Goodbye, La La Land

"Uh-huh, alright."

"Anyway, in both 'La La Land' and 'Real Life', women can be broken down into two separate categories: 'Obtainable Women' and 'Unobtainable Women', although most of 'La La Land''s population is 'Unobtainable'."

"Okay, so who in 'La La Land' is 'Obtainable'?"

"I can't think of anyone, actually. I'm just hedging my bets there." Gary smirked.

"Dude, you're so fuckin' crazy analytical. Okay, just tell me, who do you consider an 'Obtainable Woman' in 'Real Life'?" T. mocked Gary by using his fingers to put virtual air-quotes around all Gary's terms.

Gary felt that tinge of frustrating excitement at the question. It always seemed to be a special kind of torture talking about girls in 'Real Life'. Whenever he tried to actually talk to them instead, he was usually a miserable, awkward failure. With a couple gut wrenching "let's be friends" talks resulting from his only attempts to alter the trend, he had almost convinced himself that 'La La Land's' slick promise of happiness was a sham. Admitting to his friends that he liked anyone simply made his inevitable failure that much more painful. He knew where his best friend's questions were leading. Why the fuck had he said anything to Brett about Kathleen in the first place? He'd harbored a growing infatuation for her since the beginning of the semester. He wished he had more control over these things. He wished he could just ignore it.

"I don't know," he said finally.

"Yes you do. What about that girl? Kathleen? Why didn't you tell me you liked her, dude?"

"I don't know. What does it matter? I don't know her. How can I even really like her?"

"You tell me."

Gary sighed, frustrated that T. wasn't going to let him off the hook. "I don't know. Have you ever just watched her?"

T. smirked.

"Of course you haven't. I love the way she looks at people. It's so cool. She just seems so happy just to sit there and watch everyone--doodling or something in her notebook."

"Doodling?" T. looked sideways at Gary.

"Yeah, well I guess that's what she's doing." He sighed, knowing he wasn't being very convincing. "I can't explain it. I love how her jeans are way too big for her legs, and the way she pulls up the sleeves of her sweater. And then. . ."

"What?"

T. wasn't going to get this. "Well--she takes off her shoes."

T. raised his eyebrows and crooked his head as if Gary was on crack.

Gary shrugged. "I don't know. She takes them off and then plays with them with her feet. I don't even know if she realizes it." Gary didn't know why it fascinated him so much. It was--sexy. She was sexy. He shrugged helplessly and let himself smile. "I just think she's cool, that's all."

"Hm."

"Eh. What's the difference? Nothing's ever going to happen."

T. grinned faintly at his friend, and as if blurting out the inevitable, "You really need to get laid, you know that?"

"Shhh, T. Jesus." Sometimes Gary still couldn't believe T.'s bluntness. "Man, no one's going to 'lay' me. You'll think it's stupid, but at this point I just think it would be cool to hold a girl's hand, you know?"

"You're right. I do think it's stupid." T. smiled mockingly. "Sex isn't like it is in the movies, Gar. You need to get over it."

"Yeah," Gary sighed ironically. "I can imagine. That's why the movies are called 'La La Land'. Remember that porno you made me watch last year? That's an hour and a half I'll never get back again--thanks a lot."

T. grinned proudly as he aggressively chewed on his food.

Gary lowered his voice. "That's the perfect example, actually. Some gorgeous girl, screaming her way through ten orgasms while the ugly old geezer just uses her any way he wants. On the surface, it's total 'La La Land' bullshit--totally for men. Underneath, though, it's just so sad. She's acting, T. Hell, she's hating it. I mean, God. Tell me there's more to it than that." He shook his head back and forth. "Sex in 'Real Life'--I just can't imagine what it would be like." He threw his hands up. "I have no idea."

"That's exactly why you need to get laid." T. chuckled. "It's just sex, dude. Trust me, you just need to relax. Look, obviously porn isn't real, but if you're thinkin' that women don't enjoy sex, you're living in the stone ages."

"It's not that. I mean, I know women enjoy sex. It's just that. . . I can't imagine them enjoying it with me. I just don't want to be the old geezer. You know what I mean?

T. pursed his lips and furrowed his brow as if Gary was a perpetually unsolvable riddle. He crooked his head in an impatiently empathetic expression. "Why don't you just ask her out?"

Gary's stomach leapt at just the thought of it, but he knew that feeling all too well. He'd tasted disappointment too many times. "I hardly even know her, man. I can't just ask someone out I don't know."

