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 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 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 d�cor. 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 d�cor, so we threw it out."

The only reaction was a slightly disgusted look on the young woman's face. Didn't fit with the d�cor, 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 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.

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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 very 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 na�ve 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.

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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.

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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 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 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 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.

The Freshman - Chapter 18