Monkey Business

layla has a girls’ night in

10:05 p.m.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Kimmy is standing in front of the sink, bawling her eyes out and coughing. She nods and wipes her eyes. “I’m fine.”

I pat her on the shoulder. “You are not fine. Why don’t you come to my room and we’ll talk?”

Instead of looking at me, she looks at her reflection. “Talk about what?”

“About whatever is bothering you.”

She hesitates, then says, “Okay. Let me clean myself up first.”

“Good idea. And I’ll just be a sec.” I quickly pee, since that is the reason I came to the bathroom in the first place, and then find Kimmy waiting for me by the door. “I think you need a girls’ night.”

She opens her mouth to say something, changes her mind, then opens it again. “Where’s your room?” she asks as she follows me down the hallway.

“Make a right at the fork.”

We walk in silence. Maybe inviting Kimmy wasn’t a good idea. All I really know about her is that she was in diaper commercials. She seems so lonely. And she appears to be in need of a good girlfriend as much as I am. I snap on the light.

She scans my setup. “Wow. Did you get a decorator in here?”

“Not quite. But I appreciate the compliment. Why don’t you sit?” I gesture to the purple beanbag in the corner. “Just throw the newspapers on the floor.” I have a week of business sections that I’ve forgotten to recycle. “Do you want some tea?”

She sits. “Tea? No thanks.”

“Oh, Come on. I have herbal, and it’s good for you.”

She shrugs. “Okay.” This girl is at the bottom of her emotional barrel.

I plug in the kettle on my night table and then pass Kimmy a chenille blanket and a box of chocolate cookies. She shakes her head. “I’m more of a chips girl.”

“More for me, then,” I say, and sit cross-legged on the bed. I eat a lot of chocolate. Especially when I’m not having sex. I need to get my endorphin fix from something. “So tell me your life story. What’s wrong?”

She opens her mouth and starts to cry.

“Don’t cry, it can’t be that bad.” For the first time since I arrived at school, I feel at home. I miss my girlfriends. I miss my sister. I miss hanging out. I miss drinking tea, eating cookies and talking about everything and nothing.

“It’s that bad, believe me. I got a D in Accounting, another D in Economics and an F on the Stats assignment.”

I inwardly cringe. “Big deal. It’s just one assignment. Or three. And the Accounting assignment was only worth ten percent.” Probably not the time to mention my A’s or the Excellent job! comment I received or that Professor Gold gave me a smiley-face sticker.

“Trust me, Layla, I won’t do better on the next ones. I’ll probably fail out.”

“Fail out! What kind of talk is that? You won’t fail out. You just started. Maybe you’re not working hard enough.” The kettle hums, and I pour the boiling water into two cups stuffed with chamomile tea bags.

“You don’t understand. It doesn’t matter how hard I work, I don’t understand anything. I don’t get it. I’m a moron. I don’t belong here.”

I hand her a cup. I love these cups. They’re from the Calvin Klein mahogany fine-china collection. “You’re being ridiculous. Your group will help you.”

“No, they won’t. I can’t ask them. We’re having some, uh, issues. One of the guys has a crush on me, and I don’t want to encourage him.”

Gossip! I’ve missed gossip. “Yeah? Who?”

“Do you know Jamie Grossman?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s in your group? He’s hilarious. We met in the shower a few weeks ago.” She looks at me with disbelief, and I laugh. “Sounds more sordid than it was. I ran out of conditioner, so I asked the person next to me to lend me some.”

She nods. “So that’s what he was talking about today when he said he realized who was in the shower.”

“Ha! I’m surprised it took him so long. I recognized his voice from class immediately.”

“He doesn’t shut up in class.”

And the point is…? “That doesn’t bother me.”

“You never shut up, either.” She clamps her hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

I giggle. “You’re right. I like to talk in class. No reason not to get the participation marks.”

“I never talk in class.”

“You should.”

