Date: Fri, 4 Jun 2010 06:46:51 EDT
From: BertMcK@aol.com
Subject: Dancing on the Tundra, Chapter 5

DANCING ON THE TUNDRA
by Bert McKenzie
Copyright 2010

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to any real
person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.

CHAPTER V

     The room was empty and appeared positively sterile with its
white painted walls of cement blocks.  The wall opposite the door
had a large row of windows that looked out on a construction
sight just next door.  Under the windows were two identical desks
with two identical desk chairs.  On the wall beside the door and
opposite the windows were two narrow closets with louvered metal
doors that folded in the middle to open.  The closets were
separated by a built in unit of four drawers and a narrow counter
top backed by a dirty mirror.  The only other furniture in the
room was a large, conspicuous structure of black metal that held
two incredibly thin looking mattresses in the tandem arrangement
of bunk beds.

     Terry sat his bags down just inside the door and stepped to
the windows to look out at the depressing view of torn earth and
poured concrete.  He took a deep breath and thought about his
situation.  This was the first time he had ever been away from
home other than short, overnight trips on speech contests.  Now
here he stood with packed luggage, his parents already well on
the way driving home.  He wasn't sure if he wanted to sing or
cry.  The bitter taste of home sickness was warring with the
sweet elation of freedom he felt at finally being on his own.
Terry took another deep breath and turned back to his luggage to
begin unpacking.

     An hour later everything was neatly stored in drawers and
one of the closets.  Books were arranged on a desk and the top
bunk had been made up with the sheets, blanket and pillow case
that were carefully folded and lying there when he came in.
Terry realized that most people would want the bottom bunk and by
rights it should belong to the first person in the room, but he
deliberately selected the top.  Terry had never slept in bunk
beds before, but the idea of climbing into the lofty bed somehow
appealed to him.

     Once everything was situated in the room he decided he
should go out and investigate his surroundings.  There was quite
a bit of noise and commotion going on in the narrow dorm hallway
as the occupants of other rooms moved in, dragging suitcases and
stereo equipment behind them.  At the far end Terry noticed a
heavy set boy with short brown hair and dark rimmed glasses
leaning against the wall.  The boy looked as lost as Terry felt,
so he wandered down the hall in that direction.

     "Hi," the kid said as he saw Terry approach.  "I'm Brent
Miller."

     "Terry Michaelson," Terry responded reaching out to shake
hands.

     The boy peered warily at him then slowly took his hand in a
nervous, tentative clasp.  "My roommate hasn't shown up yet," he
added to fill in the silence that developed.

     "Mine, neither," Terry responded and wondered how he could
excuse himself to run back to his room and shut the door.  He was
suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the situation, the fear of
meeting new people and learning new patterns of behavior.

     "You want to go get some dinner?" the boy asked.

     "Yeah, okay.  Let me grab my wallet and keys."  He ran down
the crowded hall and retrieved his belongings, then closed and
locked the door to his room.  Returning he found his new friend
waiting on the stairs.  They walked down the three flights to the
ground and headed across campus to the student union in search of
the cafeteria.  As they walked, Brent told Terry he came from a
tiny rural community upstate.  He was an English major and
planned to teach high school.  Terry replied by telling a little
about himself, including his major in theatre and performing
arts.  They soon found themselves having dinner in the union
cafeteria and complaining about the food.  It turned out that
Brent, too, was a Catholic so they made plans to attend Mass the
next day, Sunday, which was celebrated in a lecture hall on
campus.

     After dinner Terry went back to Brent's room where they sat
and talked until late into the night.  "I guess I should go back
to my room," Terry finally said, trying to stifle a yawn.

     "Did you ever use to sleep over at a friend's house?" Brent
asked quickly.

     "Well, sure," Terry lied.  He didn't want to admit that he
never really had any friends except Paula.  He wondered how she
was getting on at the other big state university.

     "You want to spend the night?  I mean you don't have a
roommate yet and neither do I."

