Picnics and Poetry

“Lets have a picnic!” Little did I know that this ordinary request would forever change my life. So of course I said yes. I was a young co-ed freshman at Cornell College in Mount Vernon, Iowa. I came to study Music, and after surviving my first Iowa winter, the first real day of spring beckoned us girls to soak up that fresh air and sunshine. So Becca gathered up a blanket, a basket and some boys to make it happen.

There were four girls, and four boys which made up our little group. Becca, my roommate, was a stunning, tall and gorgeous woman. Her soft braids bounced as she walked, and her brown eyes sparkled with delight. She always wore tight shirts that emphasized her assets, and jeans nearly painted on. She had an easy way about her, and it was a weekly occurrence that I had squeeze my eyes closed and pull my pillow around my ears to block out her nighttime activities with her latest man. I loved her immediately.

She invited Paula and Grace, from a few doors down from us. Paula was on the roller derby team. She was a sophomore, and her brown hair was always done up in twin pony tails, ending in pink clips. Paula wore sports bras when she could, and had a rough pair of black knee high cowboy boots. She was the first person I ever saw shotgun a beer.

Grace was a music major, just like me. She had beautiful red curls, which she for some reason wore in a single ponytail almost always. She wore loose clothing, sandals and typically had a pencil behind her ear that I never saw her write with. She was also covered in freckles, everywhere.

Paula had invited three guys, Jack Bremer, junior and captain of the lacrosse team; Harold Marks, archaeology major, and Matthew Laken, geology major. Becca invited William Fitz, an English major. Becca winked at me as we spread out the blanket, her intentions obvious. Jack was gorgeous, and had the eye of every girl at Cornell. Becca had a thing for athletes.

“C'mon guys, sit down with us!” Becca called the guys over, who were throwing a football around the grass in front of the gazebo, with the exception of William, who was writing in his notepad sitting on the gazebo steps. We laid down the blanket in the open, away from the trees flanking it, under the open cloudless blue sky.

“Harry, go long!” Jack threw the ball, and Harold deftly leaped over us on the blanket, catching the football in midair. Grace blushed, and rubbed her nose.

“I saw that Grace, you should just ask him out,” Becca smiled.

Grace looked sheepish, “What do you mean?”

“She means you are interested in him. Its pretty obvious.” I said. “But don’t think that you have to. Its better to let them come to you.”

Becca laughed. “And how is that working out for you Beverly? I haven’t seen you with one man yet this year.”

“I’m not beautiful like you Becca. I can’t just go and sit in a man’s lap and take him to bed.”

Paula leaned in to interrupt, “Give me one of those sandwiches.”

“Sure thing Paula. Do you have an opinion on this?” asked Becca.

Paula took a bite, and swallowed. “Should I? Its up to Grace if she wants to get laid. As for me, I would be more for Jack, but I would have to get in line.”

“Line starts with me ladies,” snickered Becca. Grace blushed again.

The three boys continued their football game. “What do you think of William?” I posited.

Becca smirked. “William, he seems dull and boring. Oh, wait a moment, that's Matthew. Who cares about rocks? William’s a poet. You want those words like Juliet got? You go for him.”

Paula took another bite, “He’s a bit off. He was drinking a whiskey on the rocks at the last party we were at, and he didn’t talk to anyone. But I heard from Jasmine who heard from her sister’s boyfriend’s brother’s best friend that he is very gifted in the locker room.”

Grace looked bewildered, “What does that mean?”

Becca grinned, “It means honey that he has a large cock.”

Grace looked even more confused, “Does it? I’ve never heard that.”

I jumped in. “Me neither. Look, why did he even come if he is just going to sit by himself over there. He could at least be playing with the boys.”

Paula finished the sandwich. “You got some beers in that cooler? Its getting a little warm out here.”

Becca nodded, and handed out a single Budweiser to each of us, and then the bottle opener. “Okay, I think its time for the football game to end.” She pulled off her shirt, exposing her green bikini top, with a floral print. It complemented her caramel skin beautifully, and had the desired effect. Harold and Matthew started to walk over the blanket, followed by Jack after he coaxed William off the gazebo.

I nodded to them, “Nice of you boys to join us. Have a sandwich and a beer. We were supposed to enjoy this day outside together.”

Jack smiled, “Quite right Beverly,” he stripped off his shirt, showing his perfectly bronzed and toned body. It was impossible to not feel butterflies. His strawberry blonde hair, his wide white smile, and the rippling pecs would have dropped me to the ground if I weren’t already sitting. Paula took a big swig of her Bud.

