The Freshman Ch. 17

"Not when it interferes with clients! Not when it hurts American business interests!"

Jason's father looked hard at his guest, very offended that this pathetic 19-year-old was questioning ideas that were core to everything he believed, the ideals that had given him and his family so much. How dare she...

"I have a question for you. Do you have any pride in America at all? Don't you care about American interests? Don't you care about our society's commitment to free markets? Doesn't any of that matter to you? Just whose side are you on?"

That was the moment Cecilia snapped. Finally she had enough. She thought for a moment, not about what she was going to say, but how she was going to phrase it to make it as forceful as possible.

"Investors lost money. Aww... That's just so sad...investors lost money. Well, I think those investors got what they deserved! Whatever they lost, they deserved to lose it! They thought they were so smart, tryin' to rig that election so they could rip up that country, and guess what? They got their asses beat! Yeah, Mr. Schmidt, they lost their dirty money, and that's what they deserved! That's what I think! And as for Vladim Dukov, I like him! I like what he stands for and I wish there were more people like him. I admire him, and I hope he keeps on screwin' your clients and messin' up their plans! And if there's anything I could ever do, to help him screw your clients, I'd do it, 'cause I hate Mega-Town and want 'em put out of business! That's whose side I'm on!"

Cecilia's eyes were ablaze and her mouth was drawn tight. She looked like she was about to jump out of her seat. She was clearly ready for a good fight, prepared to argue all night if necessary to defend her position and a political figure she admired. Mr. Schmidt's face went white. For a few seconds he said nothing, then, not knowing how to respond, simply left the table. Jason's mother quickly followed, leaving Jason, Cecilia, and the three bewildered teenagers sitting alone.

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Jason's mother and father were both shocked by the Dominican's sudden combativeness, but their thoughts on how to deal with the matter were totally different.

Jason's mother wanted to throw that arrogant little ghetto bitch out of the house immediately. That meant right at that moment, out the door at 9:00 at night. How she got out of the neighborhood and back to Chicago would be her problem, not theirs.

It wasn't just Cecilia's arrogance that drew out loathing in Mrs. Schmidt; there was something much more deep-rooted. Her own husband had a nasty habit of seducing the maids, which fomented a deep hatred from the woman towards any young attractive female with a Latin American background. Cecilia Sanchez, the seducer of her own son, seemed to be the worst of all, with her pretty face, trashy background, and arrogant behavior.

Subconsciously, Jason's mother had looked forward to Cecilia's visit, because it was to have been her chance to get back at all the women with whom her husband had carried out affairs. She planned to slowly humiliate Cecilia with slight after slight, drive a wedge between her and Jason, and by the end of the weekend break both her and the relationship. Instead what she ended up doing was setting off the girl's violent temper, to the point she actually was afraid of the Dominican and what she might be capable of doing. The girl was an obvious nut-case and probably very dangerous.

Once he calmed his temper, Jason's father felt somewhat differently about the matter. At first he was speechless with anger that she had stood up to him, because it had been many years since anyone dared to openly confront him. However, as he thought about it more, Mr. Schmidt realized something important. The reason no one ever confronted him was because the people in his life either wanted something from him or were too afraid to speak their minds. Cecilia Sanchez simply had been telling him the truth, or at least the truth as she saw it. He realized that she had spoken her mind in his presence precisely because there was nothing from him she wanted or needed. The experience was unpleasant, but at the same time there was something refreshing about having an honest argument with a person who felt free to speak her mind.

Whatever Cecilia was after in her relationship with his son, it was obvious that it wasn't the family's money. In their conversation during the afternoon she had made that blatantly clear. At the dinner table Cecilia expressed that she did have very strong ambitions, but they were the ambitions of someone who worked hard and was determined to make her own career and rise or sink on her own merits. Was there anything wrong with that? Perhaps that was why Jason, who at times really seemed so helpless in life, was drawn to her.

The Schmidts had a rather heated argument in the master bedroom concerning what to do about Jason and Cecilia. While Mrs. Schmidt demanded she be kicked out of the house immediately, her husband surprised her by insisting that no, he wanted Cecilia to stay, at least through Thanksgiving dinner.

