The Freshman
Copyright 2005 by EC

Chapter 17 - Mr. Schmidt

Cecilia was so busy during the month of November that she did not 
realize how quickly the days were speeding by. Thanksgiving week 
came, along with the chaos of hundreds of freshmen trying to get 
out of Huntington Hall to see their families. Mike and Lisa left 
early in the week to travel to California, flying out for a 
rather frantic couple of days to spend time with his parents and 
later with her father in Reno. Ken was gone as well, off to visit 
his family, minus the tattoo he had been planning to have on his 
body by now. Perhaps that was just as well...one less thing to 
fight over with his father.

Cecilia felt very nervous as her trip to meet Jason's parents and 
his sister Cassie loomed. From what she had managed to learn from 
Jason about his family, it seemed they were typical upper class 
people with typical upper class problems. They had a very nice 
house in an affluent area just across the state line in 
Wisconsin. However, it seemed that his parents had a lot of 
problems in their marriage and there was tension between both 
parents and Jason's sister.

The trip to Wisconsin began on a cold, dreary Wednesday afternoon 
when Jason's father came to the university to pick them up. A 
large, imposing, well-groomed man shook Jason's hand and then 
greeted Cecilia. He was dressed in jeans and a University of 
Wisconsin sweatshirt. Mr. Schmidt's casual appearance surprised 
her somewhat. Cecilia felt very uneasy, as Jason's father looked 
her over with a somewhat disapproving expression. She was dressed 
in a nice business outfit, but that was part of the problem. The 
rich tended dress casually and to Mr. Schmidt, Cecilia's outfit 
looked out of place. Her dark skin bothered him as well, although 
he realized he could not make an issue out of that. This wasn't 
1950, after all.

Cecilia was perceptive enough to know that she had not made a 
good first impression on Jason's father. She wondered what to do 
next, and realized something important. She had been planning to 
watch her grammar and pay close attention to keeping her accent 
under control. Suddenly she had second thoughts about doing that. 
To hell with it, she thought, I'm going to be who I am, and 
they're just gonna have to deal with it. I'm not gonna try to be 
someone I'm not. Cecilia's decision turned out to be a very 
fortunate one, because had she gone with her original plan to try 
to artificially change her speech, Jason's father would have seen 
right through it and turned her efforts against her.

The car Mr. Schmidt stepped out of was a new BMW. Jason had 
previously explained that his father was partial to BMW's and 
bought a new one about once every two years. As she pondered the 
expensive, well-kept vehicle, Cecilia thought bitterly about her 
own mother's car, a huge, very beat-up 1972 Chevy that only 
somewhat worked. Her brother briefly had a flashy convertible, 
but it was seized by the police when he was arrested, and later 
sold at auction.

Cecilia began to wonder; if Mr. Schmidt replaced his own car once 
every couple of years, why Jason did not have a car. That seemed 
rather strange. He had everything else, but why not a car? She 
would have to ask him about that the next time she was alone with 
him.

They set out, taking a major road to the west to bypass the main 
part of Chicago and then proceeding north through the city's 
western suburbs. The trip itself was rather tense. Jason's father 
pummeled him with questions about his studies, only to be 
pleasantly surprised to learn that he was doing quite well in 
college. The conversation topic moved to his social life. Jason 
talked about his three friends and his relationship with Cecilia. 
As he talked, she wondered if he might mention her dominance over 
him. Fortunately Jason did not bring up that aspect of his 
relationship, nor did he mention anything about his strange 
notoriety from the Tri-Alpha 10-K run.

Mr. Schmidt's sudden interest in Jason's studies was another 
mystery to Cecilia. Jason had made no mention of any contact 
between his parents and himself since the beginning of the 
semester. It seemed that Cecilia was the only person who really 
took an interest in Jason's studies and over-all well being over 
the three months that she had known him. Now it seemed that Mr. 
Schmidt was trying to make up for lost time. Cecilia badly wanted 
to blurt out "Mr. Schmidt, I was the one who got Jason to study 
and kept an eye on him over the last three months. I was the one 
who kept him out of trouble. How come he hasn't heard from you, 
and how come you're now askin' him all these questions?" However, 
she held her tongue, not wanting conflict to ruin this trip any 
sooner than necessary.

They crossed the state line. It was the first time Cecilia had 
seen Wisconsin; in fact, it was the first time she had traveled 
outside Illinois since arriving nearly a year and a half before. 
As they drove along back roads over the pleasant countryside, Mr. 
Schmidt began talking to Cecilia, probing her to find out as much 
as he could about her. She recognized what he was doing; he was 
probing her in the same way she was used to probing people when 
she was getting to know them. She responded in her usual evasive 
manner, turning the questions back to Mr. Schmidt to try to get 
information out of him instead. He seemed irritated, but answered 
her questions: talking about his time in college, relating how he 
met Jason's mother, and explaining why the family had settled in 
Wisconsin instead of Illinois.

Seeing Jason's neighborhood was a bit of a shock, even though he 
already had shown her pictures of his house and his high school. 
Cecilia had thought that Dr. Burnside's house and neighborhood 
was nice, but the development where Burnside lived was nothing in 
comparison with the area Jason's house was located. Enormous 
flashy residences with vaulted entrances and fancy yards passed 
by Cecilia's eyes. There was an expensive SUV, BMW, or sports car 
parked in each driveway. There were attractive carved signs 
pointing to golf courses and country clubs, and other signs 
announcing that a particular lake or park was restricted to 
residents only.

Cecilia was impressed, but not in a positive way. She looked 
around at what seemed to her a sterile, alien environment. She 
had entered another world, a landscape that was appealing to the 
eye, but at the same time a world that was very cold and hostile. 
What struck her the most about the neighborhood was the absence 
of people. The yards and sidewalks were almost completely empty. 
She saw an occasional middle-aged jogger and one older man riding 
a lawn mower picking up leaves. That was it; no children, no 
younger people in sight at all. There is something very wrong 
about all this, she thought to herself. This place is just as bad 
as my housing project. Maybe it's bad in a different way, but 
it's just as bad.

