under a sprawling oak with hanging Spanish moss. Carol set one foot on a bench and lit up a cigarette with nervous hands. “I’ve taken him before. Failed his class three times so far.”
“Are you serious?”
“No, his tests really suck.”
“Great,” I quipped sarcastically.
“Every semester, he tries to make an example out of something I say. The little fuck.”
“Why do you take it?” I asked.
“’Cause he’s a damn good teacher, the prick. Probably the best I’ve ever had.”
I marveled at how she could admit that he was a good teacher in spite of her frustration. It was clear on the first day that Film Appreciation was going to be an intense course. At first, the auditorium was filled with students who thought it would be a breezy elective that would enable them to sit back and watch movies the whole time. What they didn’t realize was that the movies were going to be analyzed, some frame by frame, and that long essays would be required to explain the themes and vital elements of each one.
They also assumed we’d be viewing popular Hollywood movies. While some were included, there were many more films from around the globe—French, Eastern European—all with subtitles and more complex, unfamiliar ways of telling a story. For some, just the word “subtitle” made them break out in a sweat. By the second class, I had no trouble finding a seat in the much less packed auditorium.
I shook my head, as we trudged across the grass. “Why do you think so many girls don’t care about sexism in film?”
“Today’s girls are idiots,” Carol exclaimed. “Their bra-burning mothers had the right idea. But they did too many drugs, so their kids are fuckin’ zombies.”
“Interesting theory.”
“It’s not a theory. It’s the truth. Everyone in the sixties messed up their genetic codes. The next generation’s brains were compromised. I read it in a magazine.” Carol had a way of stating everything as if it were the gospel.
“Oh.”
We continued walking together under a clump of threatening clouds.
Chapter Seventeen
That evening, I went to the on-campus grill to meet Adrienne for dinner. Our argument last night about the sexism in heavy metal videos must’ve really made her mad for her to leave me a note with a meeting place on it. Would she be carrying a gun to shoot me? Of course not. That was paranoia. After all, a restaurant was a public place.
I walked into The Meat Grinder and scanned the blazing red walls, which were covered with artsy black and white photographs of bare body parts. It seemed a little racy, but I reminded myself that I was now a college student and a long way from Bible school. I soon found Adrienne standing in a long line at the counter, straining to read a chalk-scribbled menu.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey.”
“I’m surprised you wanted to meet me.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged, but of course I knew why. Adrienne made me feel like an activist who would tie myself to trees or something. It bothered me. Why should I feel the need to curb my opinions when I was around her?
“Can we get hamburgers?” Adrienne asked.
“Yeah, it’s the first one on the board. Can you see it?”
“No.” She strained so hard to see the menu that she almost fell on the person in front of her.
“Put on your glasses,” I said.
“I don’t want to.”
I smiled to myself as I realized that she was embarrassed to be seen wearing her reading glasses. I liked knowing a secret about her. It made me feel good…special…confused.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I smiled. This wasn’t exactly the conversation I’d imagined when I came here tonight.
“Is there a chicken sandwich?” Adrienne asked.
“No, that would be the duck à l’orange.”
She shot me a dirty look. “Bite me.”
When it was her turn, she said, “I’ll have a chicken patty sandwich.”
The counter guy looked at me. “The Cobb salad,” I said. I’d
“Are you serious?”
“No, his tests really suck.”
“Great,” I quipped sarcastically.
“Every semester, he tries to make an example out of something I say. The little fuck.”
“Why do you take it?” I asked.
“’Cause he’s a damn good teacher, the prick. Probably the best I’ve ever had.”
I marveled at how she could admit that he was a good teacher in spite of her frustration. It was clear on the first day that Film Appreciation was going to be an intense course. At first, the auditorium was filled with students who thought it would be a breezy elective that would enable them to sit back and watch movies the whole time. What they didn’t realize was that the movies were going to be analyzed, some frame by frame, and that long essays would be required to explain the themes and vital elements of each one.
They also assumed we’d be viewing popular Hollywood movies. While some were included, there were many more films from around the globe—French, Eastern European—all with subtitles and more complex, unfamiliar ways of telling a story. For some, just the word “subtitle” made them break out in a sweat. By the second class, I had no trouble finding a seat in the much less packed auditorium.
I shook my head, as we trudged across the grass. “Why do you think so many girls don’t care about sexism in film?”
“Today’s girls are idiots,” Carol exclaimed. “Their bra-burning mothers had the right idea. But they did too many drugs, so their kids are fuckin’ zombies.”
“Interesting theory.”
“It’s not a theory. It’s the truth. Everyone in the sixties messed up their genetic codes. The next generation’s brains were compromised. I read it in a magazine.” Carol had a way of stating everything as if it were the gospel.
“Oh.”
We continued walking together under a clump of threatening clouds.
Chapter Seventeen
That evening, I went to the on-campus grill to meet Adrienne for dinner. Our argument last night about the sexism in heavy metal videos must’ve really made her mad for her to leave me a note with a meeting place on it. Would she be carrying a gun to shoot me? Of course not. That was paranoia. After all, a restaurant was a public place.
I walked into The Meat Grinder and scanned the blazing red walls, which were covered with artsy black and white photographs of bare body parts. It seemed a little racy, but I reminded myself that I was now a college student and a long way from Bible school. I soon found Adrienne standing in a long line at the counter, straining to read a chalk-scribbled menu.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey.”
“I’m surprised you wanted to meet me.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged, but of course I knew why. Adrienne made me feel like an activist who would tie myself to trees or something. It bothered me. Why should I feel the need to curb my opinions when I was around her?
“Can we get hamburgers?” Adrienne asked.
“Yeah, it’s the first one on the board. Can you see it?”
“No.” She strained so hard to see the menu that she almost fell on the person in front of her.
“Put on your glasses,” I said.
“I don’t want to.”
I smiled to myself as I realized that she was embarrassed to be seen wearing her reading glasses. I liked knowing a secret about her. It made me feel good…special…confused.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I smiled. This wasn’t exactly the conversation I’d imagined when I came here tonight.
“Is there a chicken sandwich?” Adrienne asked.
“No, that would be the duck à l’orange.”
She shot me a dirty look. “Bite me.”
When it was her turn, she said, “I’ll have a chicken patty sandwich.”
The counter guy looked at me. “The Cobb salad,” I said. I’d
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