I Just Met a Girl Named Maria

Those of us at Canisius College who are residents, who dorm or live near campus, know well enough who are the commuters, especially on a winter’s day when we take the tunnels and endure classes in our jammies. The girl who sits in front of me in Willa Cather is a commuter. She always looks so showered and weather wise. This morning she still had flakes dusting her North Face parka and she smelled like cold. My sweatshirt was inside-out and I smelled like last night.

I know her name is Maria, that she went to St. Francis High School, and that she listens to U2. I know all this because it is advertised through buttons on her backpack. I know she commutes with some guy, but the guy is not her boyfriend because of their proximity to each other. He wants to be her boyfriend, this I can tell, but to her he’s just a friend. I know all this because I pay attention. I am not a stalker, like some serial killer who knows everything about a family and their routine by observing the decals on the back of their minivan: what kind of pet, where they vacation, how many miles they run; how many children, what sports the kids play, where the kids go to school and their honor roll status; Mom’s stay-at-home job, Dad’s Semper Fi, their Don’t Tread on Me warning.

I’d bet Maria drives the boy from some suburb in her newer-model Japanese import. I’d bet he works at The Gap and she is a receptionist at a dentist’s office. I have no foundation for any of this other than he looks gay and she has nice teeth. Also, enduring my 8:30 Willa Cather class gives me lots of time to think.

Being creatures of habit, we sit everyday in class where we sat the first day. Maria sat in front of me the first day, which I found intoxicating because there were other seats available in the classroom. Why’d she sit there? And, why’d she sit there every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday following? Because she’s a creature of habit? Or…because of proximity? Lots of ruminations going on in Willa Cather. Maria definitely had my attention, though, and you’d think that because of Maria I’d shower, maybe dress appropriately even occasionally, perhaps run some product through my hair before that 8:30; but unfortunately, the previous-night’s bar specials take precedence over next-day hygiene: late nights, and last-minute mornings, equating with ogling from afar and gathering intel should the opportunity ever arise,

as it did tonight at the track house. It was the Saturday night of our final meet and we were throwing a well-advertised kegger. It would be a night not to remember. The female talent pool was shallow as a) parties were generally attended by residents; b) the resident girl/guy ratio was 1:3; c) it was December, and we’d already been through the resident girls “with talent,” but none of this mattered because the party was just a prelude to the bar scene where lots of unexpected talent awaited. Naturally, there was showering and grooming to be done before the party, so I must have looked like a different guy when Maria, of all people, arrived with a small female gaggle, all looking uncomfortable and very out of place.

The opportunity had arisen, and I had my intel. I was also wearing my track jacket, which meant I had connections.

I also had competition, so I had to mark my territory.

“Hey Maria.” Probably not the best approach for someone claiming not to be a stalker. I might have started with, “Hey, you sit in front of me in Dompkowski’s class, right?” but I was banking on the eventual I’ve had a crush on you for some time now line, but I thought that guy you go to school with was your boyfriend even though I knew he wasn’t. I was already pretty well lubricated so none of the Words Designed to Swoon would sound that contrived. In my mind, I’d become well-rehearsed in drunk pick-up parlance.

“Umm…hi?” While she wanted to act afraid, she couldn’t pull it off. She’d already gotten cred and her friends were all about it, it was obvious. Ignoring her attempt at coy, I took her hand and said, “Follow me, ladies,” and I led them through the throng and straight to the keg, where, in Big Man on Campus fashion, I told Pete, a freshman who was wearing a sombrero and who was attempting clout by pouring beer, to take a hike. I took the nozzle and filled their four 16 oz cups with expert, precise, foamless pours. I then filled my own cup, and introduced myself to Maria’s friends.

“I sit behind Maria in Dompkowski’s Willa Cather class. She’s kind of a distraction.”

Yep. That’s all it took. Maria allowed me to take her hand as I walked the gaggle around, introducing them by name to the “who’s-who,” each who puffing out his chest a bit and neutralizing his tone and obsequiously pandering to the cute fresh faces, while the resident girls formed their circles, leered, and scoffed at the interlopers. I led Maria to the stereo and she and I browsed our vast array of CD’s. I picked up The Unforgettable Fire. “Great record.”

“You like U2?”

“Are you kidding?” I mean, I didn’t not like U2.

I pressed play and ten-dialed A Sort of Homecoming, and because this particular song was for some reason a Men’s Track favorite, I knew all the words, and I began singing into my thumb, eyes closed, with such passion, And you know it’s time to go/Through the sleet and driving snow, and knowing I had an audience in Maria, I took the unknown arm that had draped itself around my shoulders, and I turned my head as I sang into my thumb-mic, to harmonize closed-eyed with Brian, Across the fields of mourning to a light that’s in the distance; Brian, whose arm was still damp from his shower, or perhaps just silky from the baby oil he used to accentuate his ridiculously toned and Italian-dark torso which was, right now, accentuated by the very white towel that was tied just below the V from his carved abs and just above his shaved pelvic region.

