The Convertible - Broken Arrow

I let go and dropped him. Unable to regain his footing, he stumbled, ending up on his knees.

I could feel the fury in my eyes. Casting a glance at the other guys who'd witnessed my outburst (the ones who hadn't fled in fear when I backhanded Josh, anyway), I growled "Anybody else want a piece of me? Otherwise, I have shit to do."

Other than a few heads shaking 'no', nobody said a word. I walked down the hall into my room, closed and locked the door, and collapsed on my bed. Pulling my pillow over my head, I shut out the world and dropped into a fitful sleep.

I dreamed I was in the ocean, frantically dogpaddling, looking around and calling out for Claudia while desperately trying to stay afloat myself. I sensed she was drowning, but no matter how hard I looked, I couldn't find her.

When I finally woke up, I was covered with panic sweat. I thought to myself that the Freudian dream analyzers in the Psychology Department would have a real field day with that one. Fuck...

++++++++++

I knew it was none of my damned business, but I had to warn Claudia that Josh Morgan was bad news. Jeez, if she wanted to sleep with somebody else, OK, but why that fucking douche bag? Why not a guy like my study partner Cleo Franklin? I mean, once you got past his hipster man-bun, he was pretty cool!

I went to Claudia's office, sat in the hallway and waited outside until Mrs. Mazetta went on break, then quickly slipped in. She was working on her computer, her eyes focused on a spreadsheet displayed on the monitor. I cleared my throat, and she saw it was me. Before she threw me out, I swung for the fences.

"Claudia, I know you and I aren't a thing anymore, I mean it sucks but I accept that, but I still care about you! I have to warn you about Josh Morgan. He's an arrogant ass! The way he talks about you, he's - "

Claudia held up her hand to silence me. OK, mission accomplished. I shut up.

"Mr. Cosgrove, let me be crystal clear; my personal life is none of your business. NONE. Given the C grade you got on your last statistics exam, I would advise you devote yourself to your studying, rather than clucking about like an old hen in the lives of others. Now I have much more important things to attend to, you're excused!"

Wait, she was monitoring my grades? Wow, what was up with that? "Claudia, please, I'm really worried he's going to hurt you," I began, but was again shut down.

"EXCUSE ME? Allow me to remind you, Mr. Cosgrove, I'm the Vice President of Student Life and Dean of Students! That will be quite enough of your impertinence. It's Dr. Broken Arrow, thank you very much. GOOD DAY, MR. COSGROVE." She didn't actually need to point at the door for me to leave, but she did. That stung.

I tried to console myself that at least I wasn't a pussy, I was a fighter who'd given it my best shot. It didn't help much - the consolation was a 2 out of 10 at best."

++++++++++

The term was winding down, and my final exam for the certification was in 3 weeks. I was hitting the books with a vengeance when I heard a tapping at my door. "Come on in," I called, and Cleo ran in, in a great state of excitement.

"Dude, have you heard? Dr. Warpath just resigned!"

"Cleo, that's bullshit, it's got to be just student rumors again."

"No, man, check out the news headlines from last night. The Board of Trustees requested her resignation after Josh Morgan accused her of sexual harassment. He wrote a letter to them saying she promised him good grades in exchange for sex. She admits to having a relationship with him, but denied it involved grade tampering. She released a statement that she was resigning for the good of the school."

My blood boiled. "That fucking prick Morgan, I warned him." I jumped to my feet, shouting, "I'll break his fucking arms!"

Cleo was about 2/3 of my size, but he made a laughable attempt to block me from walking out the door. "Whoa, Darren, you're almost finished with your program, don't go and do something stupid and get kicked out before you finish! Morgan's a prick, but he's not worth throwing away your certification!"

Cleo had point. Thinking quickly, I came up with an idea. Dr. Janine Foles, President of the Board of Trustees, had an office in Haviland College's Administration Center. If luck were with me, she'd be in.

I ran across the quad to the Center; for once, luck was with me, she was in, her door wide open. Dr. Foles was seated at her desk doing work at her computer. I tapped gently on her doorframe.

"Can I help you?"

"Dr. Foles, I'm Darren Cosgrove, a student here at Haviland. I'm here to talk to you about Dr. Broken Arrow."

She looked at me like I was human sewage, "I see. Are you here to file a complaint as well?"

