Week 9 - Mismatch

Hal was late getting to the health club again the following Saturday. Ace knew he had no right to get annoyed because he was never on time for anything himself. The truth was he was glad to have a hitting partner, even if Hal was someone he wouldn't normally buddy up with. He had a sense that Hal might be gay but he couldn't be sure and besides, what did it matter?

 

It didn't take long for Ace to open up his eyes once he got to Bradford College. It was the perfect school for him since he never was much of a student to begin with. The small, liberal arts campus was more like a prep school for thirteenth and fourteenth grade. Free from his hometown friends, he was now able to begin to interact with kids who came from new places and were very different from what he had grown up with in northern Virginia. There were less that five hundred students and there was no escaping each other on the small campus. The college was just across the Merrimack river, outside Haverhill, Massachusetts, near the New Hampshire border. The city was one in a string of dying, old mill towns that peppered the area in the early seventies. There was only one pub - Ronnie D's, just down the road from the main campus, that the kids could go to break the monotomy of seeing the same pale, faces in the dead of the New England winter. 

 

Many of the kids came from the typical homes of the privilege, especially the girls, who styled themselves in classic, preppy sweaters and colorful headbands. Ace soon discovered that it was these girls who were the best tennis players, no doubt from years of private lessons. But there were enough people from varied backgrounds to keep things interesting. There were two or three black men from a couple of small Africain countires and a couple more from the Caribbean. How they wound up at Bradford was something Ace never did understand. Across the hall lived Steve, a tall, guitar playing jewish kid who had a Bob Dylan vibe going on. Further down the hall, hidden behind a think cloud of marijuna smoke, were two bumpkins from Maine. Ace still fancied himself a jock. Afterall, he was a two sport, varsity letterman in high school and hadn't tried the demon weed yet. He saw what a wreck his older brother became after he started drinking and smoking and so he bought into much of the propaganda that had been thrown at him about how a couple of joints now would quickly turn someone into a heroin junky tomorrow. But he liked the "Maine-iacs" and thought they both had a pretty quick sense of humor and he enjoyed hanging out in their room. In time, he became more comfortable and eased his politics a bit.

 

Skip, however, was a new experience for Ace. The kid had to be gay. Ace never actually knew anyone who was gay. But Skip was what he figuered a gay guy would be like, so he was pretty sure he was right about his assesment. The funny thing was that Skip was very popular with the girls at school. Ace thought this was rather odd and he may have even been a tad jealous seeing so many of the cutiest and most popular babes gathered around "Skippy" as he held court at dinner at the large dinner table in the alcove that looked out over the campus green. Ace knew he would not like Skip.

 

There was nothing wrong with Skip. He was always well dressed, usually in a pair of pleated slacks and a rich, thick sweater. He did not have a single facial hair and his skin was perfect. Skip has his own single room which was just a few doors down from Ace's room. He kept to himself for the most part and did not bother with any of the shower room gags and antics that all the other boys pulled. Skip was neither shy nor outgoing and as a result most of the guys just left him alone.

 

English Lit was a bitch of a class for Ace. Desperate for help, he joined a study group even though he knew Skip would also be there . The little flit was funny and smart and popular. Ace was way out of his comfort zone and was sure he was not going to enjoy this group.  He considered himself a pretty macho guy. He used to play big time, high school football in Virginia on Friday nights under the lights. He had a serious girlfriend, was growing a mustache, and had a brother in the army over in Nam. And he was damn sure he was not going to be friends with a fag.

 

Ace quickly realized that Skip knew his shit. Somehow, he actually made T. S. Eliot's "The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock"  somewhat interesting or, at least, not painfully boring. Skip had taken a lot of notes which he shared willingly even though Ace had little to offer in return. Ace had to admit that, except for his soft voice and slightly effeminate mannerisms, there was really nothing that different about him. And, unlike most everyone else Ace knew, Skip did not seem interested in trying to judge him. Maybe, thought Ace, it was because Skip was constantly being judged by others his whole life. Skip is alright, thought Ace.

 

Hal and Ace hit for almost two hours. Both players were striking the ball better by the time they finished. It was a good workout. When they got outside they stood and talked for a few minutes. At first, they kept it simple; each of them describing how they started playing the sport and what kind of racquets they use. It was only ten O'clock but the parking lot was nearly empty. Ace knew that his wife and three children would all be asleep by now so he wasn't in any rush to get home. There was an all night supermarket next to the club and Hal  wanted something to eat. They strolled over, walking slowly now as their muscles stiffened and their bodies began to cool down. Ace was surprised when Hal headed for the produce section and picked up a large container of freshly cut, chilled fruit sections. Ace just assumed Hal would hit the chips and soda isle like most fat, lazy ass Americans. Hal is alright, thought Ace.

 

Since they both worked at the same place, it wasn't long before the conversation turned to their jobs and company politics. They both knew that if they were going to continue to play together then they would have to get it over with soon. They danced around the subject for a little longer, each of them hinting that they were cool and it would not be a problem. They paid for their energy drinks and fruit and ambled over to their where their cars were parked. The lot was poorly lit and they were both parked in the shadows.

 

Hal asked Ace, "You want to sit in my car for a few minutes while we finish this stuff?"

 

"Sure" Ace said, telling himself to be cool. 

 

We might as well get it over with now, Ace thought to himself. They climbed into the Jeep and Hal snapped on the radio and found an easy listening station. The club was closed now. They were alone. Hal looked at Ace and then asked him point blank.

 

"You ever smoke any weed?"