     "Okay," Terry agreed readily.  He was relieved at the
prospect of not having to sleep all alone in a strange room.
Even more so, it was a novelty to have a friend who would extend
such an invitation.  "Let me go get my pajamas."

     Brent looked at him with wide eyes.  "You sleep in pajamas?
Gee, I've always just slept in my underwear."  Terry explained
that the pajamas were actually his mother's idea.  She thought it
would be what other boys wore.  The two of them stripped down and
climbed into the beds, Terry again taking the top bunk.  Again
they resumed their conversations until sleep finally overtook
them.

                            *   *   *

     The next day Terry and Brent attended a folk Mass on campus
and enjoyed themselves thoroughly.  The music, the singing, the
sermon, everything seemed specially adapted to them.  Terry had
always hated Sundays.  He hated having to get up early, dress in
uncomfortable clothes and then sit, stand and kneel through a
long, boring and irrelevant service.  Now the Church seemed to
come alive.  He could understand the feeling of community that
had always seemed lacking even in the Catholic grade and high
school he had attended.  It was a palpable sensation that filled
the lecture hall and moved freely through the congregation.
After Mass Terry felt truly renewed and invigorated.  He talked
Brent into walking downtown so they could get a Sunday meal in a
local restaurant rather than again suffering the cafeteria.

     That afternoon a pre-season football game was being held in
the stadium just down from the dorm.  Terry and Brent planned to
attend with seven or eight of their new acquaintances from their
floor.  The whole experience was new to Terry.  He felt totally
accepted by the others.  He was no longer 'Tutti, the misfit.'
He was no longer different from the others.  All those terrible
things that had happened to him, the things he had brought on
himself by his immoral thoughts and desires, they were gone, a
part of the past to be forgotten and left buried beneath the ice
of the tundra.  As the afternoon began the group marched down to
the stadium and were admitted by simply showing their ID cards.
When Brent produced his card, the gate attendant refused him
entrance.  The ID had been improperly stamped when he paid his
fees, so they could not admit him until he cleared the matter up
with the business office.  Brent was furious, but he had no
choice but to turn back.

     "Can't he just buy a ticket?" Terry asked the man at the
gate.

     "I'm not paying for something I should get for free," Brent
exclaimed.  "I'll see you guys after the game."

     Terry stood in the gateway, uncertain of what to do.  He
wanted to go with the gang that had finally accepted him, but he
felt badly for his new friend.  "Let's go, Terry," one of the
others called out as they headed for the stairs to the upper
level of the concrete stadium structure.

     "You go ahead.  I'll see you later," he called back and
fought his way against the crowd and back out of the gate.  "Hey,
Brent.  Wait up."

     Brent's face lit up as he saw his new friend.  "You're going
to give up the game?" he asked, slightly confused.

     "I was only going because everybody else was," Terry
explained.  "I really don't even like football."

     The two boys decided to take a walk instead.  They walked
off campus and downtown, then continued on to a little park about
three miles from the university.  They chatted about everything
on the way, beginning with Terry's dislike of sports and Brent's
allergies and ending with their concepts of God and man's place
in the universe.  At the park the two sat in swings and continued
talking.  "I don't mind watching a good game of baseball or
football," Brent explained as they circled back to the subject of
sports.  "But I really don't like playing.  I'm too fat to run.
What I really like is roller skating."

     "Roller skating?" Terry asked incredulously.  He had to
suppress a laugh at the thought of this chubby boy on wheels.

     "Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

     Terry suddenly grew quiet.  "Nothing.  I just never really
thought of roller skating as a sport."

     "So what about you?" Brent asked.  "What's your secret
passion?"

     For a moment Terry grew pale, then quickly recovered.  "I
want to be a dancer."

     "That's it!" Brent said enthusiastically.  "That's why you
have such muscular legs for a guy who hates sports.  I wondered
about that."  Terry blushed at the thought of his new friend
examining his legs.  He was wearing shorts after all, and he did
look at other guys' legs, but he was sure no one else did such
things.  Maybe this was healthy after all.