Finally they arrived at Jason's house. The family had an 
additional BMW (which was being used to teach Cassie how to 
drive), and a new full-sized SUV. The garage had a full workshop, 
although Cecilia could tell by the condition of the tools that it 
rarely was used. There were two living rooms downstairs, one of 
which Cecilia later learned was called a "sitting room" and was 
not used on a day to day basis. That's just as well, she thought 
to herself, that furniture doesn't look very comfortable to sit 
in. 

Not only were there two living rooms, there also were two dining 
rooms. There was a large table near the kitchen where the family 
ate on a day-to-day basis, but then there was a more formal 
dining room with antique cabinets and a very expensive-looking 
dining set. And to think, this huge house, with its two living 
rooms, two dining rooms, basement, den, five bathrooms, and six 
bedrooms, was the residence of four people, now reduced to three 
with Jason no longer living at home. Cecilia peeked out through 
the bay window of the "informal" dining room, to see an air tent 
covering the family's pool. She suddenly realized she had 
forgotten to bring a swimsuit, which was too bad, because a few 
minutes wading in the water might have relieved her stress a bit.

She became more and more nervous. She clearly was out of her 
element, being in this over-sized house with its vaulted ceilings 
and impractical decorations. It seemed to her that a large 
portion of the house was not for living at all, but rather for 
show. This is totally ridiculous, she thought to herself. A house 
should be a comfortable place to live in...something practical, 
maybe like what Ruth Burnside has...not...this monstrosity. There 
was something enormously oppressive about the place and all its 
wasted space and resources. She had the feeling that even if she 
had grown up with too little space, perhaps Jason had grown up 
with too much. 

There was more unpleasantness coming her way. Mrs. Schmidt came 
home with Cassie and another teenager. All of them were dressed 
in expensive sweatsuits, all of them carrying tennis racquets. 
The woman and the two girls gave Cecilia a hostile dismissive 
glance. She still had not realized what the problem was, that she 
had over-dressed to meet Jason's family. The detail of her 
clothing gave her away as a poor person trying to be better than 
what she was. 

Things only got worse. While the three tennis princesses went 
upstairs, two Salvadoran maids arrived to begin cleaning the 
kitchen and the bathrooms. The two women stared at Cecilia with 
blatant curiosity as they began working. They spoke quietly to 
each other, careful not to let the guest overhear their 
conversation. They assumed, quite rightly, that she understood 
Spanish. Despair swept over her as the thought crossed her mind: 
"the only thing separating me from them two Salvadorans is my 
scholarship. If it wasn't for the scholarship, I'd be just like 
them, kneelin' in the bathroom cleanin' someone else's shit."

But then another thought crossed her mind, which gave her the 
confidence she needed to get through the uncomfortable weekend: 
"the only thing separating me from them bitches upstairs is their 
money. They're not any better than me. They're not even smart 
enough to clean up after themselves." She then heard Ruth 
Burnside's voice, so clearly that she almost thought the 
professor was in the room with her: 

"You've got to be better than them. Way better. Now you use that 
head of yours..." 

With a new resolve to hold her own in this hostile place, 
Cecilia's thoughts turned back to Jason. She had come here partly 
because she wanted to see the world where he had grown up, so she 
could better understand him and why he was the way he was. When 
she met him, Jason seemed to have been adrift psychologically. 
Now Cecilia thought she understood why. Perhaps all this empty 
space, the oversized house and the depopulated neighborhood, had 
created an emptiness in Jason's soul. Perhaps it was the cold 
materialistic personalities of his family. Maybe it was the lack 
of any personal challenges while in high school, a life where he 
had nothing to worry about apart from doing well in his next 
track meet. She became even more convinced that Jason needed her 
and the life she was preparing for him. He needed a partner who 
loved him, but he also needed someone who could watch over him 
and be firm with him. He needed direction and discipline to focus 
his energies. He also needed a plan for his life, something that 
would provide a purpose for his existence.

Just 10 minutes had gone by since Cecilia had stepped into 
Jason's house, but in that 10 minutes she clearly understood his 
situation. She also knew exactly what she needed to do. Her 
purpose over the weekend was not to get Jason's family to like 
her. That wasn't going to happen, no matter what. It already was 
quite obvious there never would be any warmth between Cecilia and 
Jason's parents. Instead what she needed to do was to stand her 
ground and get them to respect her. She needed to show them she 
was a person who was sure of herself and one who knew exactly 
what she wanted from life. If they said something with which she 
disagreed, she would speak her mind. She would take no crap from 
them. 

Cecilia had one big advantage working in her favor. She suspected 
the Schmidts were concerned that she had seduced Jason because 
she wanted his money. The truth was quite the opposite. Cecilia 
was completely uninterested in her boyfriend's money. In fact, 
now that she had seen the family's material life up close, she 
viewed it as a huge hindrance, something she wanted no part of. 
This house, this neighborhood, those cars, and that tennis club 
were weights around the necks of the Schmidts. Better just to get 
rid of them and start over. Were Jason's parents to die tomorrow, 
Cecilia would have insisted that he give his portion of the 
inheritance to Cassie. Let little Miss Tennis Bitch deal with all 
this shit.

Mr. Schmidt decided to show Cecilia around the house, with Jason 
trailing behind. He was genuinely proud of the residence, but 
also hoped to intimidate his son's girlfriend by showing her what 
she truly was up against. They passed from room to room, each one 
professionally decorated. Everything was new, with the exception 
of some antiques, which had been purchased to supplement the 
décor. Cecilia only had one question.

"You didn't get anything from your parents?"

"Of course not. We got rid of most of my parents' stuff when my 
father died and we moved my mother to her condo. It didn't fit 
with the décor, so we threw it out." 

