The Humper Game Pt. 04 Ch. 02

I interrupted her. "Ack! I needed to get copies and framing done. Too late for today, and they'll all be closed Monday. I don't know how I could have forgotten."

"I distracted you. Repeatedly. Now listen here! If you ever can't find a job you like teaching history, you go to a really nice restaurant and ask them to let you try out as a cook. I mean it. If I didn't think you'll accomplish something important with your education, I'd tell you to drop out now and try."

She pulled out her phone and fiddled with it. After a couple of minutes, she said, "There's a place that does framing about four blocks from here, and a copy shop between here and there. The framing place is only open till eight. The copy place is open later, but we need to go there first. No guarantees that either will be open tonight—holiday weekend—but I bet they are. Can we just stick the leftover in the fridge and stack the dishes? We should have enough time, except that you'll need time in the art place."

I finished what was on my plate, but quickly, and Ellen did the same. She was right, this was a time when cleaning up later made sense. I'd rather have put the leftover into a smaller dish, but did as she suggested. The fridge wasn't all that full, anyway.

We grabbed the folder with the drawing in it and hurried. The copy place wasn't busy, and the person who waited on us took one look at what we wanted to copy and offered us a heavy stock that was perfect. She looked at the machine, and then cleaned the glass, making sure it was dry before putting down the drawing. She held that carefully, barely holding it by the edges, then carefully put it back into the folder to bring back to us. She said, "For a couple of dollars extra, I can email you a digital copy of the scan."

Ellen said, "We'd love that! Thank you." She told me, "Phil, you take the original and get going. One block down, turn right, looks like about the middle of the block." She gave me the name of the place, I've Been Framed!. "I'll settle up here and follow you."

I didn't argue. I got to the shop she had mentioned about 7:35, and yes, it was open. I went in, and it wasn't very busy, though they really needed another clerk. I looked at some of the available frames as I waited. When she got to me, I showed her the drawing and we discussed options and prices. She told me, "We're about to close, but there's still enough time, if you want to wait while I do it." I said, "Thank you very much, I was hoping you could."

Ellen had come in while we were talking. The girl—the woman—went and locked the door, then came back and carefully cut the mat and assembled everything. She said, "This is beautiful. I've never seen that signature. Do you mind telling me who did it? I can see it's you, of course."

"I'll certainly tell you, but you won't have heard of her. She's nineteen years old, and just starting her junior year out east." I said where. "Her name is Sam Bruja, Sam for Samantha, but if she gets married in the next few years she may use her married name. If I had to speculate, I'd say there's some chance that may be Abrams, but that's pretty much a wild guess." Ellen looked at me questioningly.

"She's a really close friend of ours, and it depicts a couple of very big events in my life—one literal, used as a metaphor for the other one. And when I got here and unpacked, I found she had smuggled this into my suitcase, and I was just overwhelmed. I was so afraid I would ruin it, dripping tears all over it, and I am not exaggerating one tiny bit. My girlfriend Ellen, here, had to come and handle it for me, and she was pretty moved by it as well. She was there at the events in question, too.

"So thank you very much. I wanted to get it framed to protect it, but also to display it. Oh! Can you give me something to put on the wall to hang it? I don't think there's anything already there."

So in addition to the framing, she sold me a little picture-hanging kit—nails, hooks, screw eyes, and wire. Overkill, probably overpriced, but priceless to me at the moment. She gave me some instruction in using it, too.

"Thank you so much for staying late to do that for me. It really means a lot to me." Likely she could see that I was near tears. I didn't know whether it was for Jenny or Sam or Ellen or just for the caring people at both shops, but I was about to break down again.

Ellen took charge of everything, and also thanked her as she let us out the door.

We walked back home in a more leisurely way. We went up to my apartment with our stuff. "Now I've got to get mailers for those copies, and send them all out." Or not all, we'd had a couple of extras made, just in case. "Well, that can wait a few days. Ellen, thank you. I never would have managed that tonight if you hadn't thought of it and taken charge."

I had email from the copy shop, the digital scan. I sent it to everyone who had received the first one, including Steve, with a brief note explaining. "Ellen, you wound up paying for all that. How much do I owe you?"