Jack sat down, and Becca immediately plopped herself next to him. “Great idea here ladies. Definitely needed to get outside today. Remind me, what are each of you studying?”

Becca immediately responded, “Well, I’m in Theater and Dance. And Paula over there is in Kinesiology. Bev is a music major.”

Jack smiled, and leaned forward so he could see Grace. “And you?”

Grace did not squeak at all, “Music too, Jack.”

I looked Jack’s eyes. “Do we really want to talk about school on a day like this?”

Jack laughed. “You are right. What should be talk about? Latest fashions out of Milan? Whose dating whom? Which professor will sleep with you for higher grades?” Harold and Matthew chuckled, while William put down his pencil and took a sip of his beer.

Becca cut in, “We can talk about whatever you want.”

I wasn’t going to let that pass. “Do you think that's what we talk about when you guys aren’t around?”

Jack smiled. “No, but I wanted to goose you girls a bit. You need to be a little less stuffy. Have you read any good books lately?”

I hadn’t, and I was hunting for a comeback when Grace chimed in, “I have. I am reading The Little Drummer Girl.”

Harold opened his mouth to make some snide comment, but Jack cut him off. “Really? Is it good?”

Grace’s wide grin bellied her excitement, “Oh yes, I have an interest in spy novels, and its a good one.”

Becca scoffed, and stood up. “Anyone need a sandwich?” Jack raised his hand, and she sat in his lap handing him the sandwich.

“How did your last game go?” Paula put her hands on her knees.

“Pretty good Paula. Northland is a tough team, but it was Matt here that saved us.”

Becca turned her head around to look at Jack. “Wait, all you guys play?”

Jack looked confused. “Yeah, haven’t you come to our games? I might be the captain, but I wouldn’t win many games with Harry and Matt here. I’ve tried to get Will to join us, but he’s pretty focused on his poems. Which have come in handy I must admit.”

“What do you mean Jack?” I wondered.

“He means that on occasion his good looks and natural charm aren’t enough, so he needs a few crafted words to get the job done.” It was the first time we had heard William speak.

“Brawn not brains, Jack,” Becca laughed.

“I guess so.” He picked up Becca and moved her off his lap. “Paula, you want to throw it around a bit?”

“Sure thing. Harry? Matt? Will? Grace?”

Harry and Matt nodded, and Grace blushed, “I’ll just watch. I throw like a girl.”

Jack stood up, “Don’t worry about that, we’ll go easy on you. But you can watch if you want to.”

They moved a little ways away, with Grace’s gaze not leaving them. Becca looked confused, while Will went back to writing.

“Hey Becca, how do you know Will?”

Becca stopped looking at nothing, “What? Oh, he is in my Math 104 class. I sit next to him and sometimes copy off of him. I figured we needed a fourth, for Grace, and he’s harmless. I’m going to ask Jack back to my room here in a bit.”

“Becca! You think that's smart?”

“Yeah, he’s feeling me. I mean, who wouldn’t? I’m looking good right now. You going to be okay over here?”

“Yes, I’ll be okay. I’ll see if Will isn’t a dull as you think he is.”

“Whatever.” And she jumped up, skipping over to the football game trying to bounce as much as possible.

I scooted over to Will at the edge of the blanket. He wasn’t watching the game, but scribbling in his book. The breeze tosselled his hair just ever so slightly, and he pushed a few strands out of his face.

“Hi, Will, what you working on?”

He looked up, his face a little disturbed, “I’m contemplating that tree over there, Beverly.”

“You can call me Bev. Its a cherry tree, whats to contemplate?”

“Well Beverly, I have been researching these Japanese poems about cherry blossoms, how their words flow across the page, and the art that accompanied them,” Will nodded slightly, as if he was proud of his answer, and his brown eyes went back to the page.

“Couldn’t you do that another time? We invited you so you could enjoy the springtime and have fun with us, not write poems in your book. You can do that anytime.”

Will looked up, “You are right, but when inspiration is sitting in front of you, it would be criminal to ignore it. Yes, I can write a poem about that cherry tree when it is raining outside, or when its dark out, but I would be doing it from memory. A memory that I might cloud with how I remember that tree made me feel. If I write now, I don’t have to remember, I am experiencing those feelings at this moment, and the sounds of those robins in that tree, the breeze blowing through the blossoms, the scent of the flowers on the air,” he sucked in a breath through his nose, paused, and then blew it out slowly, “Right now, I am in the moment with this cherry tree, and I feel its presence, its life, its power, all right now. It would be a shame to not capture that.”