The only reaction was a slightly disgusted look on the young 
woman's face. Didn't fit with the décor, so we threw it 
out...give me a break.

Jason's father, who noticed everything, caught Cecilia's 
expression. "So, what do you think?"

"Mr. Schmidt, if this place makes you happy, I 'spose it's OK. To 
be honest, it'd be a bit much for me."

"Well, I'm sure where you're from, you're not used to seeing 
anything like what we've got here."

"I've seen some places, enough to know what I want, and what I 
don't."

Cecilia's response surprised both Jason and his father. She had 
answered the older man's put-down with a put-down of her own. In 
doing so she let Mr. Schmidt know that his effort to use the 
house to intimidate her had not worked at all. She was quite 
unimpressed, and not shy about letting Mr. Schmidt know that. It 
was the first exchange out of many that weekend, through which 
the elder Schmidts and Cecilia would probe each other, verbally 
sparring and looking for weaknesses. 

The family ate a light dinner, with three guests. Cecilia was 
present, as was Cassie's tennis friend and a young, arrogant 
blond guy with whom Cassie had a casual relationship. Cecilia 
knew that undoubtedly he would be in a fraternity in a couple of 
years and be one of those drunken slackers that Ruth Burnside so 
vividly despised. Cecilia thought she could catch a whiff of 
marijuana smoke on his clothing.

As she listened to the idiotic chatter of Cassie and her two 
friends, Cecilia became even more determined to extract Jason 
from this pathetic environment once and for all. Mrs. Schmidt 
chimed in, and then made a disparaging racist remark about the 
maids, a comment partly made to unsettle her son's girlfriend. 
Cecilia decided not to respond to that particular slight, but she 
was wound-up, like a cornered animal, ready to viciously strike 
out when the moment came.

Jason became increasingly nervous. He could see the fight 
building up in his girlfriend's eyes as she continued to listen 
to his sister's inane chatter and his mother's quiet slights.

The conversation turned to Cecilia's background. By then, some of 
her tension was seeping out. She freely discussed her time at the 
university, her duties as RA, and her constant efforts to keep 
drunken fraternity and sorority pledges under control. She took a 
thrust at Cassie and her two friends when she vented about the 
girls who did not know how to use dorm washing machines.

"I can't believe how stupid some of those little princesses are. 
They can't even use the laundry room without puttin' a bunch of 
soap bubbles on the floor. It's like their parents never taught 
them nothin'. It's really sad to see someone that helpless..."

Everyone knew the Dominican's comment was directed at the spoiled 
young teenagers sitting at the table. They were among the girls 
who had never washed their own clothing and had never learned how 
to use a laundry room. Unless someone set them straight over the 
next year, they almost certainly would be among the freshmen 
destined to have a housekeeping crisis during their first week on 
campus.

Jason cringed in silent mortification as his girlfriend and his 
parents sparred with each other at the dinner table, regretting 
with every bit of his soul having invited Cecilia for 
Thanksgiving dinner. He desperately wished he could get someone 
to shut up, but he should have known that Cecilia was not one to 
back away from a fight. Her claws were out and she was fully 
ready to defend herself.

A temporary calm returned to the table. Jason's father decided to 
find out what type of student she was by asking her to explain 
her studies. Cecilia talked about her research under Ruth 
Burnside and the impending plans for her to become a research 
assistant the following year. She talked at length about her 
economics classes and what she was learning. Mr. Schmidt was 
vaguely impressed. Whatever else was wrong with her, it was clear 
that Jason's girlfriend was intelligent and knew how to study.

The line of conversation seemed innocent enough, as Cecilia 
discussed the economics department and the program she was 
majoring in. Then the topic of Upper Danubia and its new Prime 
Minister came up. Cecilia mentioned her research and the pending 
visit, scheduled to take place right after Thanksgiving Break 
ended. Mr. Schmidt sighed and rolled eyes upon hearing the name 
Vladim Dukov.

"Oh yeah, that commie bastard. Some of my clients took a real hit 
on that one."

"Took a hit, Mr. Schmidt?"

"Yeah, Cecilia. Took a hit. A lot of people lost a bunch of money 
on that fiasco last year. I mean, you've studied it, you know 
what happened. I'll tell you, we had a real set-back with that 
screwed up election."

"Who had a setback?"

"Well, the EU, and my clients, of course. Especially Mega-Town 
Associates. They had a lot riding on the election. They had all 
kinds of development projects and investments pending, and that 
son-of-a-bitch Dukov got in there and canceled everything. I mean 
everything. And all that money the Embassy spent...and it was for 
nothing."

"Mr. Schmidt, I don't think it was that simple. From what I read, 
I think what Prime Minister Dukov wanted to do was re-negotiate 
the contracts. He gave Mega-Town Associates and the EU a chance 
to make changes and they wouldn't do it. I don't think that was 
his fault..."

"What the hell are you talking about? Of course it was his fault! 
You don't just walk up to Mega-Town and say 'screw-you' to their 
faces! No two-bit third-world leader does that to America's best 
company! And anyhow, what he wanted to do, change the rules mid-
game, you just don't do it. It wasn't fair to the investors, and 
wasn't fair to the company!"

"But was what Mega-Town wanted to do in Upper Danubia fair? Their 
subsidiary wanted to clear-cut the forests out of three provinces 
and then charge 'em for building a road. What was Upper Danubia 
gonna get out of it?"

Jason's father gave Cecilia a very hard look. "That's irrelevant, 
Cecilia. We're really not talking about Upper Danubia, because as 
far as I'm concerned, Upper Danubia doesn't matter. What matters 
are American interests. The point is American investors got 
screwed. People lost money. Don't you get it? People lost money, 
just because the wrong guy got into that country's Parliament. 
And what's worse, I don't see how we're going to get him out 
anytime soon."

"What do you mean 'get him out anytime soon'? 'Isn't that up to 
the Danubians? It's their country. Don't they get to choose who's 
gonna lead 'em? Isn't that what democracy's supposed to be all 
about?"