"I could invite her to the party. You can dress up and pretend you're not such a freak for once."

"You do and I'll kick your ass. I can take care of myself, man."

T. shook his head in exasperation. "'Unobtainable' then, eh?"

Gary nodded with half a smile. "Exactly."

- - - -

"All right, everybody," said Mr. Litten, the Chemistry teacher. "First lab today--finally--and it's an easy one. I figure you guys are capable of choosing your own partners, so go to it. Just make it quick."

Gary still didn't really know anyone in this class. None of his friends had wanted to take Chemistry--they all went for that joke of a physics class with Miss Adams. His eyes jumped around the room nervously as everyone else seemed to pair off and find partners without so much as an eye blink. Meeting new people was a nerve racking process for him. He carefully snuck a glance at the one person he wished he had the courage to ask. She was standing beside her desk, absent-mindedly grabbing at her leather sandals with her bare toes and looking almost as unsure as he did. He watched her survey the room, and then her eyes dropped to the floor, as if she was deliberately contemplating something. She was so strange. He loved watching her. All of a sudden, her focus shifted directly from the floor to his face, and he quickly turned away, trying to give off the illusion that his gaze was just passing in her direction on its way somewhere else. He wanted to kick himself.

"Dammit," he whispered, and stood up from his chair, trying to get back to the task at hand--frustrated as his seeming inability to keep his eyes off of her. She was looking exceptionally sexy today--he couldn't understand why the other guys didn't see it. It was one of those rare days when she didn't have a sweater on, so he had gotten a great view of her slender arms. Her hair was back in a ponytail and he loved the way it tickled the rim of her t-shirt's neckline--a shirt that wasn't quite as loose fitting as those she usually wore. His stomach was anxious with defeated frustration. What could they possibly have in common? He wished he had the courage to ask her to be his partner.

"Uhm. You wanna be my partner?"

Gary looked over and saw Kathleen staring back at him with her gorgeous brown eyes.

He couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, uhm," he stammered. "I'm not. . ." his defense mechanism was on autopilot, already working to come up with some self-effacing excuse as to why she would not want to work with him. Why was he so terribly nervous? He remembered some of T.'s words earlier, and took a deep breath. "Okay."

Her eyebrows furrowed with doubt. "Oh. Did you want to partner with someone else?"

"No, no." He just didn't want her to think he was staring. He looked around the room for a lab station at which they could settle. "Here, let's go over there."

Gary grabbed his backpack and they walked over to the station. He set it down and immediately zipped it open to begin fiddling with his notebooks and pens inside. The pressure was on. He felt the terrible silence stretching forever. He wanted to be easy-going. He wanted her to be comfortable. What could he say to her?

"So, you're Gary right?"

"Yeah," he said, keeping his eyes down. He could at least pretend he didn't know exactly who she was. "You're Kathleen?"

"Yeah," she said. He tilted his head up from his focused notebook and pen organization and caught her eyes studying him. A hint of that smile he loved so much barely escaped the corner of her mouth. "Are you sure you don't want to work with someone else? It's really okay."

God, she was something. Her voice was so friendly, her eyes seemed to see right into him, and the optimistic uncertainty of her smile just made his heart melt. He was absolutely sure. "No. I mean yes. Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay, good," she said simply, and dropped her notebook on the desk--leaving what he felt was another painful silence between them. She opened the notebook, and as she absently flipped through it to find a blank page, Gary noticed that all the white space around her notes was covered with hand drawn sketches, but she was too quick for him to really see anything. Her tiny fingers were limber and gentle with the pages. Almost as if to fill the silence, Kathleen looked up and added, "You're one of the smart ones." Her eyes squinted as the rest of her smile washed over her face.

Now having been able to see it up close, Gary was even more amazed by her smile. In an instant she could transform her face from that of a focused, serious looking girl, into someone of pure, light-hearted optimism. It just took over everything, from the crinkling of her eyes and temples to the tentative revelation of her pretty teeth. She seemed to forget herself in it, and the way it invaded his soul just made him want to understand the mystery behind it--to get to know her, and get closer to her.

"What are we supposed to do?" she was saying.