He didn’t really look up at her when he said that. “Well, I’m sorry to interrupt that. Its important what you are doing.”

He looked up at me after I said that. “Beverly, you are part of that presence as well. It isn’t just the tree, but how you react to the tree as well. I noticed the smile on your lips as the smell of the flower filled your lungs, the sunlight that nourishes the cherry also illuminates your soft skin, and how the wind caresses your hair on this perfect day. You have nothing to apologize for.”

I went from furious to I don’t know how I felt. Will troubled me. I felt that he looked down at me until that moment, but I had never felt more seen after that. His eyes held mine, and I blinked and blushed a little. No man had ever said such things to me before.

“Why thank you Will. I meant that I didn’t want to distract from your poem. It sounds beautiful.”

His only answer was the scribbling of his pencil on paper. I watching the tendons in his hand move underneath his skin as he wrote, listening to him pour his experience onto the paper, and hearing the laughs and shouts from my friends in the spring sun.

“Will?”

“Yes, Beverly?”

“Could you ever write a poem about me?”

He looked up at me. “Not at this moment.”

I felt shocked. “Why not?”

“Well, I’m writing about the tree right now. And two, you seem desperate to ask for it. It ruins the realism if you are aware that it is happening. If, and if I would be inspired to do so, I wouldn’t tell you that I was doing it.”

That feeling went back to disgust. Why couldn’t he just be normal? It was a perfectly good opportunity that most decent men would have said yes, or said something nice about how I looked, or about me in general. I let a single tear out of my eye.

His only response was to scribble on his paper.

Paula jogged over, “What are you guys up to?”

I sniffled, and wiped my eyes, “Will was just ignoring me.”

“Really?”

Will didn’t look up.

“I guess so. How did the game go Paula?”

“Pretty good. Matt and I kept up with Becca and Jack. Harold stayed as center for both teams. I think Jack is ready to head in.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I think he’s a bit tired of fighting off Becca.”

Becca strolled up. “What are you ladies talking about?”

I smiled, “Oh nothing Becca. We think that it might be time to call it a day out here.”

“You think? I’m going to need the room Bev, I would see if Will will take you out for a soda.”

I looked around Becca, seeing Grace had already gotten up and Jack and her were already heading towards the men’s dorm. “I guess, Becca.” I stood up and brushed off some grass leaves off my jeans. “But you might wanna hurry.”

“What do you mean…” Becca turned around, saw Jack and Grace, and her jaw dropped, “That bitch! What the hell?”

Paula stretched her arms out, “Maybe you aren’t his type.”

Becca pouted, “I’m every man’s type.”

Harold came running up, “You’re my type Paula!”

Everyone but Becca and Will laughed. “Lets get out of here,” Paula grabbed another beer from the cooler.

Becca looked despondent. “Fine, you guys head out. I’ll clean this up.”

Paula and Harold walked off, joined by Matt, heading towards the community center. Will stood up, and slid his notebook into his shirt pocket. “You interested in grabbing a drink, Beverly?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but Becca jumped in, “You just going to ditch me?”

“No Becca, we won’t ditch you.”

Will smirked. “Actually, this is just for Beverly. I’ll see you in class Rebecca.”

I couldn’t hide my smile as we walked away towards the student union. “That was mean, Will.”

“Deserved. She thinks too much of herself. Somebody like that needs to be put in their place every so often to help them grow.”

I still thought it was mean. It was still hard to not smile thinking about leaving her back there alone. And I still didn’t know how I felt about Will.

“I’m glad you joined us today, Will.”

“I’m glad too, Beverly. Not just because it let me finish my poem.”

I stopped and turned toward him. “No? What other reason are you glad?”

Will looked right into her eyes. “I needed the fresh air as well.” He smiled, and resumed walking.

How darn infuriating!

“Mr William Fitz! You are the most aggravating man I know!”

He kept walking, “And? Do you have more to say? Come with me to Mulligan's to say it then.”

I stomped my foot. He still didn’t turn around. I, against my better judgment, started to walk after him. “What happened to those nice things you said earlier?”

It was difficult to keep place with him. “Nothing, But lets have a beer, and talk about whether Phil Collins or Michael Jackson is more important to music right now.”

I was confused. “What makes you think that I would be interested in that?”

“Was I mistaken that you are a music major? I’m sorry if I am. I’m sure we can talk about anything else if you want.”

He listened? He really listened and remembered something about me? That had never happened before.

“Okay. May I put my arm in yours?”

“If you must.”

I didn’t know it then, but things would never be the same for either of us.