"Not when it interferes with clients! Not when it hurts American 
business interests!" 

Jason's father looked hard at his guest, very offended that this 
pathetic 19-year-old was questioning ideas that were core to 
everything he believed, the ideals that had given him and his 
family so much. How dare she... 

"I have a question for you. Do you have any pride in America at 
all? Don't you care about American interests? Don't you care 
about our society's commitment to free markets? Doesn't any of 
that matter to you? Just whose side are you on?"

That was the moment Cecilia snapped. Finally she had enough. She 
thought for a moment, not about what she was going to say, but 
how she was going to phrase it to make it as forceful as 
possible.

"Investors lost money. Aww... That's just so sad...investors lost 
money. Well, I think those investors got what they deserved! 
Whatever they lost, they deserved to lose it! They thought they 
were so smart, tryin' to rig that election so they could rip up 
that country, and guess what? They got their asses beat! Yeah, 
Mr. Schmidt, they lost their dirty money, and that's what they 
deserved! That's what I think! And as for Vladim Dukov, I like 
him! I like what he stands for and I wish there were more people 
like him. I admire him, and I hope he keeps on screwin' your 
clients and messin' up their plans! And if there's anything I 
could ever do, to help him screw your clients, I'd do it, 'cause 
I hate Mega-Town and want 'em put out of business! That's whose 
side I'm on!"

Cecilia's eyes were ablaze and her mouth was drawn tight. She 
looked like she was about to jump out of her seat. She was 
clearly ready for a good fight, prepared to argue all night if 
necessary to defend her position and a political figure she 
admired. Mr. Schmidt's face went white. For a few seconds he said 
nothing, then, not knowing how to respond, simply left the table. 
Jason's mother quickly followed, leaving Jason, Cecilia, and the 
three bewildered teenagers sitting alone.

----------

Jason's mother and father were both shocked by the Dominican's 
sudden combativeness, but their thoughts on how to deal with the 
matter were totally different. 

Jason's mother wanted to throw that arrogant little ghetto bitch 
out of the house immediately. That meant right at that moment, 
out the door at 9:00 at night. How she got out of the 
neighborhood and back to Chicago would be her problem, not 
theirs.

It wasn't just Cecilia's arrogance that drew out loathing in Mrs. 
Schmidt; there was something much more deep-rooted. Her own 
husband had a nasty habit of seducing the maids, which fomented a 
deep hatred from the woman towards any young attractive female 
with a Latin American background. Cecilia Sanchez, the seducer of 
her own son, seemed to be the worst of all, with her pretty face, 
trashy background, and arrogant behavior.

Subconsciously, Jason's mother had looked forward to Cecilia's 
visit, because it was to have been her chance to get back at all 
the women with whom her husband had carried out affairs. She 
planned to slowly humiliate Cecilia with slight after slight, 
drive a wedge between her and Jason, and by the end of the 
weekend break both her and the relationship. Instead what she 
ended up doing was setting off the girl's violent temper, to the 
point she actually was afraid of the Dominican and what she might 
be capable of doing. The girl was an obvious nut-case and 
probably quite dangerous.

Once he calmed his temper, Jason's father felt somewhat 
differently about the matter. At first he was speechless with 
anger that she had stood up to him, because it had been many 
years since anyone dared to openly confront him. However, as he 
thought about it more, Mr. Schmidt realized something important. 
The reason no one ever confronted him was because the people in 
his life either wanted something from him or were too afraid to 
speak their minds. Cecilia Sanchez simply had been telling him 
the truth, or at least the truth as she saw it. He realized that 
she had spoken her mind in his presence precisely because there 
was nothing from him she wanted or needed. The experience was 
unpleasant, but at the same time there was something refreshing 
about having an honest argument with a person who felt free to 
speak her mind.

Whatever Cecilia was after in her relationship with his son, it 
was obvious that it wasn't the family's money. In their 
conversation during the afternoon she had made that blatantly 
clear. At the dinner table Cecilia expressed that she did have 
very strong ambitions, but they were the ambitions of someone who 
worked hard and was determined to make her own career and rise or 
sink on her own merits. Was there anything wrong with that? 
Perhaps that was why Jason, who at times really seemed so 
helpless in life, was drawn to her. 

The Schmidts had a rather heated argument in the master bedroom 
concerning what to do about Jason and Cecilia. While Mrs. Schmidt 
demanded she be kicked out of the house immediately, her husband 
surprised her by insisting that no, he wanted Cecilia to stay, at 
least through Thanksgiving dinner.

"She's the first person I've talked to in years who's stood up to 
me. I don't like her, not any more than you do, but she's the 
most honest person I've spoken to in a very long time. Anyhow, 
there's Jason..."

"What about Jason? You really want him being with that crazy 
bitch?"

"Well...here's something for us to consider. At least that girl 
puts her cards on the table. You know what she's thinking, 
because she'll tell you. I'd rather have that then someone who's 
all-sweet to your face, but then, as soon as you drop your guard, 
stabs you in the back. To be honest, I was expecting Jason to 
bring home some sweet phony, and then we'd end up with another 
disaster on our hands, just like we did last year. At least this 
one lays it out for you and you know what's coming."

"Look. I want her out of here, because, quite frankly, I'm afraid 
of her. With that temper, who knows what she's capable of?"

"What she's capable of? She's capable of arguing. What's there to 
be afraid of about that? What would you rather have, an 
argumentative type with an accent, or a repeat of the Jones 
girl?"

"I don't want either. I would've thought the Jones girl taught 
Jason a lesson, and that he'd use common sense in choosing his 
next girlfriend. Now he's got one that's even worse."