Gary was still working to stop himself from blushing at her nice compliment. He'd made so many mistakes in the past by scaring girls off with the intensity of his gaze. He was afraid they thought he wanted something from them. He tried to stay focused. "We're supposed to write down our observations of a candle. Everything we can think of. It's kind of an exercise to teach us the basics of scientific method." Gary's eyes wandered down and noticed her bare feet, remembering that she'd been wandering around the classroom without her shoes on. Somehow their absence made his heart quicken, but he thought she might have forgotten them. "Did you need to get your shoes?"

"Oh yeah." She looked concerned, and glanced toward her desk where they lay. "Okay." She quickly pranced over and retrieved them. She slipped her feet in without strapping them on, and they flopped against her soles on the walk over. She plopped down next to Gary. "Got 'em," she smiled. As soon as she said it, her shoes slipped from her feet to the floor below, and her toes playfully tugged at the leather straps.

Gary had to look away to hide his giddy smile.

"Well the lab sounds pretty easy, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure why we have to do it, it's all pretty basic stuff." Gary lit the candle and readied his pen.

"Look, it's fluttery," she said thoughtfully. "Is there a breeze somewhere?" She looked upward, twisting her head around on her shoulders with her mouth absently hanging open. "There's a vent up there; that's probably why, huh?" Gary smiled at her enthusiasm and took advantage of the opportunity to look at the tiny, delicate ridges of her ear before her head snapped back and looked at him inquisitively.

"Probably." He cupped his hands around the flame and they both saw it straighten out. It started bouncing around the wick again when he pulled his hand back. "Looks like it, but we don't want to draw conclusions, just make observations."

"Oh, right. I like how when the air hits it, there's this sort of blue finger hanging on for dear life at the edge--before it gets blown away forever. And it makes that papery noise, like it's yelling for help." She looked up into his eyes as if studying him more than the candle. Listening to her easy words, for the first time he felt comfortable looking back at her. Her face read his and she slunk her head into her shoulders with a sheepish smile. "Is that stupid?" He wondered with impossible anticipation what it would be like to run his fingers through her hair.

"No." He snapped himself out of it. He had lingered too long again. Damn! "No. I think it's great." He rolled his eyes to himself, vowing to quit staring at her, and tried to find a more scientifically appropriate way to write down her observation.

"Look, it's doing a little fork thing on top. Why does it do that?"

Gary instantly felt at ease again--she didn't seem intimidated by his quiet, intense demeanor. He enjoyed the fresh way her eyes looked at the flame, and he concentrated more on the expressions on her face than on his assignment. "I don't know." Her face was like a magnet for his eyes. "You're really good at this though."

Her head shifted to face him, and she raised her eyebrows in playful defensiveness. "You're just making fun of me now."

"No, no, no." He offered a nervous laugh to hide his growing frustration with himself for trying too hard.

"I'm just kidding! What do you see?" she asked earnestly.

As they continued their work, he found the debilitating tension in his shoulders slowly melting away, and his constant worry about what to say was quickly replaced with an unexpected ease. Ultimately, she found much more beauty and complexity in the flame than he'd ever thought to look for, but she seemed grateful for his ability to translate her thoughts into more scientific terms.

Kathleen inevitably seemed to get bored with the candle. "You know what would be good right now? A hamburger on the barbeque." She groaned rapturously. "I always get hungry this time of day. They should have two lunches," she joked. "One at 11:00am and then another one at like 2:00pm." Almost as an afterthought, "And they should have barbeques." She smiled like it was the best idea in the world. "Don't you think?"

"Yeah, I usually get hungry during this class too. I could use some salt."

"No no. Hamburger. Hamburger! Try to keep up. Salt on the barbee? What's the matter with you?" she seemed to enjoy poking fun at him.

Gary's mind was increasingly pre-occupied. He imagined what it might be like to touch the skin hiding under the clean white t-shirt hugging her shoulders, or run his finger along the tiny vein that ran down the corner of her neck next to her taut hairline. Just the smell of her clothes, so different from that of his own, brought a flash of hard feeling inside his pants, and made him have to shift in his chair. It wasn't right. He was sure she would be disgusted if she knew what he was thinking, but, God, she was even prettier than he had thought.

"No," he continued. "It's just my way of saying something salty, or something snacky, like I say 'Sugar' for something sweet, you know?"

"'Sugar' for something sweet?"

"Well, okay, the way I see it, there are three major food groups."

"I thought there were like, five food groups though."

"Well, yeah that's what the nutritionists say. To me it all boils down to 'Salt', 'Sugar', and 'Coke'."

