A Week In The Life of Bob Roth

PROLOGUE
 
WHEN I set out to interview Bob, I began by asking around the school what people thought about him.  The answers ranged from the good (“a hard worker”, “diligent”), the bad (“too preppy”, “a true jock”), to the downright ugly (“an arrogant, conceited, wealthy, WASPy snob).  The truth?  Bob is all the above, even the last one to a certain extent.

Armed with questions in hand, I spent seven days from Sunday to Sunday with him.  I slept in the guest room of his home (Betsy and his parents were my chaperones), went with him to all his classes (thank you to my teachers), hung out with him, and went out on dates with him (not recommended if you are going to be the third wheel).

So here is the story of seven days in the life of what I think is the hardest working person I ever saw in my life.  Or maybe he’s just a typical type A personality?  You decide.

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DAY ONE - SUNDAY

THIS day began with my parents dropping me off at First Orlean Presbyterian Church.  Church was letting out and I walked over to Mr. and Mrs. Roth, introduced my parents, and we put my luggage in the trunk of Mr. Roth’s car.  Then I went to hunt down Bob. 

I caught him just getting in a truck with Mike Belco.  I waved and he seemed surprised to see me.  I reminded him of why I was there and a light went off.  He had forgotten.  Mike thought this quite funny.

“Well, we’re goin’ fishin‘.  Wan’ to come ‘long?” drawled he.

I agreed and got in the truck in the back seat of the cab.  Bob didn’t say anything but I caught a hint of a smile from Mike.  He spoke again.

“Ya’ll goin’ to look funny gettin’ to the crick.”

After deciphering Mike (which I would be doing all week), I looked down at my dress, hose, and heels.  What a way to start.  We headed out of the parking lot and down to the crick--I mean, creek.  Actually, we had to park on the road and walk to the creek.  This caused a lot of comic relief as I tried to make my way through the brambles, stickies, and dirt path.  We finally got there and the fishing commenced.  I was bored, if you want to know the truth.  But this was to be the only time in the seven that was to happen.  I got bit by mosquitoes and got a dragonfly in my hair.  Several very smart remarks were said. 

After a long while, we all got up and started to leave.  Mike caught a few big catfish. Bob had caught a few small crappies, which he tossed.  He told Mike that they really needed to take the boat out.  Mike agreed.

On the walk back to the truck, I got caught in a bramble.  Now I am not a complainer but I felt like crying.  Bob threw Mike a glance.  Mike took the fishing pole and pail Bob was holding.  The Bob came back, picked me up and carried me back to the truck.  Ground rules are sort of hard to follow in that situation, but I did.  Mike kept grinning, even after we got into the truck.

“Ah don’ see this happenin‘,” he remarked to Bob.

Bob shrugged and asked where to eat.  Eat?  Then I noticed that it was 5:30.  McDonald’s was decided upon and we drove there.

Mark Mantle was there and it turned out that he was some sort of assistant manager.  Also working that night was Ronnie Levin, Linda Belco, Aimee Parks, and Bart Branch.  Mark told me that his father owned most of the McDonald’s in the county.  McMann Company was the parent.  So Mark got a job and got all his friends jobs.

Anyway, we sat and started to eat when Mark came over to razz Bob about me.  Bob was doing a good job of ignoring everyone when Donny Captone walked through the door, locked to the lips of Diana Weaver.  They walked up to the counter and got their order.  Then  he saw us,  and sat down.

“So, how’s it going?” he asked.

“Fine,” was Bob’s answer.

“You can’t do it.”

“What?”

“Hang around Kim for a week without making a play,” he said, between bites of hamburger.  “Can’t do it.”

Bob got upset.

“I can.  And I will,” he declared.  “No, you won’t.  And to prove it I’ll make a bet with you.  If after this week you can prove that you made no pass or play for this luscious female, I will talk to my uncle about getting you those passes to Heart you want so badly.”

This wager caused general conversation.  Even Linda came out from the drive-thru.  But the bet was made.  From here on in, Donny had just made sure all ground rules were to be followed to the letter.