"Common sense? With Jason? Yeah right. A Barbie doll has more 
common sense than he does. But I don't think that Sanchez girl is 
any worse than the Jones kid. At least she's a good student, and 
that seems to have worn off on Jason. Think about it. Were you 
expecting him to be doing as well in college as he's doing right 
now? I sure as hell wasn't. I mean, I was giving him a chance to 
go, just to say I tried. But really, I figured he'd flunk out by 
now and be back home. He seems to be doing fine, and that I 
wasn't expecting. I'm wondering if it's because of her."

"I don't believe this. You're actually defending that piece of 
trash. She insulted you, at your own table, and you're defending 
her."

"She didn't really insult me. She argued with me. Granted, it's a 
bunch of naïve bullshit from college, but...I can't say that she 
personally insulted me. And I'm not defending her. I just want to 
give it a bit more time to get some more information, and see 
what's really going on with Jason." 

"What's going on with Jason is that he's in over his head with 
that girl."

"Have you talked to him? I mean, anytime during the semester?"

"No, I was too busy. Besides, that's your job. You're the 
father..."

"And I was working. Trying to support you three. So don't bitch 
to me about not having any time. You sure have a hell of a lot 
more time than I do. Anyhow, she's staying until tomorrow, 
because I'm going to talk to her and see what's going on." 

"I want her out of this house now, and I'm not kidding. I want 
her out that door immediately."

"Well, what you want isn't happening, and that's final. I'm 
talking to her before she goes anywhere. If you have any further 
thoughts on the matter, I'm not interested in hearing them. You 
want your opinion to count, go get yourself a job and start 
paying some of the bills around here."

Mrs. Schmidt clenched her teeth with anger. However, there was 
nothing more for her to do about getting rid of Cecilia that 
night. In that house, Mr. Schmidt had the final word. As he 
constantly reminded everyone, it was his job and his money that 
had bought and furnished the residence, and continued to pay for 
the family's expensive lifestyle. Her daily life, her luncheons 
with her friends, and her constant escapes to the country club 
and the area's local spas all were on his credit account. She had 
not worked for nearly 20 years so she could spend more time 
relaxing and entertaining. But, in exchange for her pampered 
lifestyle, she had to put up with quite a bit. She had to put up 
with a husband who was becoming more arrogant, more bossy, and 
more egotistical with each passing year. He felt that his career 
and his position in society entitled him to many things in life, 
not the least of which was women. His constant infidelity was an 
ongoing humiliation for Mrs. Schmidt, but unfortunately the cost 
of leaving would have been too great for her to bear.

----------

When Jason's parents left the table, Cecilia remained on edge for 
a good fight. Cassie and her two friends knew that she was 
perfectly willing to take them on if they dared say anything. 
Jason, meanwhile, was so stressed that he was directing all his 
energies to not throwing up. He should have known...he should 
have known... that his parents would be rude to Cecilia and that 
she would strike back. 

After several minutes of very tense silence, Cecilia stood up and 
tapped Jason on the shoulder. He dutifully followed her to the 
guest bedroom. He had no idea what to say to her. He was horribly 
embarrassed and mortified at the disastrous first encounter 
between his girlfriend and his parents. It was Cecilia who broke 
the silence.

"I told you, Jason. I told you. I don't take shit from anyone, 
and I'm not gonna take it from your dad. Those two were diggin' 
at me all day and finally I had enough."

"I...I'm sorry...I'm really sorry..."

"About what? You didn't do anything. It's not your fault."

"I just feel...I mean to have put you though..."

"I can take care of myself. That's not a problem. You don't 
control what your dad says, and you don't control me. I don't 
want you apologizing for somethin' you don't have control over. 
Wait 'till you do something wrong, then you can apologize. But 
your dad and mom had better learn quick that I'm not takin' no 
shit from them."

Jason sat quietly, not sure what to say. Cecilia continued.

"What happened tonight's between me and your dad. It doesn't have 
anything to do with you, so I don't want you getting involved. I 
don't want you fightin' with your dad over me, but I don't want 
you takin' his shit either. I think that's your problem around 
here...your dad's got the money, so everyone's takin' his shit."

With that Cecilia changed the subject.

"Did you bring your textbooks with you?"

"I brought a couple of books, but I'm kinda...not in the mood for 
that right now."

"Jason, you gotta get in the mood. You just can't blow off your 
studies 'cause of your personal shit. They don't grade you on 
your personal shit. So get some work done tonight, before you go 
to bed."

"What about you?"

"I got work to do. A lot of it. I was wondering...if you got a 
place for me to plug in my laptop."

"The guest room has a connection behind the lamp-stand. I'm sure 
you can use that."

"OK, then I guess...it'll be goodnight. I'm checkin' your work 
tomorrow, so I want you doin' something before you go to bed."

She kissed him goodnight and with that the tumultuous day ended.

----------

Mr. Schmidt stayed up late, watching football preview shows, as 
he normally did in the hours leading up to the games prior to 
Thanksgiving. He may have been a successful corporate lobbyist, 
but his fantasy always had been to play professional ball. He had 
played as a linebacker in high school and college in a sport 
suited for a large aggressive teenager used to having his way 
around people his own age. 

As a teenager and college player, Mr. Schmidt was fascinated by 
the thought that, through doing something he loved doing anyway, 
he could make a massive amount of money and have it all. In 
college he had seen it, been close enough to the NFL to see what 
having it all really was. Yeah, those pros had what he wanted, 
the big house, the fancy women, the nice cars, the trips... and 
the money to do whatever they wanted. Mr. Schmidt desperately 
hoped to be a part of that world. The only detail that set him 
apart from some of the others aspiring to the NFL was his 
realization that wealth from playing can disappear as quickly as 
it appears. He had seen that as well, pro players who went 
through their money within a few years of retiring, or even had 
gone through it by the time their careers were winding down. 
Linebackers especially, seemed to not do too well with their 
finances. To Mr. Schmidt having it all meant keeping it all, so 
he studied business while playing. He realized the business world 
was to his liking, the ideals of competing and winning every bit 
as important as they are in the NFL. 