"No, just the opposite. I want to set the record straight. Claudia -- I mean Dr. Broken Arrow -- she's been set up. She may date younger men, but she wouldn't ever engage in the kind of quid-pro-quo for grades she's been accused of! It's complete and utter bullshit!"

Once she realized I wasn't an asshole like Josh Morgan, Dr. Foles softened a bit. "Oh, I'm quite aware of that, as is everyone on the Board. It's quite an unfortunate situation, given that Dr. Broken Arrow is a very capable administrator."

"If you know the allegations were false, then why did you accept her resignation?"

Dr. Foles looked at me over the top of her glasses, telegraphing her incredulity at my question.

"Mr. Cosgrove, substantiated or not, these kinds of allegations are an instant stain on the reputation of any academic institution. Specious origins aside, when they become public, the press automatically paints us as guilty unless immediate action is taken. Dr. Broken Arrow is very aware of this and has resigned for the good of the college."

I became irate. "Dr. Foles, Josh Morgan is a lying sack of shit! Why isn't he facing any consequences?"

If she thought I was an idiot before, the Board President's look now indicated I had the naiveté of a high school freshman.

"Mr. Cosgrove, you do not appear to be a child, so I'm sure you'll understand how this works. As despicable as he may be, Josh Morgan is Haviland's starting quarterback.

Our football program generates several million dollars a year in revenue for the college through ticket sales. The collateral sales of Bighorn stuffed animals, apparel, keychains, and printed materials often matches or exceeds that.

Sales of Mr. Morgan's jersey alone will pay for the annual maintenance and repair of this building. Every winning season for the Bighorns means more alumni contributions.

Mr. Morgan has filed a complaint, as is his right to do so, and not committed a crime. Why in the world would you think he'd face any consequences? Are you really that stupid, or just..." She stopped for a minute, as if something occurred to her.

Her blue-eyes narrowed, her gaze piercing me like a javelin. "Mr. Cosgrove, are you romantically involved with Dr. Broken Arrow?"

This hit a nerve in me. "NO," I shouted, then lowered my voice, "I mean, I'm not now. I was, then she decided to end it."

"Hmmm, a jilted student lover, yet here you are defending her instead of filing a claim yourself. This is fascinating, Mr. Cosgrove. Tell me, why exactly did she break it off with you?"

"Not that it's any of your damned business, Dr. Foles, but I'm not ashamed to tell you I wanted to marry her. Dr. Broken Arrow, however, had no interest in that level of commitment and broke it off."

Dr. Foles chuckled, "Now it all makes sense. In spite of the fact she dumped you for a football player, tragically, you still love her. Material straight out of a Brontë novel, all that's missing is you walking on the moors in the morning mist."

Turning back to her computer screen, she raised one hand in a dismissive farewell gesture. "Goodbye, Mr. Cosgrove. I trust I won't be hearing from you again."

"So that's it? Josh Morgan blatantly lied, Dr. Broken Arrow lost her position, and you're doing NOTHING?"

Now apparently it was me that had hit a nerve. Dr. Foles stood and faced me. Her voice now had a threatening tone in it, "Are you deaf as well as stupid, Mr. Cosgrove? Are you leaving, or do I need to call Campus Security?"

"I'm leaving, Dr. Foles. I've found out what I needed to know, that you and the rest of the Board of Trustees are a bunch of greedy CUNTS." As that last shouted word echoed down the corridor, I turned and stormed out.

I ran over to Claudia's house just in time to see the moving van pull away. Decisive as always, she'd wasted no time getting her few belongings packed up and shipped out. I saw her standing alone on the empty porch. It was now or never, I had to take one last shot to see if I could change her mind. I ran up and fell on my knees in her yard, pleading.

"Claudia, wait! I still love you, please don't go! We can still be together, I've got a good job, I can provide for both of us until you find something else. Please stay!"

Claudia came down the steps and sat on the grass beside me. She was wearing a sweatshirt, jeans, and a pair of beat-up cowboy boots. Her hair was tied up in a bun, and she was wearing no makeup, but she was as beautiful to me as the first time I saw her.

For the first time in a long time, she put her arm around me. She shook her head and sighed, "It's kind of you to offer, Darren, but money's not a problem. My great-great-grandparents lived on the Osage Indian Reservation.

Back in the 19th century, when the US government negotiated moving the Osage tribe from the Ohio Valley, the terms included all mineral rights on reservation land. Oil was discovered there in 1894, and by 1901 the Osage had become the wealthiest Native American tribe in the country. Believe me, I hardly need to be taken care of."