After eating, we left.  Mike dropped Bob and I off and sped away. We entered the house.

First let me say that the Roth’s live in a big house on a big yard.  Well, actually the front is not so huge, the back is.  They also live on the lake.

We entered and made some conversation with his parents.  His mom remarked that we smelled of fish.  Then Bob excused himself to take a shower and Betsy gave me the grand tour.  It was a nice house.  I have to tell you that I live in a single wide trailer.  My whole home could fit into the living room.  I could get used to this.  I ooh’d and aah’d over the swimming pool and tennis court.

Soon Bob came downstairs dressed in a black terry robe and black slippers.  Then I went to take my shower.

After my shower, Betsy challenged everyone to a game of Monopoly and so we played that until it was time for us  to do our homework and go to bed.  Mr. Roth, a totally ruthless player, won.

I actually learned quite a bit about the Roth’s that day.  It was an interesting story.

Mr. Roth comes from very old Boston Brahmin stock and even older money.  He went to prep school at Groton and then to Harvard.  After graduation, he was recruited by Henry Dange himself, then just a classmate and has been with DM every since. 

Mrs. Roth was a different story, a sort of Cinderella.  She was born in a small town in North Carolina to a blue class family.  Her dad drove a truck, her mother worked in a mill.  Mrs. Roth graduated near the top of her class and got a scholarship to Duke University.  She graduated in the top 10% of her class with a degree in medicine and then went to Radcliffe for her doctorate.  At Radcliffe, she met Mr. Roth who was studying for his Advanced degree at Harvard.  They fell in love and married after Mr. Roth got his job with DM.  Mrs. Roth was accepted into the family right away, for her father in law felt she was like Jackie O, she had class.

Anyway, they moved to the  Charleston SC field office first and that was where Betsy and Bob were born.  Betsy was born 45 minutes before Bob, so she likes to say she’s older.

When they were about 3, Mr. Roth got a promotion and a transfer to the Buffalo office.  He dealt with the international section of the company, going overseas a lot and dealing a lot with the Canadian’s.  After some discussion about public verses private schooling, the kids started school in Grand Island, a public school which was the idea of Mrs. Roth, a product of them.

Mr. Roth got another promotion into his present position when they were 12.  That’s when they moved to Florida.

The moral?  Study hard and some day you too can live an upper class life.  I told Mrs. Roth I would never of believed her background.

“You are what you make of yourself.  If you say you want to work in a mill, you will.  If you say you want to be a veterinarian, you will.  It’s what you believe in yourself that counts.”

“That’s why we have such over achieving children,” Mr. Roth put in.  I loved to hear him speak with that Boston twang.  It sounded like Charles on M*A*S*H (This story, by the way, was told during the game).

Bob and I went upstairs to his room after the game, which lasted about two hours the way his dad played.  This is not as bad as it sounds.  Remember the bet.  Once up there he helped me unpack then we went into his room (with the door left open).

“You want to see what I do.  This is a typical nighttime routine.”

With that, he went over and sat on the bed with a pen and pad and listened to his messages--all 27 of them.  While he was doing that, I took notes of his bedroom.  Like his locker, his bedroom needs a chapter by itself.

First, it’s huge.  Starting clockwise from the doorway, is a long dresser with a mirror and various awards and trophies.  Then came a large armoire.  On the next wall, was part one of a walk-in closet.  It was big enough to sleep in.  Through the one closet was a door to another closet.  These closets took up all of the wall.  And they were full.  I have never seen so many clothes and shoes outside of a department store.  And everything was categorized and organized.  Some of the items even had the tags still attached.  I will not say how much the clothing Bob wears  upon his person costs, but lets say he is not cheap.  There were rows and rows of ties, shirts, suits, pants, sweaters, jackets, etc.  And loafers and sneakers, and tennis shoes…I swear I spent a good thirty minutes just exploring his closet!