     The two friends had grown much closer in their shared
experiences on their long walk.  They were laughing and joking
happily when they returned to the dorm to find that they each had
a new roommate.  The newcomers had moved in that afternoon.

                            *   *   *

     Terry had written to Frances about seven times.  She was a
friend from home and he felt he could rely on her for continual
correspondence.  Besides, it made him feel 'normal' to brag about
his beautiful girl friend.  Other guys lost no time in dating
young college co-eds and Terry felt the pressure to conform.  His
letters to Frances gave him that option until he received a reply
in late September.  She politely thanked him for his interest and
asked him not to write again.  She said she wanted to develop a
relationship with someone who was more manly.  Apparently, he did
not fit into her preconceived image of a boy friend.  On the same
day he had received a letter from Paula as well.  She told him
all about the wonderful time she was having at Midstate U.  This
only served to deepen his depression.

     Terry left his room and climbed the stairs to the Benny
Meditation Room, a small library located on the sixth floor of
the dorm.  The room was comfortably furnished in plush leather
couches and dark wood paneling.  There were Bibles and other
religious and inspirational books lining the low shelves on one
wall.  The light switch was on a dimmer so one could adjust it
down for contemplation or up for reading.  The few times Terry
had wandered into the room it had always been deserted.  Now he
stood at the long windows on the west wall and watched the sunset
over the girls dorms in a splash of russet and gold.  He
continued to stand at the window for hours, watching the street
lights come on across the campus below.

     The door opened and the lights flashed on to full intensity
sealing the outside world in a blanket of blackness.  "Here he
is.  I found him," a voice said.  Terry turned to the door,
blinking in the bright glare of the light.  Todd, the math major
from across the hall stood in the doorway.  "Man, we thought
maybe you killed yourself."

     "I what?" Terry asked in surprise.

     "Your roommate found your girlfriend's letter on your desk.
He told us she dumped you, and when nobody knew where you were .
. ."

     "I'm okay," Terry said stiffly and headed out of the room
and down the stairs.

     He passed several others who had been searching for him.
"Sorry about your girlfriend, man," "Tough break," and "Too bad
about that Frances bitch," were expressions he heard as he made
his way back to his room.  He finally reached his destination and
closed the door.  His roommate was out, so Terry relaxed a bit.
He was ready for an argument.  Gary had no right to read his
personal mail, even if it was lying face up in full view on his
desk.  Further Gary had no right to tell everyone about the
contents of that letter.  Terry was humiliated in front of all
his new friends.  He undressed, put out the lights and climbed
into his bunk, trying to go to sleep and wipe out all the
unpleasantness of the day.

     Terry again tried to examine the day as he had so many times
in the past.  He thought about Frances and her letter.  He
thought her dumping him would hurt, but it didn't.  He realized
that he didn't really love her, or even like her that much, and
he knew he didn't like her pushy father who was always trying to
play matchmaker and slipping him money on the side.  If anything,
her letter saved him the trouble of breaking up with her.  Still,
his ego was bruised.  As to his love life, he was now free to
begin dating.  That was the scary part.  Frances was safe, a
letter now and then to keep up appearances.  He wasn't sure about
actively dating a real girl.  All the other guys seemed to have
no problem, but he wasn't like the other guys.

     Next Terry thought about Paula.  He really missed her
companionship.  Even during most of their senior year when they
weren't speaking, they still lived next door to each other.  Now
she was a hundred miles away and apparently enjoying her college
immensely.  Of course he wrote and told her much the same thing,
but the truth was, he was lonely.  He now had more friends than
he had ever had before, but even so he felt oppressively alone.
Paula might understand if only he could talk with her, see her,
spend a long Saturday afternoon.  Brent was a good friend but he
wasn't the same.  He didn't know what Terry had been through.  He
wasn't there after prom night.  He couldn't sympathize like
Paula.