Claudia stood up and pulled me up with her, then took me in her arms and held me close. Leaning in, she gently kissed me. "Darren, you were a problem for me from the day we met. I'm sorry I hurt you. I could see you getting serious way too fast, I wasn't ready for it." She sighed deeply.

"Please understand, there's no way I can stay here now. This college, this city, California, it's no longer my place, I don't belong here. Josh's false accusations were a sign, and I'd be foolish to ignore it. I need to go home, to be back among my tribe."

I bent my head so our foreheads were touching, just like on the first day we met, "What about me, Claudia? I love you so much, I don't want anyone else. What am I supposed to do without you?" I felt like my soul was being torn apart. Tears were streaming down my face. I didn't care. I was losing her.

She kissed me again, and said in a calm low voice, "Darren, I know it hurts, but this hurt will heal. Look deeper, way below the anger and the pain, way down deep inside you where your dreams live. Pursuing your dream is what will heal you."

That was a bunch of feel-good philosophy bullshit to me. "You don't understand, Claudia. YOU'RE my dream! I want to have you next to me every night before I go to sleep, and every morning when I wake up!" At this point, I was fighting the urge to break into ugly sobs.

Claudia took my right hand, placing it on her chest directly over her heart. She then placed her right hand over my heart. "Darren," she whispered, "I know I was reluctant to give myself to you before. Even though I'd turned you away, I see now your love was true; you kept trying to protect me. You were right, Josh was a terrible mistake. I was using him to try to forget you and failed miserably. He didn't have your tenderness, your maturity, or your kindness. He was a selfish, shallow ass.

Despite how you tried to warn me about him, I thought I knew better and didn't listen. Now I'm paying the price for my hubris. Believe me, regret is a bitter fruit. Know this, Darren Cosgrove: As I have your heart, you now have mine. I swear we'll be together one day. This time and this place are not ours, but one day we WILL be together. Do you love me enough to believe that?"

Trying to stop crying, I squeezed my eyes shut. "Yes, I believe you," I managed to choke out. I felt her lips on mine once more, a long soft kiss, then no more. I opened my eyes, and saw I was alone. Only the lingering scent of her perfume remained.

++++++++++

My retired boss Gerry Wentworth always described me to people as a good worker, and an overall good man. That was the Darren Cosgrove that he knew. What Gerry didn't know was that I had a creed I learned growing up in East St. Louis: 'You take care of me, we're friends for life. You do me dirty, I'm your enemy until one of us stops breathing.'

It was Gerry that gave me my shot at MoveIt, and it was Gerry that took good care of me in my career; there was nothing I wouldn't do for him. Josh Morgan, on the other hand, had hurt the love of my life. The motherfucker had payback coming, he just didn't know it.

When I was a kid, there was this guy in my East St. Louis neighborhood, everybody called him Sunny Jim Howard, but it wasn't due to his cheerful demeanor, oh no. Sunny Jim got his nickname because he was an angry Black man, 6'5", 280 pounds, with a huge blonde/yellow Afro that looked like the sun was coming up.

Sunny Jim was always in a bad mood and looking for a fight, and you'd better believe all the locals gave him a wide berth. He'd even go so far as to put wads of cash in his pocket and walk around at night waiting for someone dumb enough to try and take it from him.

I'm saying this only because with Claudia gone, I was channeling Sunny Jim. I'd taken to walking the Haviland campus at night after I finished my studying. I was 210 pounds of East-Saint-Louis-pissed-off, looking for trouble. My nightly sojourns made me a familiar sight to Campus Security and student night owls; to my frustration, most left me alone, but one Friday night I finally found what I was looking for.

I was walking down fraternity row, past the Kappa Lambda Omicron house. Judging from the volume of the music, a party was going full on. Along with hearing it, I could smell it, the scent of beer and weed floating by. I was just about past the KLO house when I heard a woman's voice.

"Josh, stop it! I'm not some whore you can fuck whenever you want!"

"Aw, come on, baby, just give me a little lovin'..." That voice was burned into my memory: Josh Morgan. I looked around; in the dim light I saw two figures standing against one of the hundred-plus-year-old giant oak trees.

As I crept closer, the woman's voice screeched, "I SAID NO!"

Before I could make a move, I heard Josh's voice scream in pain, "YOU BITCH! YOU KICKED ME IN THE NUTS!"

