Margo’s Neighbor Part 3

Something electric happens along highway 17 towards Santa Cruz. At a certain point the need for speed gives way to a slow coasting along the swerve of the roads. The trees tower over, and your eyes can’t help but take in the scenery. The trees sway along the hills, the forestry drowns in abundance, and the air is crisp and pungent. Another swerve and the entire scene hits you again. Soon enough from the hills and forestry and the air crisp and pungent, the natural world becomes all that you know. And that’s when the electricity emerges, a sort of prickling deep within, awakening yourself from eons ago, telling you that you’ve finally come home.

But this electricity is fragile and fleeting. And soon enough there are blinking red lights and green signs in Clearview font and cars in caravan, and that old friend goes into hibernation as the city hums with a fluorescent hue.

As I approached the city of Santa Cruz in the middle of a clear April day, I carried some of that residual electricity with me. I was excited to be on a little vacation and leave my day-to-day behind. And of course, I was excited to visit Julia.

It had been almost seven months since we’d seen each other in person. A lot can happen in seven months. I’ve been told that the key to a successful long distance relationship is a commitment to daily communication. In that respect, we had succeeded. We were on the phone every day and zoomed at least once per week, despite my job, and despite her classes and traveling for tennis. But it still stinks. That feeling after those zoom sessions sinks your soul and makes you ache. It’s especially hard when what you have together isn’t exactly defined as a relationship.

Thinking back to my own experiences, I remembered what it was like at her age, especially those first couple years. You’re supposed to step beyond the life you previously knew. Experience new things. Experience new people. Have some serious fun and never get too serious, except for your classes. I wanted all of this for Julia, and at times felt guilty that I was tying her down because of our attachment to each other. I carried these concerns within as I found a guest parking lot in the heart of the campus.

UC Santa Cruz, where the world is your oyster and smells like it too. There were banana slugs all around but not the type you’d find in the woods. The day was beautiful and the ocean breeze complimented the heat. I wore a loose white button-down, untucked, with flip-flops and sunglasses. Even though I was a bit older than these banana slugs, I was gifted with some of those good anti-aging genes. Combine that with my tattoos and I blended in just fine on campus.

But I showed my cards soon enough, getting lost in search of Julia’s dorm. I ate crow and approached a couple guys, one of whom was carrying a watermelon.

“Let me guess. There’s vodka in there,” I said.

“Bruh. We’re about to carve it,” said the guy with the watermelon. “Step 1.”

“Tradition, baby,” I said. “Hey can you guys guide me towards Biko House? I’m lost.”

Watermelon’s friend got me on the right track. He wore a hawaiian shirt that would have been seen as tasteful if he was on the islands. The boys were energetic and fun and the hills were lush with green grass. Thinking about those young men and their stupid adventures got me thinking some more about Julia. I imagined that Julia ran into plenty of boys like the watermelon bros, as well as a spectrum of others who were just as fun and untethered, boys who were sweet and kind, boys who were insightful and deep and interesting, and of course boys who were just flat-out fuckable in the minds of many others. We weren’t exactly in a relationship, and truthfully I didn’t think we could be yet, even if we wanted it. So in my mind, if she hooked up with anyone these last seven months, I wanted to be ok with it. I intended to be ok with it. And I didn’t want to limit her experiences. Yet, Julia seemed fully invested in me, and seemed fully dedicated to school and tennis all the while.

The hills zig-zagged and overlapped and converged at an apex, where Biko House stood upon. Its outward appearance was dominated by brick, and had an aesthetic fitting to the 1970s. When I climbed some concrete stairs and approached, a small group of students happened to be exiting the dorm and held it for me and I was inside. I worked my way up to the 3rd floor. The hallway was a perspective piece of cream-colored walls and off-blue carpet. There was muted music and whiffs of weed and a girl in a towel, who scurried to her room and closed the door. Dorm life. Even with the nostalgia I was feeling, the place still made me feel a bit old.

As I walked along the hallway and watched the numbers go down, I felt especially weirded out over the fact that I was that guy now, the older guy with the younger girl. I didn’t feel comfortable in that role. I knew the way guys could often be, predatory and single-minded, and on the surface I felt like Julia and myself’s dynamic had that sort of appearance. On the other hand, I knew what we had went far beyond those depths. And it wouldn’t seem so odd if it was a fifty-something dating a forty-something, for example. These insecurities, however present, were easily overshadowed by what I knew stood beyond the door of room 324. There are exceptions to every rule. And she was exceptional. I exhaled all my doubts and gave the door a knock.