     The thought of Brent brought him back to his friends and
companions in the dorm.  They all seemed to accept him as he was,
unlike the kids in high school who spent their time making fun of
him.  In fact most of the floor had been concerned and had been
actively looking for him, fearing for his life.  They worried
that he might be depressed enough to suicide.  The thought of
killing himself over Frances brought a smile to his lips.  The
realization of the caring concern expressed by his new friends
brought an inner warmth that caused his smile to broaden.

     The suicide incident then reminded Terry of the letter and
of Gary reading it.  He couldn't see that maybe Gary was as
concerned as the others.  All he could see was that Gary had read
his mail and told all of his friends that he had been dumped.
The anger slowly cooled his inner warmth and his smile
disappeared.  He would confront Gary in the morning.  This
thought seemed to hover over him like a cloud as he finally
drifted off the sleep.

     Terry was dreaming and in his dreams he was in a western
movie.  Everything was shaded in black and white, a grey prairie
stretching out to the horizon, a darker grey horse beneath him.
He could feel the gentle, rocking motion as he rode across the
prairie on his dark grey horse.  At times when he looked down the
horse beneath him seemed to be a huge naked man on all fours,
then it would become a horse again.  He became physically excited
as he realized that he was only wearing his undershorts.  Terry
enjoyed the movement and sensations as he rode the horse that was
occasionally a man.  Suddenly there was a tremendous bump and he
found himself lying on the ground.  The dark grey horse rose up
and transformed again to a naked man standing above him.  "Now
it's my turn to ride," the horse/man said.  Terry felt the fear
welling up as he struggled to get away from the creature.
Everything seemed to fade away to darkness, everything except the
rocking motion and the creature's voice.  "Spread your legs
wider," it whispered.  "This bed is too narrow."  The rocking
movement bounced and jerked roughly, then the creature moaned as
if it was in pain.

     "Be quiet," the voice hissed.  "You'll wake him up."

     "If he doesn't wake up with all the shaking of this
bed . . . oh, yeah."

     Terry realized he was no longer dreaming.  He was instantly
aware of his surroundings.  He was lying on his stomach in his
bed in the darkness of the dorm room, but something was wrong.
The bed was shaking, rocking back and forth as if it was riding
the horse about which he had dreamed.  He rose his head from the
pillow trying to understand what was happening.  Perhaps he was
experiencing an earthquake.  Then he heard other sounds, the
squeak of springs from the bunk below and the heavy breathing of
its occupant.  Terry leaned out and looked down.

     The light from a full moon came in through the open windows
and cast an angular trapezoid of pale white on the scene below.
Two bodies were moving rhythmically in the bunk beneath him.  He
could easily see the naked back and pumping hips of someone,
presumably his roommate, as the boy had intercourse with someone
beneath him.  Terry was shocked into mute silence as he realized
that Gary had brought a girl into their room and was having sex
just below him in the lower bunk.  Terry was embarrassed by the
fact that they would do such a thing in the same room,
essentially in the same bed since their movements had awakened
him.  He was further embarrassed that he'd caught them at it, and
that he lay there watching.

     Suddenly Gary tensed and a low moan of satisfaction filled
the room.  Terry pulled back, trying to pretend that none of this
had happened.  He prayed silently, begging for instant sleep.  He
didn't want to hear any more of their love making.  But he did
hear.

     The bed shook as the lovers moved.  "God, what a mess,"
Gary's voice said softly and then the two both began to giggle.
"Let's go take a shower."

     Terry couldn't believe the audacity.  His roommate had
brought a girl into their room after hours and had sex in his
bunk while Terry was sleeping just above.  Now he planned to
sneak her to the communal bathrooms for a shower.  Terry peaked
out of slitted eyes as the two shadowy figures moved across the
room.  The door opened letting in a shaft of light from the hall.
In the doorway Terry saw two men silhouetted before they slipped
out, closing the door behind them.

     Gary was a homo!  He just had sex with another man!  Terry's
mind reeled at the thought.  This was beyond belief.  Terry knew
such things were dirty and sinful, and usually violent, yet he
had heard giggles.  These two were doing this freely.  They
really must be perverted to have sex and enjoy it.  At least he
knew that although he might have had immoral desires, the sex was
something he was forced to do.  What had just happened in his
room was wrong and it was sick.