"She's the first person I've talked to in years who's stood up to me. I don't like her, not any more than you do, but she's the most honest person I've spoken to in a very long time. Anyhow, there's Jason..."

"What about Jason? You really want him being with that crazy bitch?"

"Well...here's something for us to consider. At least that girl puts her cards on the table. You know what she's thinking, because she'll tell you. I'd rather have that then someone who's all-sweet to your face, but then, as soon as you drop your guard, stabs you in the back. To be honest, I was expecting Jason to bring home some sweet phony, and then we'd end up with another disaster on our hands, just like we did last year. At least this one lays it out for you and you know what's coming."

"Look. I want her out of here, because, quite frankly, I'm afraid of her. With that temper, who knows what she's capable of?"

"What she's capable of? She's capable of arguing. What's there to be afraid of about that? What would you rather have, an argumentative type with an accent, or a repeat of the Jones girl?"

"I don't want either. I would've thought the Jones girl taught Jason a lesson, and that he'd use common sense in choosing his next girlfriend. Now he's got one that's even worse."

"Common sense? With Jason? Yeah right. A Barbie doll has more common sense than he does. But I don't think that Sanchez girl is any worse than the Jones kid. At least she's a good student, and that seems to have worn off on Jason. Think about it. Were you expecting him to be doing as well in college as he's doing right now? I sure as hell wasn't. I mean, I was giving him a chance to go, just to say I tried. But really, I figured he'd flunk out by now and be back home. He seems to be doing fine, and that I wasn't expecting. I'm wondering if it's because of her."

"I don't believe this. You're actually defending that piece of trash. She insulted you, at your own table, and you're defending her."

"She didn't really insult me. She argued with me. Granted, it's a bunch of naïve bullshit from college, but...I can't say that she personally insulted me. And I'm not defending her. I just want to give it a bit more time to get some more information, and see what's really going on with Jason."

"What's going on with Jason is that he's in over his head with that girl."

"Have you talked to him? I mean, anytime during the semester?"

"No, I was too busy. Besides, that's your job. You're the father..."

"And I was working. Trying to support you three. So don't bitch to me about not having any time. You sure have a hell of a lot more time than I do. Anyhow, she's staying until tomorrow, because I'm going to talk to her and see what's going on."

"I want her out of this house now, and I'm not kidding. I want her out that door immediately."

"Well, what you want isn't happening, and that's final. I'm talking to her before she goes anywhere. If you have any further thoughts on the matter, I'm not interested in hearing them. You want your opinion to count, go get yourself a job and start paying some of the bills around here."

Mrs. Schmidt clenched her teeth with anger. However, there was nothing more for her to do about getting rid of Cecilia that night. In that house, Mr. Schmidt had the final word. As he constantly reminded everyone, it was his job and his money that had bought and furnished the residence, and continued to pay for the family's expensive lifestyle. Her daily life, her luncheons with her friends, and her constant escapes to the country club and the area's local spas all were on his credit account. She had not worked for nearly 20 years so she could spend more time relaxing and entertaining. But, in exchange for her pampered lifestyle, she had to put up with quite a bit. She had to put up with a husband who was becoming more arrogant, more bossy, and more egotistical with each passing year. He felt that his career and his position in society entitled him to many things in life, not the least of which was women. His constant infidelity was an ongoing humiliation for Mrs. Schmidt, but unfortunately the cost of leaving would have been too great for her to bear.

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When Jason's parents left the table, Cecilia remained on edge for a good fight. Cassie and her two friends knew that she was perfectly willing to take them on if they dared say anything. Jason, meanwhile, was so stressed that he was directing all his energies to not throwing up. He should have known...he should have known... that his parents would be rude to Cecilia and that she would strike back.

After several minutes of very tense silence, Cecilia stood up and tapped Jason on the shoulder. He dutifully followed her to the guest bedroom. He had no idea what to say to her. He was horribly embarrassed and mortified at the disastrous first encounter between his girlfriend and his parents. It was Cecilia who broke the silence.