There was an audible gasp on the other side of the door, right before it flung open to the cacophony of Julia screaming and bouncing and grabbing my body, now bouncing together and more screaming, into my ear and down the hallway. I got lost in the chaos that I didn’t even think to lift my arms around her. But she settled down and we finally hugged. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a guy with sunglasses who looked like he was in a 1990s Mountain Dew commercial pop his head into the hallway then back inside.

“Bruh, it’s the professor!” he said to someone inside.

Julia let go of me and yelled down the hallway, “What did I say?”

The guy popped out again and lifted his sunglasses. “Julia that’s him? Man, he doesn’t look like a professor. He just looks like, a dude.” His roommate popped his head out and it was like a buddy comedy with gophers.

“You’re an idiot, Josh,” said Julia.

“Thank you,” said Josh. And Josh said “nice to meet you” as he and his roommate faded back into his room and the door closed.

“Professor?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. She smiled and put a hand on her hitched hip.

It hit me instantly. Julia looked different. She had lost a little weight and looked fitter. Generally the super thin super fit type isn’t my thing; I prefer a girl with a little more to squeeze, so to speak. But in this case Julia really looked great at her level of fitness. She wore a beautiful canary yellow summer dress that had roses on it, which hugged her breasts in a very classy and sexy way. It was tied at the waist with a cute brown bow.

“Wow,” I said. “Can you give me a little twirl?”

Julia blushed and I spun her around a couple times. Thank goodness, I realized, that she somehow maintained that juicy booty of hers, despite her weight loss. Her bubbly butt popped out against the silky fabric of her dress. My mind suddenly wandered, thinking about what her ass might be tasting like…

“You look so damn good,” I said. “All that tennis…”

She lifted a leg like she was doing a Captain Morgan. “Give it a squeeze.”

I did and it was rock hard. I gulped a bit and wondered if she noticed. Julia invited me inside and closed the door behind.

Zoom is a funny thing. If you’ve ever been in a situation where you’ve zoomed with a stranger, then actually met them in person, you realize it’s just different. There’s something about being face-to-face with another human being that is the truest test of your sense of reality. So even though Julia and I had been “seeing” each other for many months, only now could I see a difference within her beyond the physical, in the way she carried herself. Some months ago, Julia was the follower. She was innocent and moved with an awkwardness. Now when she looked at me, she wasn’t star struck. She was present. She looked at me like she didn’t need me to guide her. Being on the same wavelength made me attracted to her even more.

Her room, however, was exactly what I expected. She had piles of clothes in different places, and bottles of personal care products wherever there was space. Her wall had a pride flag and pictures of her family and a couple kpop posters. Her roommate’s wall was covered in astronomy posters and there were piles of books all over. It was a sunny afternoon but the blinds were almost closed, and the room was lit by lamps of soft reds and warm yellows. I sat on her bed as Julia reached into her mini fridge and grabbed a couple bottles of Miller High Life. She popped them on the edge of an Ikea table that seemed to be more bottle opener than table. She sat next to me and we tapped our beers.

Julia put her hand to my face and rubbed my beard. “You’re growing this out?”

“Yeah. I never stuck with it before. It got weird at a certain length. But it’s going places now that it’s past that.”

Julia chuckled. “It’s going places…” She took a sip, swallowed, and stared at me hard. My heart fluttered.

Someone was playing music next door and Julia didn’t bat an eye.

My fingers played itsy bitsy spider on her legs above her canary dress. For a college dorm with so many sounds it was interesting how silent it felt. I didn’t need to look up at her to know she was looking at me.

“So…,” I said, still looking down, “you packed for tomorrow?”

“Nope,” she said, with a popping noise on the p.

“I left my stuff in the car.”

Julia twirled the hair above my ear. “Might wanna take care of that, dude,” she said. “Campus gets some break-ins at night.”

“Oh. Should I?–”

“–not now,” she whispered. “You got time. We…got time.”

Suddenly I was reminded of the trees on the highway.

Julia took a large swig of her beer and put it on the floor. I followed suit. She put her arms over my shoulders and got very close.

“You smell nice,” she said. Her breathing was warm. “I missed you.”

