Kinky Confessions

even if no one dies, failures like Tacoma Narrows or the John Hancock Tower cost a lot of money.”

He nodded judiciously. “Those were failures of engineering more than design.”

“Maybe,” I argued, “but bad design is difficult to engineer safely.

Besides, we aren’t Apollodorus or Brunelleschi, where the architect is also the builder.”

“How so?”

“We work in a multidisciplinary field, Professor.” I realized that I was talking to a man who had more years of real-world experience than I’d been alive, but I still felt the need to explain. “We need civil and structural engineers, mechanical and electrical, landscape and lighting, interior designers and even artists. Our buildings are more than just designs. They’re complex systems, and every detail is important.”

“Perhaps you are correct,” he said at last, “you have grown up.” Then he gave me a piercing look. “Your proposal is accepted, but you must still work hard if you wish to succeed with it.”

I grinned. “Hard work never bothered me. I’d’ve quit long before now if it did.”

“Very well,” he agreed. “I must also work hard. And I have other students besides you, Mr. Hughes. Please send in the next one. Good day.”

“Good day, Professor.” I gathered my things and could’ve sworn the old tyrant was smiling at my back as I left.

Later that afternoon, Glen surprised me at the end of judo practice.

“I been thinkin’,” he said in his usual laconic way. “’Bout joinin’ the Army.”

I stared at him. “For real?”

“Yeah.”

“When? After you graduate?”

He shook his head. “Thursday.”

“Hold on… this Thursday?”

He nodded.

“What about school?”

“Droppin’ out. Before I flunk out.”

“What’s T.J. think?”

“Dunno. Haven’t told him.”

“Why not? I thought he was your best friend.”

“Maybe he used to be…” He shrugged. “He’s busy with the fraternity.”

“What about you? Aren’t you busy with them too?”

“Don’t really like most of them guys.”

I felt my brow wrinkle in surprise.

“Too many ‘Old South’ types.”

“I think I understand.”

“Thought you would.”

Kappa Alpha was semi-notorious on campus. The Pikes were the rich pricks, the Fijis were the party animals, and the ΚΑs were the old-school racists. They didn’t wear sheets or burn crosses, but they were entirely too nostalgic about the Confederacy and its traditions. Not all ΚΑs—the same as there were nice Pikes and serious Fijis—but too many.

Glen drew me back to the present. “So, I leave Thursday. Goin’ to visit my gram and then report for basic training. Wanted to tell you first.” He held out a pen and folded piece of notebook paper. “I was hopin’ to get your address so I can write you a letter when I get there.”

“Sure, absolutely.” I unfolded the paper and felt my chest tighten. Glen had written “Friends” across the top in blue ink. The page was blank otherwise. I wrote my address and added my parents’ for good measure.

“Where do you report to?” I asked as I handed it back.

“Fort McClellan. Alabama. Recruiter said I could be an MP.”

The reality of it finally hit me. “What’m I gonna do without you, Glen? I mean, you’re my friend, my sparring partner, my Zen mentor, my friend.”

“You said that already.” He grinned bashfully. “What’re you gonna do?

Stay in school. Marry that little girl you’re seein’. Build skyscrapers. Do great things. An’ remember, don’t rush to judgment. Be mindful. Live in harmony, mind and body.”

That was a long speech for him.

“I’ll try,” I said.

“Do, or do not. There is no try.”

“So now you’re Yoda?” I teased.

“Always liked that line,” he said, back to taciturn.

“Yeah, it’s a good one. Very Zen.” We shared a smile. “Are you having a

going-away party?”

“Don’t think so. Not my style.”

“No,” I agreed.

“So… this is probably goodbye.” He extended a hand.

I pulled him into a hug. “I’ll miss you, buddy.” I had to blink back sudden tears, but he didn’t tease me when we pulled apart.

“Yeah, me too,” he said instead.

“C’mon,” I said. “I’ll walk to the frat house with you.”

He shook his head. “You normally go the other way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Go on. I’ll be fine. But… thanks.”

“Yeah. Okay. Then I guess this is goodbye.”

He nodded.

We walked out to the street and parted with a silent wave. He turned toward Fraternity Row. I jogged the other way, across the street and toward a different life.

“Oh my gosh,” Christy said wearily as she closed the bedroom door, “you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

She’d been working late in her studio on the Kanagawa series.

“I finished with Wren’s part, but I have to do the whole thing again with Sayuri. And Siobhan thinks I really need a third piece, in between the young and the old. Whose dumb idea was it to do a series anyway?”

She shed her clothes in a trail across the floor. I suppressed my annoyance and decided to enjoy the view instead. She stood in front of the mirror on the dresser and began her nightly lotions and potions ritual. I listened politely as she wondered aloud where she’d find a model who fit the general shape and size of a middle-aged Japanese woman.