On the next wall around was a wide and tall window.  In the window was a telescope.  Next to the telescope was an easel and some chalk.  A smock was hung on the easel which stood on a piece of plastic.  Then came a nightstand with a clock and some folders in a stand.  Then came the bed, queen-sized with drawers underneath.  Then came another nightstand, this one with the answering machine and phone  (which he was still talking on).  Then came another window and the beginnings of the desk.  This wrapped around to the last wall.  An Apple computer with a printer was the highlight of the desk.  Also the shelving which held various books--mainly about school activities (yearbooks, activities, etc).  A typewriter was out with a stack of books and papers by it.  He even had a banker’s lamp by the adding machine.  I felt as if I had stepped into an office.  To top this off, next to the desk were two filing cabinets, locked.  On top of the filing cabinet were several cacti in pots.    Coming around to the wall on the right side of the door, was another dresser.  This one was tall. 

Several things to notice.  His stereo system stood on this dresser.  Also the basic color scheme was--black.  The dressers were black, the wardrobes were black, the nightstands and bed were black.  Even the spread and pillowcases were black (black satin I was to find out--must be nice).  Only the chrome lamps and several paintings and the awards and trophies everywhere gave the room color.

Bob finally hung up the phone and shook his head as if to work out a crick.  He looked at me as I sat in the chair by the desk.

“What do you think?”

“Why black?’

A smile.  “Black is my favorite color, believe it or not.  Besides, it’s different shades of black.”

“Do you always have so many messages?”

“Normally.  I get up here and spend sometimes two to three hours on the phone.  Last year during prom time, I spent six hours a day on the phone.”

A thought must of hit him because he sort of half-smiled.

“What did you think of my closet?  You spent quite some time in there.”

“Do you actually wear all that?”

“No.”

“Then why do you have all that?  You could open a thrift store.”

“A thrift store? Not likely. Armani does not go into thrift stores.  But I like to buy.  I go nuts shopping and don’t wear half of what I buy.  I wind up giving it to charity, or consignment shops, or to friends.  If you notice, some garments still have price tags.”

“I noticed.  But why?”

“I don’t know.  Wish I did.”

Then he changed the subject.  This was to be a pattern.  Every time I started getting into a deep subject, it was changed.  I got glimpses, but then was shut out.  It really made for a difficult interview.

“Are you ready to be an instant senior?” he inquired.

I hadn’t thought of that.

“Will you help with the work I need to make up?” I asked.

“Naturally.  You do need to keep up your GPA, you know.  Oh, do want to go running with me in the morning?”

“How early.”

“About 4:30, 5.”

“No.  Not tomorrow.”

He seemed disappointed, sighed and then got out his ever-present day planner
and began checking things off and writing things down.

“My to do list,” he explained.

Betsy came in just then.

“All settled?”

I told her I was.

“It’s 11pm.  I just wanted to say goodnight.”

“Night,” drawled Bob.

He looked at me.

“I guess that means sleep.”

I realized I was dead tired all of a sudden.  I saw him staring at me.

“Goodnight,” he said.

I walked across the hall to my room.  By 11:30 all lights were off and everyone was in bed.  I stayed up reading for a while then smiled and looked around at my really nice and comfortable guest bedroom.  If nothing else went right, at least I got to do it in good living conditions.

DAY TWO - MONDAY

I am not a sound sleeper.  The slightest noise will wake me.  Luckily I can fall right back asleep.  So I was awake when Bob left to go jogging.  I heard him leave, and I heard the door close.  I glanced at the time-4:45am.  Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.

I felt myself being shook and looked up and saw Bob standing there, dressed and ready for school.

“Get up and get ready,” he whispered.

“What time is it?”

“Six o‘clock.  I leave at 6:30.”

“Why?”

“I get to school by 7 to get things done.  It’s the only way,” he told me sotto capo.  “Come on, I need to pick up Mike.”

So I got up and got ready.  By 6:30 we were in the car warming it up.  The radio was playing Pantera.  Pantera at 6:30 in the morning is not conductive.

We pulled out of the driveway and headed across the highway to Mike’s house.  It seems that the Key Club has a project going on carpooling.  Bob and Mike trade weeks.  This week it was Bob’s week.