In his junior year of college Mr. Schmidt had a horrible shock to 
his dreams. His coach leveled with him by telling him that he 
would not be quite large enough to be picked as linebacker in the 
NFL draft. He had to fall back on getting an MBA, and vented his 
frustration by doing well in his studies. His personality was 
suited for business school, so when one dream in life turned out 
not to be realistic, he had another one to fall back on. Yes, he 
still could have it all, but he would have to get it through the 
corporate world instead of the world of pro-sports.

The ideal of competition and being the winner never was far from 
Mr. Schmidt's mind, which was why he was so aggressive in his 
work and why he always "went with the winning team". In his case 
"the winning team" meant supporting the manipulations of Mega-
Town Associates. Whenever he went to work, he imagined himself as 
part of a row of linebackers running down and trampling the 
opposing team for that much-coveted touchdown. 

"Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing."

Jason had been a huge disappointment to his father. The fact that 
he didn't play football was bad enough, but what really got to 
Mr. Schmidt was his son's passive personality. He didn't have 
that killer instinct, that drive to be on top, no matter what. 
Yes, he ran long-distance in high school and won an occasional 
race, but running isn't a man's sport like football. He just 
didn't have it.

Finally, at about 11:00 in the evening, Mr. Schmidt got tired of 
watching the same monotonous chatter about players and their 
statistics. He went to the basement to workout a bit to relieve 
his stress. Finally he decided to return to the Master bedroom, 
where his embittered wife was sleeping. He looked at her tennis 
player's figure, curled up under a blanket. Another 
disappointment. 

He studied the back of her head, briefly fantasizing about 
putting a bullet into it. Yes, it would be so quick and easy...a 
single shot and that bitch's brains would splatter out onto the 
pillow. Then there would be no more nagging, no more constant 
digs about his mistresses, no more useless middle-aged female 
friends floating around the house chattering about tennis. Just a 
single shot...

Of course, shooting his wife was out of the question. A woman 
gets killed, and the very first thing the cops do is blame the 
husband. Perhaps that says a lot about marriage. No, everything 
would go normally, everything as planned. Tomorrow this house 
would be full of useless people, his mother would come over, 
there'd be the usual hypocritical prayers, and the usual catered 
dinner...and they'd all live happily ever after.

Mr. Schmidt thought bitterly about the uselessness of his family. 
Jason was a wimp, and the two women, his wife and his daughter, 
were helpless country club ornaments. Worthless. His mistresses 
were no better...gold diggers...all of them. Dangle a piece of 
jewelry in front of them, and oh yes...they spread for you right 
away. They were all the same, white women, black women, 
Asians...show them the jewelry and they spread. Mr. Schmidt had 
been with so many women; he couldn't even remember them all. In 
the end they all looked alike, because they all wanted the same 
thing from him and were willing to do the same thing to get it. 

Over the years the man's soul had stewed in his extreme cynicism. 
Perhaps he had gotten to the top, or at least pretty close to the 
top, but in the end, what difference did it make? Mr. Schmidt was 
surrounded by people he couldn't trust: helpless weak individuals 
who doted on him because he was the one with the money. The only 
other people in his life were peers and rivals, men with similar 
personalities and similar tastes. They socialized, but none could 
trust any of the others. They kept each other at arm's length, to 
prevent any weaknesses from showing.

Disgusted at the sight of his sleeping wife, Mr. Schmidt went 
back out into the hallway. He walked by the guestroom and noticed 
the light still on. Through a glass panel in the door he glanced 
at that nasty little Dominican, Jason's latest fiasco in life. 
She was wearing a pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt, with her 
bare legs flattened out slightly on the desk chair. Her hair was 
pulled back and she was hunched over her laptop. There were 
several sets of stapled papers spread around her, along with a 
couple of books. It was obvious she was intensely at work, 
probably with some school project.

Cecilia looked up briefly, not at the door, but off in the 
distance, thinking of how to phrase something. Even though she 
was alone, she still had that fierce look in her eyes that he 
remembered from the dinner table. Yeah that's right, you trashy 
little bitch, try to think about how to write a sentence without 
"gonna" in it. He shook his head as he stood in the darkness 
watching her. A real hellcat, this one was. Jason's latest 
disaster...

But as he thought about Cecilia, his words from earlier in the 
evening came back to him. "She's the first person I've talked to 
in years who's stood up to me...She's the most honest person I've 
spoken to in a very long time...At least that girl puts her cards 
on the table. You know what she's thinking, because she'll tell 
you."

Mr. Schmidt thought about the girl's blunt behavior. She had not 
gone out of her way to try to impress him, apart from her 
misdirected effort to be well dressed. He remembered his earlier 
observation that she had been honest with him because there was 
nothing from him she wanted or needed. That was refreshing, the 
idea of conversing with someone who didn't want anything from 
him. It was obvious the girl had character and guts, that she was 
firm in what she believed, and ready to defend herself. She was 
brave, recklessly so. She stood out in a life that was full 
cringing yes-men.

His resolve to talk to her the next day came back to him, a 
desire to find out why she was with Jason and what that might 
mean for his future. He would talk straight with her, and expect 
her to talk straight with him. He would try not to pre-judge her. 
He didn't like her, but there was something...something that made 
him not dismiss her as quickly as he dismissed most women. 

----------

Mr. Schmidt made the arrangements the following day to have 
Cecilia to himself. She helped his plans by getting up very early 
to continue with her work, typing out answers to the final 
questions from the list that Burnside had given her about Upper 
Danubia and the problems facing Vladim Dukov. Dressed in a warm 
sweatsuit, Mr. Schmidt approached the guest bedroom. Normally he 
would have just walked into the room, but this time, some slight 
hesitation in his mood forced him to knock.

Cecilia immediately stood up, her eyes full of both apprehension 
and combativeness. Obviously she was concerned about a 
continuation of the confrontation from the night before, but she 
felt trapped by her promise to herself "to take no shit" from 
either of Jason's parents. Mr. Schmidt's first words calmed her 
down slightly.