"I told you, Jason. I told you. I don't take shit from anyone, and I'm not gonna take it from your dad. Those two were diggin' at me all day and finally I had enough."

"I...I'm sorry...I'm really sorry..."

"About what? You didn't do anything. It's not your fault."

"I just feel...I mean to have put you though..."

"I can take care of myself. That's not a problem. You don't control what your dad says, and you don't control me. I don't want you apologizing for somethin' you don't have control over. Wait 'till you do something wrong, then you can apologize. But your dad and mom had better learn quick that I'm not takin' no shit from them."

Jason sat quietly, not sure what to say. Cecilia continued.

"What happened tonight's between me and your dad. It doesn't have anything to do with you, so I don't want you getting involved. I don't want you fightin' with your dad over me, but I don't want you takin' his shit either. I think that's your problem around here...your dad's got the money, so everyone's takin' his shit."

With that Cecilia changed the subject.

"Did you bring your textbooks with you?"

"I brought a couple of books, but I'm kinda...not in the mood for that right now."

"Jason, you gotta get in the mood. You just can't blow off your studies 'cause of your personal shit. They don't grade you on your personal shit. So get some work done tonight, before you go to bed."

"What about you?"

"I got work to do. A lot of it. I was wondering...if you got a place for me to plug in my laptop."

"The guest room has a connection behind the lamp-stand. I'm sure you can use that."

"OK, then I guess...it'll be goodnight. I'm checkin' your work tomorrow, so I want you doin' something before you go to bed."

She kissed him goodnight and with that the tumultuous day ended.

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Mr. Schmidt stayed up late, watching football preview shows, as he normally did in the hours leading up to the games prior to Thanksgiving. He may have been a successful corporate lobbyist, but his fantasy always had been to play professional ball. He had played as a linebacker in high school and college in a sport suited for a large aggressive teenager used to having his way around people his own age.

As a teenager and college player, Mr. Schmidt was fascinated by the thought that, through doing something he loved doing anyway, he could make a massive amount of money and have it all. In college he had seen it, been close enough to the NFL to see what having it all really was. Yeah, those pros had what he wanted, the big house, the fancy women, the nice cars, the trips... and the money to do whatever they wanted. Mr. Schmidt desperately hoped to be a part of that world. The only detail that set him apart from some of the others aspiring to the NFL was his realization that wealth from playing can disappear as quickly as it appears. He had seen that as well, pro players who went through their money within a few years of retiring, or even had gone through it by the time their careers were winding down. Linebackers especially, seemed to not do too well with their finances. To Mr. Schmidt having it all meant keeping it all, so he studied business while playing. He realized the business world was to his liking, the ideals of competing and winning every bit as important as they are in the NFL.

In his junior year of college Mr. Schmidt had a horrible shock to his dreams. His coach leveled with him by telling him that he would not be quite large enough to be picked as linebacker in the NFL draft. He had to fall back on getting an MBA, and vented his frustration by doing well in his studies. His personality was suited for business school, so when one dream in life turned out not to be realistic, he had another one to fall back on. Yes, he still could have it all, but he would have to get it through the corporate world instead of the world of pro-sports.

The ideal of competition and being the winner never was far from Mr. Schmidt's mind, which was why he was so aggressive in his work and why he always "went with the winning team". In his case "the winning team" meant supporting the manipulations of Mega-Town Associates. Whenever he went to work, he imagined himself as part of a row of linebackers running down and trampling the opposing team for that much-coveted touchdown.

"Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing."

Jason had been a huge disappointment to his father. The fact that he didn't play football was bad enough, but what really got to Mr. Schmidt was his son's passive personality. He didn't have that killer instinct, that drive to be on top, no matter what. Yes, he ran long-distance in high school and won an occasional race, but running isn't a man's sport like football. He just didn't have it.