Oh, I should tell you, if you did not know--Bob and Mike are best friends.  They are around each other at least 70% of the day.  They have most of the same classes, carpool, and hang out together.  Mike is also the person closest to him and he knows everything.  The only note of discord is a literal note.  Bob like’s hard rock--Judas Priest, Ozzie, Metallica, etc.  Mike hates hard rock.  He likes country--George Jones, Hank Williams, Dolly Parton, Conway Twitty.  Bob hates country.  So this made for a lot of radio switching.  It was finally decided that the common music ground was Oldies. Except for early in the morning.  Then we listen to Bob’s station because of the morning show.  The Big Show is crazy.

We made it to school by 7:05 and went straight into the SGA office.  There Stormy Grey was waiting.  This also was to happen all week long.  Sometimes Bob was first, other times Stormy was.  Today she seemed glad to see me and put me to work painting posters.

Bob has a desk in this office, complete with a gift from Sherri Simony--a black marble with gold lettering name plate.  I sensed there was a story behind the gift, but Bob just smiled when I asked and never did tell me.  The time passed rather quickly until first bell.

The first class of Bob’s day is as an assistant in the main office.  The other assistant is Jo Gette who was not happy to see me.  I got the feeling that she liked it just her and Bob.  Bob told me about their arrangement.  She helps him in math, he helps her in physics.

“Or physical, you can say,” flirted she.

Bob gave a slow smile.

“Just the science, in this class at least.”

Jo laughed.  Dr. Hunden came in just then and began giving tasks to do.  I took it that he did not like having these two in the same period.  Mrs. Miden congratulated me on being so perceptive.

Second period was English.  Or as it says in the book--English 12 Advanced, British Lit.  I am in a regular English 10 class.  This class got me lost.

Third period was Math.  Again to be technical--Algebra 2/Trig.  Again, I take Algebra 1.  Another lost cause.

Fourth was no better.  This was Physics AP.  I was getting a serious headache.  Bob however was a true wiz at this class.  He told me after that he had the highest average in not only the class but in the whole science department.  Looking it up, it was true.  He truly loved science.  Hated math, but loved science.

Fifth period had me almost going to Mark Mantle and telling him to forget this assignment. It was French.  French 4 AP to be precise.  I take French 1. 

After this class was lunch.  I told Bob that I could not take a whole week on this schedule.  Half a day and I was wishing I was back to being a regular sophomore.

“Well, I can’t take Mickey Mouse courses and get Harvard.  However, afternoon is leisure time.”

We walked though the cafeteria line.  Bob got a plate for the salad bar and an iced tea.  He watched me going for my lunch card and stopped me.  He looked horrified and then he paid for both lunches.

“I get it at a reduced price,” I told him.

“Not this week you don’t,” he said, rather icily.

I stared at him and followed over to the lunch table.  Everyone knew why I was there but I felt awkward.  I was the only member of my sex at the table.  I took a seat next to Bart.

“Having fun?”

I shook my head and told him of the classes and the early wake up call.  He laughed.  Mike looked over at me.

“See Kim.  We‘ve sat at this table from the time we walked into this here school.  An’ people think we have an interesting’  life.”

This caused general laughter and I must admit, I loosened up a little.  I didn’t join in the conversation, unless I was spoken to because I did not know what to say.  People from the next table over like Ollie Criss and Miles Chade came up to visit.  So did a lot of females.  A lot.  I mean, I am not unpopular in this school, but I never have seen a table with so much traffic.  I felt like Queen of the Day.  People who normally ignored me engaged me in conversation.  This felt good. 

After lunch, we walked to sixth period which was Art 3 Advanced.  As a non artist I sat watching.  Bob can really paint.  He works in pastels and is really, really good.  Half the awards in his room are actually for art.  He drew what he called a study of me.  Ms. Massey loved it.

Seventh period was Choir.  This was an alternate class in that on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday it was Choir.  On Tuesday and Thursday it turned into Men’s Ensemble.  Another fact, Bob has a beautiful singing voice.  A very deep and resonant baritone.  I told him this was a learning experience.  He asked how.

