Amongst a group, she tended to be rather reticent and introspective, electing to keep her own counsel.Amongst a group, she tended to be rather reticent and introspective, electing to keep her own counsel. It was only when we were alone, and others had departed a lunch-table discussion, that she'd whisper an opinion on the topic(s) of discourse: usually a sotto "My ass!" or drawn-out "Bulllllshiiiit!" delivered disdainfully from the side of her mouth. Despite the fact that Norma (or was it just her scent?) was a constant source of distraction for me, I never made any moves to get intimate with her. I liked things just as they were; Norma was a friend, a pal. Perhaps subliminally I was a bit intimidated by Norma. Her inherent assertiveness frustrated any overtures, sexual or otherwise. She was also five inches taller than me. It was just before Christmas vacation that Norma acted out of character. It was the first time I had ever seen her wear a skirt, a full pleated affair in some vaguely familiar tartan. At the end of Sociology II, as we stood up, gathering our books, she quite casually said: "Well, what the hell, have a happy holiday," and planted a kiss full on my lips. For the briefest of microseconds, I felt the tip of her tongue caress my mouth. With perfect aplomb, she tossed a coat about her shoulders and left the classroom. Needless to say, I could hardly keep my mind on the Coriolis Effect which was being deliberated upon in my next Oceanography class. My thoughts were all of Norma, that free-spirited, insouciant Lady of The Jonquils. When the lecture was finally over and I made my way to the parking lot, I spied Norma, leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette. She smiled at me. "Miriam couldn't give me a lift home. How about giving me one?" We walked silently together to my old Subaru, the redoubtable "Silver Wraith." The air was still and dry; the sky a transparent grey, so characteristic of cheek- reddening New England winters. Norma lived quite far from school, in a part of town I was unfamiliar with. Getting to her home was exasperating; she appeared to have an almost dyslexic concept of right and left. As we drove, I learned that her roommate Miriam had left for a holiday visit with her parents in Bangor. We ultimately pulled up to an old building which had as a facade an interesting tracery of ironwork. As she kneeled over the back of her seat, scrambling for her books, she offhandedly asked: "Care to come up and have some hot chocolate? It's good stuff. |