She shrugs. “I never have anything to say.”

“Neither do half the people in our Block,” I say. “And they still talk.”

She smiles. “I didn’t mean to insult you earlier. You make good points in class. I’m jealous.”

“And I’m jealous of the poetry you get in the bathroom,” I say.

“How embarrassing are those poems!” she shrieks, covering her face with the blanket.

They are a little embarrassing, but definitely sweet. “You could probably just wash them off the walls,” I suggest.

“I know,” Kimmy says, “but I kind of like them.” She laughs. “We got together in orientation.”

“Really? You and Casanova? No wonder he’s writing you poetry. So what happened? He wasn’t any good?” I ask, automatically leaning toward her.

She covers her face with the blanket again.

Girl talk! Girl talk! I need some girl talk. “Come on, tell me!”

“Promise you won’t repeat?”

“Repeat? I would never.” The first rule of girl talk is that one must never repeat. “Spill it!”

“It was terrible. Terrible.” She brings her thumb and index finger about an inch apart.

I shriek with laughter.

“It didn’t even make it inside of me.”

How awful. “No wonder he follows you around. He wants another chance.”

“I know. Do you think a guy knows when he’s not good in bed?”

Now we’re talking. I dip into the box for cookie number three. “I don’t know. Does a woman?”

“I think I would know if I wasn’t good in bed. Which I am.” She smiles. “I have another secret. I have a huge crush on Russ.”

Ew. Puke-boy. I attempt to mask my revulsion. “Yeah?”

“Isn’t he gorgeous?”

I can’t help but picture him with vomit on his chin. “So? What’s the story?”

“There is no story. He has a girlfriend back home. And I have no boyfriend and I’m failing out of school.”

“Maybe I can help you,” I offer.

“Find a boyfriend?”

I’m about to throw a pillow at her, but I’m afraid I’ll end up spilling the tea on my five-hundred-thread-count Ralph Lauren sheets. “I’m talking about getting better grades. We can work on our assignments together.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

Why would I mind? It’ll be nice having someone to hang out with. “Not at all. It’ll be fun.”

She nods and looks around the room. “Thanks. I appreciate it. If you’re sure. If you change your mind, I’ll understand.”

If I change my mind, she’ll fail. “I’m sure.”

“Is there more hot water?” she asks. She crawls over to my night table and empties the rest of the kettle water into her cup. “Hey, who’s this?” She picks up the printout of Brad.

“Uh…no one.”

“No way, I told you everything about me!”

That’s true. A friendship is based on give and take. “It’s just some guy I’ve been admiring from afar.”

“You know, I’ve noticed Professor Jon has been admiring you from afar. He spends all class staring at you.”

“He’s not for me.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “Are you nuts? He’s hot and smart and sexy and he seems to want you. I’d go for it. So who is this guy?”

“I read applications for LWBS. And today I processed an application of the guy I want to marry. Is that weird?”

“A little. And this is him?”

I can’t believe I just told her that. “Yeah. But please don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“So are you going to call him?”

“No! I can’t. It’s unethical. His picture will be my sexual fodder for the rest of the year. And who knows? Maybe he’ll come to LWBS in the fall.” He’s already been good to me. I had two orgasms last night, back to back. They weren’t perfect orgasms, but you know what they say: bad sex is better than no sex. That’s my quest, to have the perfect orgasm. I figure I’ll know it when I have it.

She taps her index finger against Brad’s head. “By next year this one will be taken. If he isn’t already.”

Taken? He could be taken? I can’t fantasize about a man who’s taken.

She laughs. “Don’t look so upset! He might not be. Just call him.”

“He ticked off the single box. He’s not married. Damn applications. I wish they had a Do you have a girlfriend? box. Or Do you live with someone? box.”

“Call him,” she repeats.

“We’ll see.” There’s no way I’m calling him.

I dig into the second row of cookies. Looks like I’ll need to stock up on these endorphins.