“You can draw, sing, are good at science.  This is not quite your image.”

“Appearances, darling‘, can be very deceiving.”

Last period was Annual.  I am actually in this class.  Most people think that this is an easy class.  From what I heard it used to be until Bob became editor.  Now it’s work.  I was given envious looks.  This was cool.

After class was an Interact meeting (which Bob just happens to be president of) and this lasted until 4.  Then came football practice.  Just the players, coaches, myself, and Diana Weaver.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Funny how everyone asked a version of that first.  I told her of the day thus far.  She smiled.

“Early morning or not, I would not mind being in your shoes.”

I asked about her boyfriend.

“I love Donny.  But Bob is…Bob is…so hot.  I mean, he is a fox.  He drives me crazy.  If not for my Don, I would be right there after him.”

I stared at her.  Alrighty then.

Practice ended at 6pm.  After he took a shower (the second of the day), we drove back to the house.

Dinner was pot roast.  It was good.  Then afterwards, Betsy went upstairs to work on a term paper.  Bob was in advanced classes, Betsy was in honors classes.  I felt rather inadequate.  Mr. and Mrs. Roth left for their Monday bridge game next door with the Bantan’s (John’s parents).  That left me and Bob alone in the family room.  We watched MTV for a while.

“So what do you do for fun?”

Bob laughed and grabbed my hand and led me into the living room.

The living room was a very formal room.  I actually did not want to touch anything or sit on anything.  Bob led the way to the so called “Music Corner”.  This stood behind a beautiful Chinese screen.  On the walls were pictures of instruments.  And an acoustic guitar stood on a stand.  Next to it was an actual harp--gold with pedals.  It was huge.  Bob warned me not to even breathe on it.  It cost more than his car.  But the major thing was the baby grand Steinway.  It cost more than his father’s car.  Bob took a seat and ran a scale.

“What do you want to hear?”

I decided to be smart.

“Beethoven.”

Bob laughed and stared playing just that.  Then he launched into a sort of jazz melody.

“You ask what I do for fun on a weeknight?  Well, either I draw or play.  Usually play.  I can do this for hours.  It’s how I relax.  The piano is my savior sometimes.”

“How long have you been playing?”

“Let’s see now.  I began formal lessons at 3 with my aunt.  Then went to camp.  Then started regular lessons at 5.  I took lessons until just last year.  So I’m sixteen now, so about 12 or 13 years.”  He stopped playing and ran his hand over the top.  “This was a Christmas present.  My aunt Hilda said that if I made the cut at the Young Concert Artist competition  she would buy it for me.  I did, also I made the AMSA World Piano competition.  I didn’t place in either, but I did decent.  That never made the newspapers.  Outside of certain people, only you know that.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell people that?”

“It’s private.  And as you say, it wouldn’t do my rep any good.  What do I say?  Yes, I love science, art, and music, so there is a geek side to me.  But then other side of my personality comes out as well.  Which side you like is the side I show.  If you are into the sex, drugs, rock and roll side I can party all night.  If you want to just relax and see a concert or an exhibit, I can do that too.  It’s just rare that I find someone I like to do that with and rarer still is the person whom I find truly enjoys both.”

And as his wont, he changed the subject to homework.  I got the feeling that he didn’t want anyone to get too close.  That surprised me more than anything else.

So homework was done.  Bob even finished his report for Art History.  Then we tackled my work.  I actually wound up understanding my algebra.  Then came the phone ritual (12 calls).  Then came a shower (his third) and then bed by 11.  It had been a learning experience of a day.

DAY 3 - TUESDAY

DAY three began the same as day 2, with the run.  We also got to school early.  The day began the same.  The classes were no easier than the day before. 

