"Don't worry, Lila, I remember your place." I said.

"I thought you said you couldn't remember how to get to my place." I could only imagine the gotcha grin she had over the phone.

"What can I say, Lila. I lied." I heard her chuckle as I turned off the phone. When I got there, I noticed her apartment was decorated in Early American Collegiate Poverty. She was nervous and defensive as we settled in to study and I tried to explain to the best of my abilities what Professor Adam's was looking for in her assignment.

After an hour, Lila slumped to the floor and groaned, "I'll never understand this shit!" I slid off the couch as well and sat beside her.

"Lila, you got to understand only maybe 10 people in the whole world understand this shit. Dr. Adams is just pretending that she's one of them. Just take three business model examples; a successful model like Wal-Mart, an unsuccessful model like Blockbuster Video, and make a hypothetical business model and show how you would approach your business stratagem using the treatise."

I continued, "Make an argument, provide some data, cite plenty of sources and you'll pass the assignment and the course and you'll never have to worry about this, ever again."

With a rueful smile, she griped, "Easier said than done!" She wadded up a sheet of paper and lobbed it at my head playfully.

"Hey, if you're going to throw stuff at me, you ought to at least feed me," I protested.

"You can have anything you want as long as it's Ramen Noodles." she said.

"Really, that's all you've got?" I asked.

"That's all I can afford; between rent, bills, and tuition, I'm on a strict budget, which is why I have to pass this course," Lila answered. "That way I can get a good job and start my life."

"Can't you get help from your patents and ease off the pressure?"

Lila teared up, "My parents died when I was two, in a car crash. My uncles and aunts decided that it would be easier on them to put me in foster care. They did file a wrongful death suit supposedly on my behalf but they were the guardians of the estate. All that money got spent and I'll never collect a dime from any of them."

"The foster parents I had were in it for the State's money. They saw I was feed and clothed and went to school, but there were never any luxuries. I have been legally on my own since I turned eighteen. In reality, I've been on my own my entire life.

"At least, I got lucky and wasn't abused like a lot of kids are," she sniffled.

As I moved to her to hug her, I understood why she had always projected such a hard shell. She had to have some mental armor just to make it on a day-by-day existence. We just sat there as she softly sobbed away the night.

Things advanced in our relationship at a comfortable pace for her. I didn't want to move too quickly and risk harming our eggshell thin friendship. Her confidence in the assignment materials grew, the questions lessened and more personal items were substituted in their place.

I watched as she ran up to me across the campus yard, "Mike, I passed!" She waved a thick bound report over her head as she collided into me for a fierce hug. I looked at the report, "A minus! See, I knew you'd figure this stuff out!" I smiled at her.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she exclaimed, "How can I ever make this up to you?"

Well, that's simple, Lila. Just go out with me." I commented, holding her, watching her face.

The frown lines automatically appeared. Her hesitation told me that I wasn't going to get my wish. "Mike, can I do anything else?"

The pain of the rejection must have been clear on my face. She added, "Mike, you have to understand..."

"Lila, am I that reprehensible?" I interjected, "Am I that ugly or boring or stupid...Well, I must be stupid!" I answered my own question. "For going on three years, I just wanted to take you out on a date and you've refused me. For some reason, I thought the time we've been spending together made you realize that I'm not a bad person.