     Terry dropped back on the pillow, trying not to think of
what had just happened.  He wanted out of this awful place.  He
hadn't ever been homesick until now.  He just wanted the comfort
of his own room, and his parents just down the hall.

     Another terrifying thought occurred to him.  If Gary was a
homo and if others knew, what would they think of Terry?  He
thought sure he had left the persecution behind in Springfield.
He had friends here at college, something he had never had
before.  If they thought he was queer they might treat him the
way the kids in high school had.  They might pick on him and make
fun of him.  They might even force him to have sex, using his
body.

     The door opened and Gary entered the room alone.  He
silently crossed the room and slipped into his bunk.  He tossed
and turned for a bit, then eventually began to breathe in a
steady, regular pattern.  Quite some time later be began to snore
softly, but Terry lay awake through all of this.  Terry lay awake
all night long trying to plan what he should do.  Finally as the
room began to lighten from the dawn outside the windows, Terry
got up and quietly dressed.  He went down the hall to Brent's
room and tapped softly on the door.  He had to repeat his knock
several times before it was eventually answered.

     "Terry, what's up?" Brent asked as he opened the door.  He
was still in his undershorts and his hair was standing up in
several odd angles.

     "I need to talk to you," Terry said quietly.

     "Okay, I've got an early class anyway.  Let me take a shower
and get dressed.  I'll meet you downstairs in the rec. room in a
little while."  He closed the door before Terry could protest.

     About thirty minutes later Terry was telling Brent about the
experience.  He tried to cover his inner fears of association by
expressing loathing and disgust for the unnatural act that had
taken place in his room.  He was really upset.  He didn't know
what to do, but he was sure he didn't want it to happen again.
Brent suggested that Terry take the matter to Mother Barry.  She
was their house mother.  It was her duty to take care of such
things.

     That very afternoon Terry found himself sitting in a rather
sterile living room.  Mother Barry had an apartment at one end of
the first floor north wing.  It was furnished with Spartan taste,
a couple of chairs and a couch with one small coffee table in the
center of the room of blue painted concrete blocks.  The only
real splash of color was a large print of abstract flowers
hanging on one wall.  Mother Barry herself was an imposing
figure, which was probably how she won the job of house mother to
the boy's dorm.  She stood nearly six feet tall in her flat,
orthopedic shoes and must have weighed close to 300 pounds.  Her
thick, masculine face was covered with what looked like a grey
peach fuzz beard.  Her severe grey hair pulled into a tight bun
matched the coldness of her grey eyes.

     The woman gestured for Terry to sit, then lowered her bulk
onto the couch opposite him.  "What's the problem?" she asked
without preamble in a deep voice that matched her masculine
appearance.  Terry felt weak and foolish under her stony
scrutiny, but he summoned up his courage and repeated the story.
When he was finished he felt no sense of relief.  The woman's
face never changed once, not showing any signs of sympathy,
understanding or encouragement.  "So what do you want me to do
about it?" she finally asked when a long pause made it obvious
that Terry had completed his story.

     He was stunned.  He hadn't expected this kind of response.
"I don't know," he fumbled.  "Make them stop."  She didn't
respond but just kept staring at him.  "Or . . . or maybe you
could move me to a different room."

     This was something the woman could apparently understand.
She immediately began an explanation of how many students were
housed on campus and how many rooms were available.  She finished
by standing up and escorting him to the hall.  "I may be the
house mother," she said in a gravelly voice, "but I'm not here to
hold your hand or wipe your nose.  It sounds like you've got a
lot of growing up to do and getting along with others is one of
the most important lessons you can learn here at Trusdale Hall."
The door closed firmly behind him.  Terry was no longer upset
about the incident that had occurred in his room overnight.  He
was now angry with the old woman who obviously didn't care about
the problems of her charges.