Now on to Bob’s locker.  I have heard a lot about this subject.  The lowdown on the locker is this--it’s the same locker he has had for all three years and it‘s located in the loft.  He actually fought for the privilege and in the process managed to turn it into a sort of closet.  The top of the locker is for books.  The bottom is what needs to be described.  He equipped it with a battery powered light and divided the locker into sections.  A small file cabinet stood on the bottom.  Next to it were two pair of shoes--one pair were dress shoes, the other athletic shoes.  Above the file cabinet hung a clothes rod.  It contained two suit jackets, three pair of pants, one pair of jeans,  two dress shirts, and a jacket and a sweater.  In a basket hung on the wall to the side of the rod were three pairs of socks.  Also hanging were five ties.  A jewelry box was bolted to the top of the file cabinet and locked.  It contained I was to find out, an extra watch (a Timex), tie tacks, and cufflinks. 

Continuing on, the door of the locker had a hook, a mirror, a small vanity basket with a brush, comb, hair spray, mousse, shaving kit, shampoo, and conditioner, and soap, all in trial sizes.  In all it looked as if he could live at the school.  I also asked why he kept all the stuff.

“I’ve had occasion in the past to use it.  If you notice, the men‘s room is right across the hall.  Very convenient.”

The day progressed.  Kevin Smythe ordered in Chinese for lunch for everyone at the table, to Dr. Hunden’s displeasure.  I as usual kept quiet, except for an interesting conversation with Bart.  It seems as if he’s sort of Bob’s protégée.  I found that interesting.  He told me he was being groomed for a position in EpPhi.

“Sort of like me?” I jibed.

Bart shook his head.  “Not quite like you, Kim.  Believe me, not quite like you.”          
After school was another club meeting.  This time it was the Interclub.  As president of the SGA, Bob is also chairman of the Interclub Council.  After this was football practice, Diana, and myself.

We left after practice and went straight to the house.  Dinner was steak and afterwards Bob had another activity to go to--at night.  This was the Kappa Chi Rho meeting and it met at the school in the auditorium.  It lasted about an hour and we were back by 8pm.  Afterwards Bob, Betsy, and I got to go swimming for a while, that was fun.

Then came the homework routine and then the phone calls.  Then we crashed.

DAY 4 - WEDNESDAY
         
THE day began with the normal run.  Then off to school with Mike in tow as normal.  He got into the back seat and opened his Spanish book.  Language class is one of the only classes that they differ in.  Bob looked in the rear view at him.

“What’s so damned funny?”

Mike shook his head.

“Is gettin’ to y’all, ain’ it?  Ah kin tell.”

“Your brother-in-law put you up to this, didn’t he?”          

“Swear to God, Marcus said not a word.  Linda wen’ shoppin’ with Babs yes’day, so she didn’ even see ‘im.”

A smile.  “But is gettin’  to y’all.”

“Nada.”

“Si es, Roberto.”

The conversation went on like that, with Mike doing his homework all the while.  I finally asked him why he had to do it riding in the car.

“Snoopy reporter, aren’ y’all?  Actually, ah had a date last nigh’ with Amy Painter, an got home late.”

“A date on a Tuesday?  Since when?”  Bob wanted to know.

“Not a date date.  Sorta a ridin’ date, if y’all get my drift.”

Bob did and smiled.  I didn’t and they did not let me in on the secret.  I was to hear a lot of in-jokes and conversation and to this day, do not know what was going on.  It seemed only two people did--Roberto and Miguel.
         
School progressed, clubs progressed (Key Club this time, another presidency), football progressed then back to Bob’s house.  Dinner was pork roast, and then we went to church for choir practice and a meeting, since Mr. Roth is a deacon in the church.  When we got back to the house, Bob was in a frenzy to get ready for yet another night meeting--Epsilon Phi.  The meeting was supposed to begin at 7:30pm, sharp.  And with EpPhi, if you are not on time, you get fined.  Bob approached his dad and asked to borrow a boat.  After some pleading, Mr. Roth gave in and Bob and I made our way out the back gate to the dock.

Once on the dock, Bob took the cover of a motorboat and carefully folded it up.  Then he gave me a lifejacket from beneath the seat and put one on himself.  I got gingerly into the craft (I have been on a boat only once--in summer camp).  Then he boarded, put the key in the ignition and the motor came to life.

