Message of Love by Jim Provenzano

left the locker room.
    “I’m not sure. I’d have to look up what the topic is this year.” College debate teams followed a national schedule, choosing pro and con sides according to some obscure regulations whose rules eluded me, despite Everett’s explanation.
    “He’s pretty cute,” Everett said.
    “You think?”
    “I saw you checkin’ him out.”
    “Well, he was kind of showing off.”
    “You think we were being hit on?” he feigned shock.
    “I think you were being hit on.”
    It turned out we were both wrong. Jacob, while okay with us being gay, and a couple, had not been hitting on us, despite being naked when we’d met.
    Now, more than a month later, their informal debate continued in Everett’s room. I glanced up from my chapter section on monocotyledon and dicotyledon plants. Leaf veins, flower petals and other parts had subtle differences. I noted an amusing ‘Did You Know,’ that banana trees were actually large grass plants and not trees at all.
    Jacob shifted forward to grab a cookie from a bag on the floor. He joked about having narrowly escaped one of many group activities in his dorm, Stouffer Hall.
    Jacob’s rapid speech, his talkative nature about everything from his Jewish family heritage to local cuisine, combined with what he called, “our mutual cultural history of oppression,” made him one of our few shared friends at Penn. He never asked questions about Everett’s disability, but listened if the topic was brought up. His studies in social justice paralleled both our interests.
    So when he and Everett spent an evening in his dorm room at least once a week discussing politics, even while veering off course from their topic and what Everett called his Notes and Quotes card box, I enjoyed listening in while doing my own work.
    “What do you think, Reid?” Jacob crumpled the bag of cookies, tossed it into the trash can, and licked off a coating of crumbs from his fingers.
    “Me?” I’d been poring over a half-assed chart on plant cell walls, coloring in a mimeographed drawing to differentiate the cellulose from the hemicellulose.
    “You’re obviously into the environment,” said Jacob. “What’s your solution to the energy crisis?”
    I glanced at Everett for assistance, but he merely offered a coy grin, his chin resting on his palm.
    “Uh, well, solar and wind power, for starters.”
    “Okay, but what about fuel?” Jacob asked. “Diesel, petroleum?”
    “Well, we need to cut off dependence on foreign oil, of course.”
    “Catch phrase,” Everett muttered.
    “Hey, I’m just answering his question,” I shot back.
    “And I’m critiquing the argument structure, not the emotion of the presenter,” Everett tossed off his reply.
    “Okay, purely for the sake of argument,” I aimed that last word at Everett before going on full attack. “We cut off OPEC, halt all logging, subsidize hemp for fiber and paper production, offer tax incentives for all new housing that includes solar and wind upgrades, and, and fine polluting industries into extinction, before we’re extinct.”
    Everett sighed as he rolled himself over onto his side, then yanked one leg up a bit, pulling it into a forced stretch. “And there you have it. The liberal approach taken to its extreme is isolationist, anti-business and totalitarian in its basic ideology.”
    I shook my head as if stunned. “Well, he asked for my opinion,” I muttered before returning to my stupid little cell cartoon.
    “You’re lucky you’re just his boyfriend and not his debate opponent,” Jacob joked as he stood. “We’ll have to solve the entire world’s problems some other night.” He gathered his notes and books.
    Everett rolled over. “Hey, we were thinking about going to movie night at the quad tomorrow night; Escape From New York . Wanna come with?”
    “Actually, I have a date. Marcy; freshman and very blonde.”
    “Girlfriend material?”
    Jacob stuffed his papers in his backpack. “More like a hot