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Bible in a Trashcan

Daniel Flaherty

    He was nineteen and walking through the dormitory with a duffel bag full of bottles that clinked together. Jay knew that he was finished if he got caught with the alcohol he was carrying. He attended school on a campus where alcohol was prohibited, and violators were disciplined; unless you were under aged, then they kicked you out. Which was just fine with Jay. He always said that booze without laws prohibiting its use was like playing Pac-Man without ghosts.
    Jay had to get through the commons area to reach the stairs, and it figured that there would be two resident hall assistants hanging out. He thought that maybe he could get past without them seeing him.
    “Hey, Jay...what’s up?”
    Jay turned his head but kept walking.
    “Hi guys.”
    “Carrying a lot of stuff there.”
    “Books. Gotta study.”
    “Studying on a Saturday. Shouldn’t push yourself so hard, Jay. Take it easy.”
    “Yeah, well, test on Monday.”
    The desire was to run up the stairs two or three at a time, to get out of the sites of the RAs and into the safety of the dorm room. But it took skill and discipline, this act of sneaking alcohol into the dorms. If you panicked and ran, then they would know something was up and might want to see exactly what you had in that bag. So Jay played it cool and casually strolled up the stairs.
     He went down the hall and stopped before his dorm room. Behind the door was pounding music and the raunchy tones of intoxicated and carefree youth. Jay knocked loud enough to be heard and everyone inside shut up, wondering if one of the residence assistants were investigating the noise.
    “Hey, it’s me,” Jay yelled.
    The voices started again, excited. The lock was pulled back and the door swung open.
    “My man! What’s up!” Randy stood there with a can in his hand, and stepped aside.
    Jay walked into the blacklight lit room and the smells of beer and Axel body spray. Everybody’s voice went up a crescendo as they greeted Jay. Two people moved aside to give him space on a bed, and he plopped down beside them and set the bag on the floor.
    “Hey, who’s thirsty?”
    Everyone cheered and Jay pulled back the zipper. He reached in and pulled out bottles of hard alcohol: rum, vodka and schnapps that tasted like watermelon and sour apple.
    “Beer is dandy, but liquor is quicker,” he said. Nobody got the reference, but they responded to it favorably anyway.
    As everybody swarmed around the alcohol, Jay reached into his pocket and pulled out the driver’s license that said he was 21, and kissed it.
    “My best friend.”
    On the stand beside his bed, Jay had a small statue of a naked woman kneeling on one leg and holding a tray. That tray was probably intended to hold spare change, but Jay always displayed his fake driver’s license on it like a religious fetish.
    “Dude, what did you get on your project?” Randy asked, kneeling before Jay.
    Jay had pulled out his personal drinking glass, one that weighed over a pound and cost him $35.
    “I got me a C.”
    “That’s not too bad. Did you do that rebooting setup you were talking about?”
    “Naw, man. I stalled on it, and by the time I was ready, there wasn’t enough time to do it and hand it in, so I wrote a paper on flash drives instead.”
    “Oh, man, that sucks. You should have done that rebooting setup thing. A physical piece of software would have scored you more points than a written report. People taking that class just for the credits: they write reports. You need tangibility, dude.”
    “Next time. I’ll do it for my final.”
    Jay opened the mini-fridge and pulled out ice cubes and a carton of half-and-half. He began fixing himself a white russian.
    “Hey,” the girl next to Jay asked. “What were you guys just talking about?”
    “This computer engineering class I’m taking. I was going to create this program for a class project. I’m majoring in computer engineering, so when I graduate I’ll be making lots of money.”
    “It’s pretty expensive to take computer engineering classes, isn’t it?”
    “When I graduate, I’ll be $150,000 in debt.”
    “Oh my god!”
    “But you know what? When I get a job—which will be soon because computer engineers are in demand and there aren’t a whole lot of ‘em—I’ll get it all paid off in three months.”
    “Really?”
    “Really. And—” Jay held his hand holding the glass out with index finger extended so he could poke her in the arm. “And you know what my minor is?”
    “Uh-uh. What?”
    “Cantonese.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Cantonese is the Chinese dialect spoken in Hong Kong. When I graduate, I’m gonna get a job in Hong Kong. And know what I’m gonna do there?”
    “No. What are you going to do there?”
    “I’m gonna find a Chinese girl, and I’m gonna marry her.”
    “You want to marry a Chinese girl?”
    “Yes ma’am.”
    “Why?”
    “Cuz Asian women are hot.”
    “So why not a Japanese girl? Don’t you think Japan is cooler than China?”
    “Ehh—” Jay titled his hand up and down. “Sort of. But Chinese women are hotter.”
    “They look the same to me.”
    “Chinese women have straighter and darker hair. And their eyes are slanted longer.”
    The girl laughed.
    “So you’re gonna be a computer engineer and live in Hong Kong with your Chinese wife?”
    “That’s right,” Jay said. He leaned his back against the wall and dreamed.

*    *    *


    Jay entered his room feeling depressed. He had just come back from his computer engineering class where everybody had to hand in their final projects. Jay had been positive that by this time he would have done that rebooting software that he talked about all year, but again time got the best of him and he ended up doing another paper. And this paper had been written at the last minute. Reading it over before class started, Jay noticed some typos that were going to cost him.
    And tomorrow’s my Cantonese language final, he thought. Gotta start studying for that.
    Jay picked up his Cantonese textbook and sat down with it. He looked over some of the important grammar reviews but then his mind wandered. He flipped through the pages until he found that picture he liked, the one of the Chinese woman with the braids and wearing the parka.
    Man, that’s hot, Jay thought. Someday I’m gonna have a girl like that.
    The telephone rang, snapping him from his daydream. He dropped the book and picked up the phone.
    “Hello?” he said.
    “Hey, Jay, dude! What’s up, motherfucker?”
    “Steve, what’s going on?”
    “Dude, party of Clifford’s.”
    “When?”
    “Right now, dude!”
    “I’m there.”
    Jay hung up and went to the bathroom to get ready. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and grinned.
    “Looking good, my man,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. He could do that project next year. And maybe come up with a second one to do during the summer. “The future is yours.”
    Jay reached down to grab the bottle of Axel spray and froze. There were liver spots all over the back of his hand, and the skin was wrinkled. Jay looked back in the mirror and saw the loose skin and spots there as well. And the bags under his eyes and receding hair that had turned white.
    “Oh, that’s right. I’m 60.”
    Jay turned around and there was nothing.



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