Finally, at about 11:00 in the evening, Mr. Schmidt got tired of watching the same monotonous chatter about players and their statistics. He went to the basement to workout a bit to relieve his stress. Finally he decided to return to the Master bedroom, where his embittered wife was sleeping. He looked at her tennis player's figure, curled up under a blanket. Another disappointment.

He studied the back of her head, briefly fantasizing about putting a bullet into it. Yes, it would be so quick and easy...a single shot and that bitch's brains would splatter out onto the pillow. Then there would be no more nagging, no more constant digs about his mistresses, no more useless middle-aged female friends floating around the house chattering about tennis. Just a single shot...

Of course, shooting his wife was out of the question. A woman gets killed, and the very first thing the cops do is blame the husband. Perhaps that says a lot about marriage. No, everything would go normally, everything as planned. Tomorrow this house would be full of useless people, his mother would come over, there'd be the usual hypocritical prayers, and the usual catered dinner...and they'd all live happily ever after.

Mr. Schmidt thought bitterly about the uselessness of his family. Jason was a wimp, and the two women, his wife and his daughter, were helpless country club ornaments. Worthless. His mistresses were no better...gold diggers...all of them. Dangle a piece of jewelry in front of them, and oh yes...they spread for you right away. They were all the same, white women, black women, Asians...show them the jewelry and they spread. Mr. Schmidt had been with so many women; he couldn't even remember them all. In the end they all looked alike, because they all wanted the same thing from him and were willing to do the same thing to get it.

Over the years the man's soul had stewed in his extreme cynicism. Perhaps he had gotten to the top, or at least pretty close to the top, but in the end, what difference did it make? Mr. Schmidt was surrounded by people he couldn't trust: helpless weak individuals who doted on him because he was the one with the money. The only other people in his life were peers and rivals, men with similar personalities and similar tastes. They socialized, but none could trust any of the others. They kept each other at arm's length, to prevent any weaknesses from showing.

Disgusted at the sight of his sleeping wife, Mr. Schmidt went back out into the hallway. He walked by the guestroom and noticed the light still on. Through a glass panel in the door he glanced at that nasty little Dominican, Jason's latest fiasco in life. She was wearing a pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt, with her bare legs flattened out slightly on the desk chair. Her hair was pulled back and she was hunched over her laptop. There were several sets of stapled papers spread around her, along with a couple of books. It was obvious she was intensely at work, probably with some school project.

Cecilia looked up briefly, not at the door, but off in the distance, thinking of how to phrase something. Even though she was alone, she still had that fierce look in her eyes that he remembered from the dinner table. Yeah that's right, you trashy little bitch, try to think about how to write a sentence without "gonna" in it. He shook his head as he stood in the darkness watching her. A real hellcat, this one was. Jason's latest disaster...

But as he thought about Cecilia, his words from earlier in the evening came back to him. "She's the first person I've talked to in years who's stood up to me...She's the most honest person I've spoken to in a very long time...At least that girl puts her cards on the table. You know what she's thinking, because she'll tell you."

Mr. Schmidt thought about the girl's blunt behavior. She had not gone out of her way to try to impress him, apart from her misdirected effort to be well dressed. He remembered his earlier observation that she had been honest with him because there was nothing from him she wanted or needed. That was refreshing, the idea of conversing with someone who didn't want anything from him. It was obvious the girl had character and guts, that she was firm in what she believed, and ready to defend herself. She was brave, recklessly so. She stood out in a life that was full cringing yes-men.

His resolve to talk to her the next day came back to him, a desire to find out why she was with Jason and what that might mean for his future. He would talk straight with her, and expect her to talk straight with him. He would try not to pre-judge her. He didn't like her, but there was something...something that made him not dismiss her as quickly as he dismissed most women.

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Mr. Schmidt made the arrangements the following day to have Cecilia to himself. She helped his plans by getting up very early to continue with her work, typing out answers to the final questions from the list that Burnside had given her about Upper Danubia and the problems facing Vladim Dukov. Dressed in a warm sweatsuit, Mr. Schmidt approached the guest bedroom. Normally he would have just walked into the room, but this time, some slight hesitation in his mood forced him to knock.