"Not one cent. You're giving me a copy of that drawing, you're letting me be your girlfriend. I should have had her frame my copy, too. I'll have to go back this week. And remember the middle of the night last night? And that wonderful dinner? Taking care of that for you doesn't come near covering all you're doing for me. And sometime tomorrow, you're going to take time out to really make love to me, maybe even all afternoon."

I went over and held her. "If we start put that kind of thing into the scales, I'm going to wind up owing you even more. You and Sam both put me back together a few months ago, remember. But OK, I'll write this one off to your love for me, as long as you won't quarrel with me when the shoe is on the other foot."

"I promise. We'll both try not to take each other for granted, about this kind of thing, and let it get too one-sided, but we won't keep score."

"I wish I had a recording of some things Sam played for us last week, this past week I mean. One in particular, a poem from The Fellowship of the Ring, she had composed the music. Well, you know, I don't hear music the way most people do, but it was beautiful, and I'd love to have you hear it and reassure me that it's not just me." For me, at least, being mostly tone-deaf is kind of like what I think color-blindness must be for a lot of people. I can hear rhythm and phrasing, but I can't hear the differences that the music is written to highlight. Like someone color-blind looking at a painting—those red apples among the green leaves just don't stand out much. Not completely invisible, but the striking contrast is lost.

Ellen said, "Phil, I didn't think. When I get a frame for mine, I'll have them frame the one for John and Sally, too. I can pick a frame that won't clash with their décor, not that they're trying for high fashion anyway. Sam and Jenny can make their own decisions, though—and pay for their own frames."

"Ellen, thank you! That's a wonderful idea. I should have thought of it in the first place. And I'll pay for it. I owe them a lot for those wonderful two weeks, not to mention their ongoing concern for me."

I went over and got the dishes done. I also found the little tack hammer I'd bought, rapped on the walls until I thought I'd located a stud near a good display point, and marked it. I took a nail and hook from the little kit, and put them in. It seemed that the stud was where I'd thought. I screwed in the screw eyes and tied the wire, taping the ends to protect the wall. I hung up the drawing. The salesclerk's instructions had been perfect.

It was getting late, actually—for us at least. We weren't planning to get up early, but we wanted to keep the habit of an early bedtime as much as we could. Ellen went downstairs after a nightgown, taking a couple of things with her. When she came back, I said, "Is it OK if we see whether Art's in? I'd like him to see that drawing, if he's there and not busy."

We went down the hall and knocked. When he answered, I told him, "Come down and see what Sam sent me, in my suitcase yesterday." So he came along with us.

When he got in, he looked through the doorway at Ellen's nightgown, lying on the bed, and said to her, "I'm glad to see someone's looking after Phil. He needs it. I wish someone were looking after me." He was teasing, a little, but I thought the last bit was serious.

"You know, if I wanted to torture you I'd try to sing this, but I'll just quote the words." But as I started, half a line in Ellen started singing, and I just let her from there on.

Young women, they sit like birds in the bushes,

Young women, they sit like birds in the bushes.

If I was a young man, I'd go beat them bushes.

She sang the nonsense refrain line as well, and another verse or two.

He laughed, but I thought his heart wasn't in it.

I said, "Art, this morning when I went running, Ellen and her running partner, Elise, found me a running partner. Now, we've only run together once, but she seems really nice. Right off, she asked questions to make sure we both understood whether we were looking for just a running partner or more. I pointed out that Ellen could run us both down and beat us to death—" she laughed and shook her head "—and we both know I'm not looking for a girlfriend or even a date. Though I can imagine, after a while, doing things beyond running with her, as long as we both know it's not looking for anything romantic at all. Anyway, she said she didn't have anyone right now, but she was happy to have me as a running partner and no more.

"What I'm getting at is that you need to keep looking on your own, but that if things go well with running, if she likes me and trusts me after a while, I'll mention that I have this really nice friend who's new here himself and not paired up. I think we clicked fairly well, and I may be to the point where I can say something like that pretty soon, without it's sounding weird or scary. And I'll make sure she knows I'm just mentioning you on your behalf, not trying to maneuver her into something.