"Cecilia, you can put away your guns. I'd like to talk to you, 
but let's try to be a bit civilized about it. We'll keep Upper 
Danubia out of the conversation because right now I'm not 
interested in that topic."

"So, what do you wanna talk about, Mr. Schmidt?"

"Jason. I want to know what the score is on that. I'm his father, 
and I think I have a right to know what's going on between you 
two."

"We're goin' out, Mr. Schmidt. That's what we're doing."

"Yeah...you're going out with him. I think I had that part 
figured out. What I'd like to know is why."

Cecilia thought for a moment, and then answered as honestly as 
she could. "I think we're goin' out because, right now, we need 
each other. I feel...I gotta be with him, and I 'spose he feels 
the same way about me. I like bein' with him. I...I don't really 
know what else to say. I like bein' with him."

"OK. Fair enough, you like being with him. So, where do you think 
you're going with it? What's your next step?"

"My next step is I gotta get my degree, my BA. And Jason's gotta 
get his. We won't be doing anybody any good if we don't get our 
degrees. Then we can figure out what we're gonna do next. 
Graduate school, I suppose. Just a BA isn't much good anymore, 
'cause too many people got 'em."

"I suppose you're right. You won't get too far on a BA these 
days. So you think you're headed straight to graduate school?"

"Yes, Mr. Schmidt, as long as I keep up my grades and keep my 
scholarship, I'm gonna study. Dr. Burnside told me to start 
thinkin' about what I might wanna look at for my Master's Thesis, 
so I can think about how I'm gonna specialize. But then, I think 
I gotta do a Ph.D. too."

"A Ph.D.? You're already thinking about that?"

"I gotta think about that now. I gotta figure out how I'm gonna 
specialize and what I'm interested in. Dr. Burnside keeps pushin' 
me to think about my future and what I wanna do, so yeah, I'm 
thinkin' about it now."

"So, where does Jason fit into all this?"

"He's gotta think about his future too. I guess I'm helpin' him 
with that, 'cause, you know, I'm pushin' him to do good in his 
classes. To me that's important."

"You're pushing him?"

"Yes, I'm pushin' him. I want him to do good so I keep pushin' 
him."

Mr. Schmidt thought to himself: OK, there's the answer to my 
question, why Jason's doing so well in school. No, it wasn't 
because he had any drive of his own. It was because of her.

"So, just how is it that you're pushing him?"

"Well, his biggest problem was Dr. Burnside's freshman economics 
class. It's a tough class and only about half the people in it 
pass each semester. Most of 'em flunk 'cause they fall behind. 
I've been makin' sure Jason doesn't fall behind. Every couple of 
nights I go into his room and look at his work. I make him talk 
to me about the class, to make sure he's got everything. Then he 
helps his friends, and I think that's helpin' him too, you know, 
havin' to explain it to someone else. And you know...he's done 
good so far. He's not dumb, and I think he thought he was before 
I started workin' with him."

"You actually think he's smart?"

"He's OK. He's smart enough. He's just gotta get motivated, and 
he'll do good."

"Motivated. So, just how did you motivate him?"

Cecilia paused, then decided to tell a portion of the truth.

"Jason, you know, he started out with all these dumb ideas about 
college back in August. He was gonna party, and run around, and 
have fun. And I told him, college isn't like that. You gotta 
work. Then the first week I saw that he and his friends were all 
scared about the Burnside class and wanted to drop it. So I told 
him, 'you can't drop that class 'cause you need it for a bunch of 
other requirements.' So he says to me 'oh I'll just take it 
later', and I say 'if you take it now, I'll help you. If you take 
it later, you're not gonna pass 'cause you're not gonna have any 
help.' So he stayed in, and his friends stayed in. And they're 
all gonna pass 'cause they did good on their term papers. I saw 
their grades, and they'll get their papers back next week."

Jason's father paused for a few seconds, as another question came 
into his mind.

"OK, so now I'm curious. Why? Why'd you spend so much time 
worried about Jason if you got all your other responsibilities?"

"Because he needed my help. I care about him and I wanna see him 
do well. And also, 'cause then he was able to help some the 
others. Not just his friends, but a couple of other students on 
the floor also. He likes helpin' people. He's not selfish, not at 
all, and I think helpin' the others made him feel really good 
about himself."

By now the other members of the household were up. Jason's mother 
walked by the door and shot a look of pure hatred at Cecilia 
through the glass panels. Jason came by and peeked through with a 
worried expression. Mr. Schmidt chased both of them away with a 
very hostile stare. 

This conversation absolutely has to continue, he thought to 
himself. I've got this girl to open up to me, and if I keep her 
talking maybe I can finally figure out what's going on with 
Jason.

"Cecilia, I want to step out with you for a little bit, if you 
don't mind. Maybe give both of us a chance to stretch our legs."

A few minutes later Cecilia was changed and the strange couple 
went out the front door into the very spread-out neighborhood for 
a walk along the cold, deserted sidewalks. Mr. Schmidt, recalling 
Cecilia's reaction to the area from the day before, posed a 
question.

"I'm sort of curious. You don't much care for our neighborhood, 
do you?"

"No, Mr. Schmidt. I don't much care for it."

"Why?"

"It's too empty. It's like...there's nothin' here. This 
place...it just...it kinda scares me, if you want the truth."

"It's one of the most exclusive neighborhoods north of Chicago. 
And you find it scary?"

"Yes, Mr. Schmidt. There's somethin' about it...that just doesn't 
feel right to me. I guess everything's just too big. That's my 
opinion, since you asked me for it."

"So what is your ideal neighborhood, since it isn't this one?"

Cecilia described Burnside's neighborhood, an ordinary 
development of ranch-style houses built in the 1960's. The 
houses, in spite of not being very spread out, were quite 
private. Most of the back yards had fences and the houses 
themselves crouched quietly behind trees and hedges. The modesty 
of the houses contrasted with the showiness of the houses in the 
Schmidts' neighborhood, where structures sat out in the open and 
stuck high into the air, those vaulted ceilings pushing rooftops 
ever higher.