I expressed surprise at the key.  I thought that you had to pull a chain on the motor or something.  Bob laughed at my lack of knowledge about boating.  In any case, Bob undid the mooring and carefully backed the boat out, just as you would a car.  Then he put it into gear, told me to hang on, and off we sped across the lake.

This puzzled me, why were we going on a wild boat ride?  The answer became clear as we pulled alongside several other watercraft.  Bob lashed the boat to the pier, put the keys in his pocket, grabbed a bunch of papers he had with him in a waterproof bag, and we almost ran up the hill to a giant mansion.

The place belonged to Richard Freed.  The house itself was huge and we entered the den, where everyone was getting together for the meet. We were 90 seconds early to the dot.

The meeting went on as they usually do with Bob almost out of breath during part of it, and then Rich, not usually even given to acknowledging my presence, decided to give me a tour.  He proved to be a surprisingly gracious host.  We went out back to the stables, which made me wary for they were very quiet and very dark, with just the occasional nicker of a horse.

“Just wanted to show you the famous riding stalls.  In case you ever wish to come back here.”

“I don’t ride,” I said self consciously, as Rich was not a bad looking person.  He smiled a very sly smile.

“Oh, you will.”

Then we went back into the house, with me still wondering at Rich.  The meet broke up and we went back to the boat for the trip home.  I had questions.

“Why did we take a boat?”

“Quicker.  No stoplights, speed limits, and it is basically straight across.”

I told him what Rich had said and he laughed and told me to think on it.

We were back to the house by 10pm, Bob took his shower, made his calls, did his homework and by 11:30, it was lights out. 

By the way, I still am not quite sure what Rich meant.

DAY 5 - THURSDAY

THURSDAY began a little differently.  For one thing it rained.  I could hear Bob cussing quietly in his room.  This obviously upset the run.  Then he came into my room and told me to get up.

“If you won’t run with me, then the least you can do is work out.”

He sounded sort of put out and so I got up, put on some sweats, and followed him into the basement. 

This was not a dark, damp, spooky basement.  It was a well lit and cheery place.  The front of it was a sort of den area.  Then down a corridor and past a bathroom.  On the opposite side was a gym.  It had a rowing machine, stair climber, a treadmill, and workout gear.  Also a Solarflex and a weight bench.  I sat on a chair and Bob gave me a look.  Then he went over to the treadmill, set it for 15 miles, uphill, at a medium speed, put on a walkman, and started his run.  After this ended, he went over to the Solarflex to work out.

“Is this what you do in the rain?”

“Normally I only do seven miles.  In the rain I do 15.  It’s a different run than on pavement.”

Then he did some traditional calisthenics.  This included push ups and sit ups and some chin ups on a bar.  I was exhausted just watching him.

“Do you do this every morning?”

“The weights just three times a week.  The calisthenics I do everyday.  It’s how I maintain my figure.”

And he smiled.  I had to admit that in truth you could tell as he had about zero body fat and that six pack of abs.

After the workout we went upstairs where Bob took a shower and we got ready to go.

When we got to Mike’s house, he climbed into the back seat.

“We need to pick up Mark.  His car won’ start.”

“I told him about that damn distributor,” groused Bob.

And we were off to the home of this papers editor.  This was a nice place in the Spanish Village area of town.  Mark got in besides Mike.

“Sorry.  And before you start, yes I did have the distributor looked at and they are replacing it today.  Also, we have to get Bart.”

A sort of grumble and then off we went about 4 blocks to another big Spanish-type home and Bart got in.  I was left in the front seat, so the three guys in back were sort of squished in.  It looked very comical. 

We finally got to school and Stormy was very overly excited about having everyone there.  We were all put to work, except Bob who had some paperwork to catch up on.  I noticed that Stormy was usually the one to assign things.  She laughed about that and said that if she did something Bob did not agree with, she would know about it.  Usually he agreed with her, so he didn’t say anything.  She told me not to read too much into it and to notice that she never told Bob what to do, just the others.

The day progressed normally; I froze in my cheerleader outfit, as I usually do.  Then something strange happened.  We signed out of the school early, before Annual.  This seemed to be expected.

