Not Even Her Mother Knew Her Name

I had a very long and boring day as President of the Italian Culture Club. I only took the position so that I could have a key to my own private room in Brooklyn College. The room housed two Italian related clubs. The Italian Culture Club and The Italian Student Union. My private room was now becoming filled with actual club members, which was my cue to leave. I needed some time to myself to reflect on the paper I was about to write. This day in September was not about to be my lucky day. When you meet someone out of the blue and they start a five hour conversation with you, a red flag should automatically go up. My red flag went off but I tried to ignore it. I wish after a half hour I got up and left. "I feel my life is over and I'm only thirty one, but maybe things will look up for me someday. I got laid off my job, my boyfriend wants to break up with me, the doctors removed a ten pound cyst from my ovary and I'm flat broke with my rent due." The stranger openly confessed to me in the first half hour of our chat. How do you walk away from someone in that bad of shape? Can a ovary have a ten pound cyst?

What an odd bunch of events to openly confess to a stranger. As day fell into night I started to feel sorry for her. The strange bug eyes she had contained an empty stare. Her body movements painted the portrait of a person who was not of sound mind. She seemed uncomfortable and nervous yet she never stopped talking in her rapid pace. Somethings she said didn't make any sense, while other words she spoke made her seem like a girl that desperately needed someone to talk to. I didn't know what to do because I felt maybe I could help her before she did something crazy. "I'm normally quiet but for some reason today I feel I can tell you anything, Anthony Benedetto". Every ten minutes she would thank me for listening to her.

The date from Hell took place three days later. I realized that something was missing from the puzzle that was the girl whose name was so forgettable. The date was simple enough, dinner and a movie in the Italian clubhouse. I brought Boardinghouse to watch. The funny thing is the film is an incoherent mess much like my evening. The film focuses on a haunted house that is being rented out by sexy women. It was one of the first films shot on video and is certainly ambitious. The big question is whether or not the film is bad on purpose. That is the fun of watching the film, a chance to figure it out for yourself. The director has claimed that it was on purpose but I find that hard to believe.



My chemistry with her was almost nonexistent. Even though we were on the third floor of the college, she kept referring to it as the basement. I just couldn't wait for this night of lies to end. Then I tell her goodbye and that I will call her and of course I wouldn't. Around 9:30 the President of the other club showed up and he was in his late forties. He entered the dark room and was shocked to find two people on the couch watching a slasher flick that looked like a porno. It had the quality of a porno minus the nude scenes.

"I'll be out of you kids' way in about ten minutes!" I was so embarrassed to be caught with this girl. He took his usual seat and proceeded to talk and shortly these words were uttered from his mouth, "So after my nervous breakdown..." Did I just hear right? "My wife was two timing me, then she told me after my nervous breakdown no less that I had to sleep in the garage. That's when I stopped living for others and started living for Sal. I got a divorce from my wife and started dating women who accepted me for me. I mean I broke up with a woman because she told me to use conditioner in my hair. I told her I hate conditioner it feels like someone came in my hand and I told her goodbye."

There was no end in sight for this night. I never knew this stuff about Salvatore, and the girl with no name was engrossed in every word coming out of his saliva filled mouth. "Now you guys know Salvatore and Salvatore knows alot of people. I can help you look for apartments, jobs and that kind of shit".

"Its almost 1 in the morning. I have work in the morning". I told Salvatore as he searched the Internet for photos of his daughter. That hint went right over his head. I should have gotten up and left but it was like watching a train wreck, (or Boardinghouse).

A half hour later the freak show ended, but I will never forget the girl's last words as I walked her to the train station. "Thank you Anthony for a wonderful weekend". Then I had to remind her that it was only Thursday.