I put my hand on her thigh. “I’ve been aching, not having you around,” I said. “It’s been hard.”

“Well, here I am dude.”

I was breathing heavier now. The air felt warm between us. The silence hung in that air like a water droplet, fully engorged, on the precipice of falling into its right place.

We leaned into each other and kissed, and the familiarity pummeled me like tsunami waves. It was beyond the muscle memory of our previous times together. It harkened to what was, is, and will be, for eternity. And the trees swayed along the hills and the air was crisp and pungent.

Julia nibbled on my lower lip and let out an mmmmm that channeled into my body. Her cheeks were soft and I gave her hips a squeeze. We parted our embrace. I exhaled like I was blowing out a candle across the room. Julia giggled her giggle and we hugged, which felt just as nice as the kiss. She fanned herself.

“Dude,” she said. “Dude.”

I thought to say something but instead I kissed her again. This time we opened our mouths and our tongues began to take control. It was cute and lustful. My recognition of that lust made the blood rush down below and our hands started exploring our bodies. One of the yellow lights in the room flickered for a moment.

“I think I have to change,” she said.

“Really? That dress looks great on you,” I said.

Her horizon of green irises stared into me and she said, “Not my dress.”

“Oh?” I licked my lips.

She put her arms back onto my shoulders and got close. “I’m a little too wet.”

“Ohhh? You are?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

My heartbeat increased. “Stick out your tongue,” I said.

Julia looked at me like she was playfully reluctant. But she stared at me unblinking and seductive, and went ahhh when she presented her tongue. I curled my lips around it and sucked on it all over. The moment I finished Julia said, “Now, you.” And she did the same to me, tasting it.

“I’m so wet,” she whispered. We fluttered our tongues together.

I broke from our flutter. “Let me eat it.”

“Oh god,” she said.

I squeezed her breasts while kissing her. “Let me eat it.”

The doorknob rattled then burst open and a singular mass of backpacks, arms bags, books, loose rolled posters, and a poster tube flew in, all being carried by a five foot being whose leg kicked backwards and slammed the door shut in a single fluid motion. I took my hand off Julia’s breast while we both watched the mass shed its bags and books and posters to the floor. A young woman, now emerging from the clutter, turned away from us, was tying her hair and exhaling.

“I swear, Jules, this field feels toxic sometimes. It’s like, ok, they want us to go to these conferences to ignite our passions, to explore the unknown! To break the surly bonds and go where no one has gone before–orr-orr-orr. Of course, then, they use some Carl Sagan quote to pump us up. But then you go to these conferences Jules and–”

She turned around.

“Oh my!” said the girl. She fiddled with her nails. “How…umm, hello! I’m Emily.” She gave me a firm and aggressive handshake that I kept feeling after she let go.

“Uh,” Emily said. “Oh! Oh this is Friday, right! Today’s that day, and…here you are! Yes, yes, I got it now. I got it now!”

“Girl,” said Julia. “Why so much stuff? Also, why didn’t you put the posters in the poster tube?”

“Nice to meet you, by the way,” I said.

“Yes, yes. Nice to meet you too, sir. I mean, young man!” said Emily.

“Oh my god Emily,” said Julia.

“Strapping young lad,” said Emily, in a pretend dad voice. She put a leg up on a chair and kept going with the bit. “You know, sonny, back in my day–”

“Em!” said Julia.

Emily was short and stocky and looked like she hadn’t stood still in a decade. She had curly brown hair, highlighted blonde, and sharp red-rimmed glasses. She was wearing a black t-shirt of HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Emily adjusted her glasses. “Jules, wow! Look at you, putting it together. Rawr, sister. Meoww. Hissssss.”

“This is my roommate,” said Julia, dropping her hands and her head.

Emily scuttled to the bed and jumped on with us. “Aww, I’m just kidding!” She hugged Julia tight and pressed her cheek against her face. “I love you more than Carl.”

“I believe that you’re kidding,” said Julia. “I don’t believe the Carl thing.”

“My husband,” said Emily to me, flitting her eyelashes to the sky. “In another life, I suppose I could have been Mrs. Sagan.”

“Anyway,” said Julia.

“Yes, anyway. The conferences,” said Emily.

“No, the posters!” said Julia.

“Ah, but madame, therein lies the rub. For you see, the posters…drum roll please….are for, the conference!!”

“What conference?”

“Lpsc in Houston.