"But anyway, I didn't bring you here to wave Ellen's nightgown at you like a matador with a bull. Look at this drawing."

"So that was you, banging on the walls, a few minutes ago?" He looked for a while. "Wow. Who did it?" Then he did a double-take. "You said Sam sent it, and that's you. You mean, Sam drew that?"

"That's right. I was crying for the next half hour or more. She did it for me, back when it happened, if you look at the date on it, and buried it in my suitcase to be found when I unpacked."

He just stared at it for a while. "They probably will nick you out of some of your security deposit for the nail hole, by the way. But if they took the whole thing, hanging that is worth it! I knew Sam could draw, but I never imagined—. Wow."

"Two different people have already told me to hang onto it until she's famous, and then I'll be rich. As if I'd let it out of my grasp for any amount of money."

"I'm with you on that. Even without the personal meaning, which is pretty plain to anyone who was there. I was really glad you two got things settled again, but anyone could see that it hurt like anything. Maybe I can get Sam to do something for me."

"It can't hurt to ask her," I said.

"Now, we were starting to get ready for bed, as you already noticed, but I suddenly realized that you know Sam, too, well enough that I wanted you to see that tonight. It came yesterday, but yesterday was kind of full, and the emotional punch made it fuller."

He clapped me on the shoulder. "And I thank you. I'll let Sam know you showed it to me." He went out.

Ellen caressed my cheek. "We never got to shaving this morning, what with everything. I'll take it for tonight without complaining. But I hope you'll remedy it in the morning. And I'll need to go over some things myself.

"But what that reminds me of, is this. Tonight doesn't matter, but tomorrow, um, between my legs is going to be prickly and scratchy just like your cheek is now. I hope it'll be more pleasant in a few days, but—are you sure it's OK with you?"

"I thought I made myself clear. If I don't like it, I'll tell you that, and you can decide what to do about it. It's your decision, no matter what. I can only give you data."

"Phil! Data is what I'm after when I ask if it's OK with you!"

I paused. "Sorry. Ellen, you know I don't like to talk about people behind their backs, right? I didn't tell you about the last night I spent with Deedee, did I?" She shook her head. "Then listen. The time before, not all night, I mean the time you all came to Sam's room, she asked me for anal. You remember that. And she said, next time she would do whatever I wanted. So when she and Ellen and I were all there, before Deedee and I went off, she reminded me of this. She said, I really mean whatever you want. Pretend I'm a prostitute and you've paid me to fulfill your fantasies."

"And all I could say is, I want a lover, not a slave. Not even a hired slave, not even a willing slave. I told her, if I ask you to do something and you're uncomfortable with it, you tell me so.

"Do you see, Ellen? I love you. I want you to be happy. If I want you to do something different, let your pussy grow wild, get your nipples pierced and put rings in so I can yank on them, shave your head bald—and don't you dare think these are serious suggestions!—then I want you to look at it seriously. Phil, whom I love and who adores me, would like me to do this. And I want you to decide whether this is something you'd be happy doing for no more reason than that, or whether you might enjoy whatever it is yourself. I will treat you the same way. If you decide you'd like to see what I'd look like with a beard, I'll consider giving it a whirl, but it's not automatic, and I might hate it after a week and shave it off with no more than, 'Sorry, Ellen, this is awful for me.'

"So let it grow. I've said that I'm pretty sure I'd like it all not too long, front and between your legs and all. I've said I'm really willing to try it unshaven. I'll say I really, really would like you to keep shaving your legs and armpits. Now, you have to decide what to do. Don't ask me again whether I'm sure it's OK."

She was quiet for quite a long time. Finally she said, "Sorry, Phil. I see exactly what you mean. I'll try it, and you tell me how you like it in a couple of weeks or more. Sooner, too."

"Ellen, I'm sorry. I've gotten to where I get carried away and rant. That's not how I want to treat you."

"Phil, I asked for it. I can't say, come to bed and make love to me, not yet. But please, come to bed and hold me. Or since it's your bed, take me to bed and hold me."