Brian, who chose to shower after the party had begun just for such occasions, needed absolutely no intel or drunk-pickup parlance, but just an opportunity to flash his Roman manhood that completely eclipsed my own hygiene and Abercrombie flair.

“Who’s that?” Maria asked, in awe, as Brian strutted away.

“Him? Oh, that’s just Brian. He’s harmless. Here, look: we’ve also got The Joshua Tree.”

But, Maria was distracted. Where pre-Brian I had her rapt attention, her eyes mesmerized by my loquacity, my duende, her hand melted in mine in underclassman innocence; her uncomfortable questions used to fill the uncomfortable lulls, and rather pedestrian —Which Cather book do you like the best? How long have you liked U2? Do you like Abercrombie and Fitch?— for the primary purpose of keeping my attention, NOW, I was the jester, playing to regain hers. Brian had finally gone to his room to get dressed, and I used that as an opportunity to try to show her mine for no other purpose than to display my sensitive side, but I never should have started with, “Come to my room, I wanna show you my lizard.”

Geckos are adorable, don’t you think? Perhaps I should have started with that.

“Uh, no thanks.” She began then looking around. “Where’d the girls go?”

“Huh. I don’t know.” I too began looking around, pretending to be concerned for her. “Maybe out on the porch? Wanna go check? Here, let’s go check. I’ll walk you out there.” But before I could lead Maria out to the porch where many were huddled in the chill Buffalo frost, passing joints and pissing off the ledge, out came Brian. Fresh, clean, Tommy Bahama Brian, a Molson Canadian bottled beer in hand. So extra. Maria looked at her own 16 oz cup of cheap draft beer, and set it aside.

“Mind if I have one of those?” she asked Brian.

“Not at all; right this way.”

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Maria said to me.

“I’ll just wait here,” I said, not really thinking.

It was some time a little bit or much later that we were all at Mulligan’s Brick Bar. Some of us had taken a cab, a few had driven, who knows…it was cold, and getting home would be interesting, but that was then. We were waiting in line when I saw Maria and her friends. She bounded up and wrapped her arms around me.

“Why did you leave me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“At the party? You just left me.”

There was much steamy breath between us and she looked adorable in her winter hat and mittens, way too overdressed for the shoulder-to-shoulder body jam we were about to enter which said much about her experience. Despite the cold, everyone in line had either left their coats in the car, or at home. She pressed up next to me and buried her face in my chest. “Think you can get me in?”

I could definitely get her in. That wasn’t a problem. I knew the bouncers because I was from this city, and all I had to do was give a nod her way. Brian? He was not from here. He couldn’t have gotten her in. I looked around in where’s Brian? fashion.

“Where’s Brian?” I asked, purely as a rhetorical.

“Who cares?” Maria asked. “I came here to find you.”

“How’d you even get here?”

“I drove. I’ll drive you back later, if you want.” She tip-toed up, and kissed my cheek.

That was all it took. I nodded at Tommy, then nodded at her. He gave me a thumbs up and a smile.

“Where are your friends?” I now had to shout to be heard over Jane's Addiction: been caught stealin’, once, when I was five, and all the patrons shouting into their thumb mics.

She tip-toed up to shout in my ear, placing both hands on my shoulders. “They’re around, doen’t matter. I’m with you now. Will you buy me a drink?”

I looked down at her. “You know, I’ve had a crush on you for some time now. I’ve just thought that guy you go to school with is your boyfriend.” I shouted to be heard over when I want something and I don’t want to pay for it.

Maria flashed me an unbelievable smile. She really did have perfect teeth. “You buy me that drink, and tell me all about it.” I took her hand, and led her through the throng to the bar,

where Brian sat, singing into his thumb. I walked right, through the door. I walked right through the door. I flashed Brian a look, a superior look, an “I’ve Got Maria” look, and I put my arm around her waist and pulled her in,

but Brian didn’t even look up, just kept singing into that thumb, hey alright, if I get by. He then reached out, took Maria’s other hand, and offered her his thumb. She grabbed his hand, as if this were all choreographed, and they both sang into the thumb mic, it’s mine, mine all mine, LET’S GO. They then fell into each other’s embrace in laughter, and were swallowed up by the throng.

I felt a tug at my shirt, and turned. It was Diana, Maria’s friend. “You don’t know when to accept defeat, do you?” she shouted, and laughed over the din.

She then turned to the gaggle, and they all sang in their thumbs.