As I drew close, I saw Josh swing at the girl as if trying to slap her. Bent half over in pain, he missed, but managed to grab her blouse, tearing it open. He never saw me running up behind him. Grabbing him by the back of his jeans and the neck of his shirt, I used all my strength to shove his head into the oak tree. He crumbled to the ground and stayed there.

The girl looked at me, declaring, "You're that weird walking guy! You...you..." I could tell she wasn't sure if I was going to attack her next, or not.

I put my hands out in front of me, trying to placate her. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, except this asshole tore my favorite blouse." She was tough, I'll give her that.

I spoke to her calmly, "Listen to me, please. You need to go back into the KLO house and tell them Josh attacked you, you fought back, and he hit his head. Have them call Campus Security and the EMTs. If you want to keep it quiet, that's up to you to. I'd consider it a favor, though, if you forget I was ever here, OK?"

She nodded her head, and I took off.

It was all over the news on Monday how Josh Morgan, star quarterback of the Haviland College Bighorns, had been arrested over the weekend for sexual assault during a fraternity party.

Fuck you, star quarterback Josh Morgan!

Without Josh Morgan playing the Haviland Bighorns lost their next two games and were eliminated from the playoffs. The Haviland alumni boosters were calling for the coach to be fired; some were calling for a donation boycott until the program got turned around.

Double fuck you, Board President Dr. Janine Foles!

After that, I didn't need to walk at night anymore. My only regret was Claudia not being here to witness my revenge. Actually, revenge be damned. My only regret was Claudia not being here, period. I had no idea where she'd gone; there had been no calls, no texts, or emails. I missed her terribly, and probably always would.

++++++++++

Back in Pasadena it had been 14 months and 8 days since I'd had taken Claudia on that picnic, 11 months and 17 days since she'd dumped me, 10 months and 6 days since she'd resigned and left Haviland College, and 4 months and 12 days since I'd completed my course and gotten my certificate, but then again who the hell was counting? During that time I'd received no phone calls or emails from her. Not a damned word. Every day was more hopeless than the last one for me.

Back at MoveIt headquarters, my ongoing sullen demeanor must have given me an air of mystery. Multiple women who'd ignored me prior to my going to Haviland were now sending out signals of interest as I moved up the corporate ladder.

None caught my attention because 1.) if they had ignored me before the start of my rise, they could go fuck themselves now, and 2.) I still stupidly carried hope in my heart, longing for the woman I loved but would probably never see again.

Since my life was empty now, I'd torn into my work like a man possessed. While my peers were working 40 to 50 hours a week, 60 hours was my minimum. If somebody was falling behind on their workload, I'd volunteer to pitch in and get them caught up. I became a fucking inventory processing machine. The bosses noticed; I got a reputation as a real go-to guy, which was good.

Not so good was that I also developed a reputation as a bad motherfucker. I took shit from nobody. I made it clear to my teammates I wasn't out to make friends. If I caught somebody slacking or trying to cut corners, I didn't bother taking it to the boss, I just tore the slacker a new asshole myself. After that, they'd either step up their performance, or quit. I didn't much care which, both options were fine with me.

One Friday I finally got called into the Human Resources office for some 'constructive coaching'. The Human Resources puke, Dave Swanson was his name, tried to sugar-coat things. "Listen Darren, you're a great worker, everybody respects your results, but you have some opportunity for improvement in your teamwork. Some of your teammates have commented that you used to be pretty easy-going, but since you got back from your certification course you've gotten really edgy."

"Tell me what I'm doing wrong," I demanded.

"You're not doing anything wrong," Dave said deferentially, "but using tact and diplomacy when correcting your co-workers' errors might make the team run more smoothly."

"Look, Daaaaaave," I said, dragging his name out to passively show my scorn, "a person is allowed to make a mistake once. I have no problem with that. If he or she makes the same mistake repeatedly, however, they're either lazy, careless, or a fucking idiot. That shit I won't tolerate. And don't talk to me about the team running more smoothly. Ask my VP Tom Ragsdale about the team's productivity metrics. They've been on an upward trend ever since I got back."

Dave raised his hands, "Darren, nobody's questioning your efficiency and effectiveness. Your accuracy and attention to detail are absolutely on point. It's not a question of right or wrong. You're usually always right. But speaking frankly, because of your harshness, the morale in your department is shit. Your effectiveness is way up, but so is your department turnover."