My room was just as bright as hers with the lights off. Stupid translucent curtains. At least they provided curtains. "Just a minute, honey. I said I'd look at your windows, and I never did. Let me look at mine." And sure enough, up where they were hidden by the tops of the curtains, there were standard roller shades. Either the management company had put them in, or someone had and they had left them. I pulled them down.

"Tomorrow we'll check whether you have shades, too. I'm betting you do. The translucent curtains are actually a good idea, with shades available to make it dark. Anyway, for now, we have it dark enough to sleep better."

I climbed into bed, and we fell asleep in each other's arms. I woke for the bathroom, and Ellen woke when I came back, but she just hugged me sleepily and we went back to sleep.

Sunday morning I woke alone in bed, to the sounds of a shower running. Ellen came out a few minutes later, dressed for the day. "Phil, dear, it might be OK now, but can we please wait till this afternoon? I'll take another shower, and I'll do whatever you want. And I don't quite mean that like you said Deedee did. I do mean that I want to please you the first time, any way I can."

She got things out and started frying bacon. Bread into the toaster oven. Eggs. She knew how I liked my eggs—lots of ways, but over pretty easy best of all, and on toast—and she made hers that way, too.

She came and sat in my lap to eat, both our breakfasts on one plate. I told her, "If I drip egg yolk on that blouse it's your fault." She stopped eating for a minute and took it off. I put my fork down and stroked her breasts.

"I love you, but right now, eat. And I mean your breakfast. I know you hate it when your eggs get cold."

Afterward, I did the dishes. A couple of things hadn't really gotten clean the night before, and I did them again. I suddenly realized that the bedroom shades were up. I had really been asleep. Ellen got out the broom and swept the floor.

We really didn't have anything we needed to do. More shopping, yes, but not today. Then I realized something.

"Did you ask about what I need to bring to the picnic tomorrow? And did your signs say?"

"I didn't think to ask. The signs said basically to bring a dish to pass, and not to worry if you couldn't."

"Do I have enough bacon left? I think I must." I looked. "Ellen, no more bacon until after the picnics. No potatoes, either. Maybe later today, more likely tomorrow morning, we'll make German potato salad, and we'll take half to each. Probably need to stop by each place and then go back to one, later. We'll have to cheat a little on the potatoes, I don't have that many redskin potatoes, but we can peel the others and pretend."

Fortunately, I had two suitable dishes. I'd have to label one with my name and one with Ellen's, and we'd have to keep them straight. I had two serving spoons. I was going to need to get more.

"Did they say anything about bringing your own plates and stuff?"

"The signs said all that's being provided."

"We'll hope history is the same."

I found the cookbook I had managed to locate, and yes, there was German potato salad, and it was pretty much the way I remembered it.

"Phil, how long does this take to make, anyway?"

I looked at the cookbook. "Looks like maybe half an hour, for both of us, once the potatoes are cooked. That's being generous, they say less, but we won't be as efficient as if we really knew what we were doing. I think all we'll need to do tonight is get the potatoes washed."

We sat down and talked kind of idly.

"Call Sam and Jenny," she finally said.

I dialed Jenny first. She was feeling antsy. Her first day's classes had been canceled, and tomorrow was the holiday. However, she'd met some people, and she thought some of them were going to be friends, with time.

"Both our departments are having picnics. Is yours doing something like that?"

"Apparently not. But some people are having parties, and I've been invited to a couple. A guy named Nick, that I met when I went to talk to my advisor, is taking me to one, and we might go to the other, too."

"Are there facilities where you can run in the mornings?"

"I need to find out about that. I see folks running on the streets and sidewalks, but besides how hard the pavement is, the traffic is really scary. Car and bus and bike and pedestrian, all of them. I've never seen traffic like this. I'm glad not to be driving on campus! Pedestrians just walk in front of cars, basically daring them not to stop. They don't even look! If the driver's attention wanders, someone's going to get hit."

"Ellen had already checked into stuff before I got here. There's a gym with a track, and also stuff like weight machines I haven't checked out yet. We went yesterday morning. She'd found a running partner, and you know I don't mean anything beyond what I say here, but she's almost as beautiful as Ellen or Sam. Way too fast for me, of course, and I think pretty hard-core about exercise, but seems nice. Ellen can say, but I think they're already pretty good friends.