"I like Dr. Burnside's neighborhood 'cause it's so quiet. I don't 
like a lot of noise, 'cause there was too much of it when I was 
growin' up. But there's stuff there, in that neighborhood: trees, 
animals, kids, people runnin' about...and that's what I'm lookin' 
for: a place to live, to be comfortable, a place to raise my kids 
and not have anyone mess with us. Maybe it's not all that much, 
but it's what I want."

"At age 19 you think you have everything figured out then, 
career, neighborhood...?"

"I don't have that much figured out, Mr. Schmidt. Right now I'm 
just figurin' out what I don't want out of life. Later on I'm 
gonna figure out what I do want."

Mr. Schmidt thought about himself at age 19, when he was playing 
college football and was convinced the NFL was to be his 
immediate future. Like Cecilia, he had big ambitions, but not in 
the same way she did. The order in which they wanted things out 
of life differed between them. He knew what he wanted, the NFL 
lifestyle. It had never occurred to Mr. Schmidt to try to figure 
out what he didn't want out of life until he already was very 
successful. Among the things he now realized was the reality that 
he probably shouldn't have married, because marriage placed some 
restrictions on his personal activities that he hadn't expected. 

Other troubling thoughts were forcing their way into his 
consciousness. Deep down he was beginning, just beginning, to 
question whether or not he really had managed to buy happiness 
with his over-sized house. He bought it partly because he wanted 
to get his wife to shut up and push her off into the country club 
scene. Now she was about as useless as a person could be, never 
doing anything she could get a maid to take care of, and 
definitely not any happier. If anything she was more unpleasant 
than ever. As for all the fancy stuff they bought, the truth was 
that if it burned up the next day he really wouldn't care, as 
long as the insurance company paid for it. There was not a single 
item in the house to which he had any emotional attachment. 
Finally Mr. Schmidt responded, and in doing so subconsciously 
exposed his doubts about his own choices in life.

"Well, maybe you got things in the right order: eliminate what 
you don't want first, and then you can concentrate on what you do 
want. Sounds reasonable."

There was another long pause, as the pair watched a maid walk a 
couple of pure-breed dogs across a frost-covered park. One of the 
dogs dumped. The maid looked around, and upon noticing Mr. 
Schmidt and his companion, sighed and picked up the dump with a 
paper towel and put it in a paper bag. It was obvious she was 
quite disgusted having to handle dog poop, and only did so 
because there were people watching. Cecilia felt very uneasy as 
the thought of being so close to "cleanin' other people's shit" 
once again surfaced in her mind. Mr. Schmidt continued.

"Alright, so I'm still curious. What is it that you see in Jason? 
I mean, you've got a very strong character and it's obvious 
you've been through some stuff in your life. So what is it that 
makes you want to share your time with him?"

Cecilia thought about it, trying to figure out how to tell enough 
of the truth without telling the entire truth. She knew that she 
had to protect Jason, and thus talk more about herself than him. 
Finally she offered a partial confession about her own life.

"I care a great deal for Jason 'cause he doesn't give me shit. 
He's always very nice to me because he loves me, and he doesn't 
try to boss me around, and he doesn't try to change the way I am. 
That's very important to me. I gotta be with someone who's not 
gonna try to boss me around, and he doesn't."

"Why's that so important?"

"I...'cause...when I was growin' up, all of 'em were tryin' to 
tell me what to do. I took a lot of shit when I was in school, 
just 'cause I wanted to get my degree and go to college. And they 
all made fun of me, 'cause I wanted to get good grades, I didn't 
cause trouble, and the teachers liked me. And now I think I know 
why, why they were all makin' fun of me. They were jealous, the 
girls, especially. They knew I wasn't gonna be like 'em...I 
wasn't gonna be havin' kids and gettin' my ass kicked by my 
boyfriend every night. They knew I was gonna get away, and that 
scared 'em. So they gave me shit 'cause it made 'em jealous. And 
my brother gave me shit 'cause I wouldn't hang out with his 
friends. And the guys at school gave me shit, 'cause I wouldn't 
sleep with 'em. And my mom gave me shit 'cause I was at the 
library instead of helpin' her. So I left, and I'm not going 
back, 'cause I'm not taking any more shit."

"Yeah, I guess I see your point. I guess I would've been pissed 
too, had things for me been like they were for you, growing up. 
But are you so sure that someone like Jason is what you need? I 
still can't see how...with your background, you'd see anything in 
someone like my son."

"Why? What's wrong with Jason?"

"If you want the truth, he doesn't have any character. Let's face 
it, that kid's a wimp. I honestly don't see how you can have any 
respect for him."

Cecilia paused, deeply offended that Jason's own father would say 
something like that. It was obvious that he held his son in 
complete contempt. Now she understood...if Jason's own father had 
such a low opinion of him, no wonder he was so disoriented when 
she first met him. There was plenty of anger in her voice when 
she made her next comment.

"Jason has plenty of character, Mr. Schmidt. He's the best guy 
I've ever been with. If you can't see that, then the only thing I 
can say is, I feel real sorry for you."

The fight had returned to Cecilia Sanchez. Clearly she was ready 
to defend him and her anger appeared genuine. The conversation 
took a sudden sinister turn when Jason's father responded.

"Well, I think there's some stuff about him that you still don't 
know. I stand by my comment that he doesn't have any character. I 
stand by that, and if you don't believe me, then you talk to him. 
Ask him about Heather Jones."

"Who's Heather Jones?"

"You're an inquisitive person. Ask him and find out."

It was clear to Cecilia that Mr. Schmidt had decided to stop the 
conversation at that point. Before he spoke with her again, he 
wanted her to find out about Heather Jones, whoever the hell she 
was...

They walked in silence back to the house.