She smiled, trying to stifle a laugh--a common reaction. "You're kidding right?" Even when she was ribbing him, she had an attentive look of genuine interest about her that made his stomach ache with even more of what he was sure was an unrequited excitement.

"No. Well, I mean it's not a set of rules I'm saying people should follow, I'm just saying it's how I look at things. It's like Aristotle's 'Poetics': guidelines for great tragedy based on observations of the best examples and the human condition." Already he knew he must sound like a total nut-job.

"Ah. Tragedy," she nodded, teasing him. "Gotcha."

He looked at her sarcastic smile and broke out laughing. She was right. It was crazy. "You're laughing at me now," he said giddily.

Kathleen reached out and placed her hand on his leg. God, what was she doing? "No, no! I've never heard anyone put it quite that way before. Is there more?"

"Oh yeah." He nodded, matter-of-factly as if there was no limit to his insanity. "Actually, 'Salt' is substantial food. Your hamburger, for example--that would be part of the 'Salt' food group. 'Sugar' is sugary to the taste, like a candy bar. And 'Coke' isn't necessarily Coca-cola specifically, it's anything like that. Root beer would be part of the 'Coke' food group."

"Okay, so what else is in the 'Coke' food group?" She used virtual quotation marks like T. had.

"Cut that out!" he laughed, and surprised himself when he reached out and playfully pulled her hands out of the air. They were small in his, and surrendered to his fingers with no resistance. He pulled back with a strong mixture of excitement and worry that he'd overstepped his bounds. His hands rested awkwardly on his lap, even as she carried on with her infectious laugh. "Well," he continued, clinging dutifully to his explanation in progress. "First of all there are sub-categories. There are 'Foods' and there are 'Substances'."

"Okay, wait." Her hand lightly rested on his leg again. She seemed to have no fear of that kind of thing. It was probably nothing to her, but he felt her hand's weight--its warmth. His breathing shallowed; he hoped it wasn't obvious. "What's the difference?" Her bare feet swung playfully underneath her.

"It's best to go by example. A 'Food' is anything that belongs in a particular food group that can't be used to make any 'Foods' in another group. For example, hamburger is a 'Salt Food'." Her beautiful hand was still there. God! "A 'Substance' is anything that can be used to make a 'Food' in another group, but when eaten by itself is considered a 'Food' of the group to which it belongs. For example, eggs are a 'Salt Substance."

"Okay, Professor," she giggled.

"Oh, sorry." Gary was embarrassed, and growing ever more nervous. He wanted to take her offered hand in his. He wanted to squeeze it and feel her fingers--to run his palm up the tendons in her forearm. Why was she doing this to him?

"No, you can't stop now! So why are eggs a 'Salt Substance'? You don't fry an egg up and put sugar on it, do you?" A look of horror washed over her face. "Oh God. Do you?"

Gary closed his eyes in mock impatience, and her horror instantly turned to laughter. He tried not to give her the satisfaction of his self-deprecating smile as he said simply, "Cookies." His cheekbones were starting to ache. He hadn't felt this way in a long time, but a budding sadness lingered within him. It wasn't good for him to get this excited.

"Of course! Cookies!" Kathleen laughed, and finally took her hand away. "Oh my God. Did you come up with all this yourself?"

"Sure, why not? I'm kind of a freak that way." He had to admit it, he was.

"No no no." She grasped his arm lightly. He was terrified that his inability to breathe in response to her every touch was a blaring beacon. He wished these tactile interactions didn't mean this much to him. "I'm not laughing at you, I think it's so cool. Okay, so root beer is a 'Coke Substance' because of root beer floats then?"

"Exactly."

"Ok, I think I've got it. So how does this help you figure out what to eat?"

"Well, it doesn't really, but if I'm hungry, I always have to have 'Salt' before 'Sugar'. And I always have to have 'Coke' with 'Salt', but I can never have 'Coke' with 'Sugar'"

"So you can never just sit down and have a candy bar? You have to have potato chips and a cola beforehand?"

"Exactly. I figure if I'm hungry I should eat something substantial first, then treat myself to the 'Sugar' only if I still want it afterward." Gary chuckled at himself trying to fight off his tight nerves. "It helps me keep my trim figure."

Her eye's squinted at him in an expression of beautiful dumbfounded-ness. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but that actually makes sense. Are there any other food rules I should know about? I mean, you're changing my life here, Aristotle." She giggled earnestly.