Once in the car, I asked Bob what we were doing.

“I have a dental appointment today, so I guess you get to meet my dentist.  On the other hand, I get to miss the Warrior 84 meeting.”

We drove into downtown Orlean and parked in front of an office building.  Out of the car and into the dentist--who turned out to be Mr. Branch, Bart’s dad.

“Small world,” I remarked to Bob.

“Small town,” he corrected.

The receptionist greeted us and we sat there for about 35 minutes.  Then Bob was called and off he went.  He was out soon enough; it was only a checkup and cleaning.  And no, he did not have any cavities or anything else wrong with his teeth.

Thinking we were going back to his house, I was shocked to see us head back to school.  I forgot about football practice.

Since Bob was late, Coach Captone made him stay after and do some extra laps, something that was not really a hardship to someone who runs a mini marathon every morning.  The rain had made everything sort of muddy and after the showers, we headed back to his house.

The rain had stopped and, as I said, I had to cheer at the game that night, so Bob went as sort of my date.  We won (to tell which game would give away the time period, so let’s just tell the score--10-7) and went out to eat at McDonald’s to celebrate.  Bob assured Donny that the bet was still on and challenged me to say different.  I could not, so my word was taken.

By the time we got out of the restaurant, it was poring down rain.  Soaked to the skin, we got to the car.  At his house he pulled out a remote and the gates opened automatically.  At the same time, the garage opened as well.  I was impressed and said as much.  Bob shrugged.  I wonder if I’m really good if I could come back in another life to live like this?  Everyone was asleep when we came in, or actually, everyone was in their rooms.  Betsy was doing homework; she had a particularly difficult biology product she had to do.  Mr. and Mrs. Roth were in their room reading when Bob poked his head in to say goodnight.

Then he took another shower and did his homework.  Luckily he had the foresight to do most of it while waiting for the doctor today.  Then he listened to his messages (10 of them, slow day) and off to bed he went.  I stayed up to talk to Betsy a while and even got to help her with her project.  Betsy wants to be a doctor when she graduates so is taking HOSA and biology courses.  One thing I figured out was that I rather follow Bob’s schedule of classes then Betsy’s.  While Bob’s is hard, Betsy’s would be impossible.  Biology II AP, Calculus AP, English AP,  Latin III, Choir/Women’s Ensemble, Journalism II Advanced, HOSA III.  And she was a straight A student with a grade average of above 4.0.  Bob’s GPA is 3.8.  Mine is 3.5, but I do not take advanced classes, except Choir. 

Talking with Betsy, I found out that Mrs. Roth owns the animal hospital in town and Mr. Roth is an Executive Vice President with DM.  That would explain the house and the objects in it.  I told her my dad works at the plant as a forklift operator.  She said that if it wasn’t for people like my dad, her dad would not be working.  Nice thing to say, and she meant it, but I still would love to live this kind of life.

I asked her about Bob.  She laughed and said that he was an interesting person who had been through a lot of things in his life. 

“For every thing there is a reason, Kim.  Remember that.”

I told her she seemed different from Bob, more settled.  After all, she has a steady in Ken Howards and seemed to be more together.  That caused a laugh.

“Don’t let him fool you.  Bob is a very ambitious, incredibly determined person with a extremely strong personality that will suck you in like a black hole.  Words of advice--don’t get too deep, you might not like what you see and you might not be able to escape.”

She would not elaborate on that statement and so I wondered about it until I fell asleep.

DAY SIX - FRIDAY 

WHEN I agreed to write this article, one of the rules was that Bob got final edit.  Mark argued for freedom of the press and all, but Bob is president of EpPhi and reminded Mark that it was not a democracy.  For the most part, he left the story alone, changing a cuss word here and there and having Mike speak more or less proper English, instead of his natural slow, and I do mean slow, panhandle drawl (he spent some of his formative years ’jus outside Penscola‘, as he put it).  Just small things.

Then came Friday.  One day I just might publish the outtakes.  But then again, I like Bob a lot.  So take this with a grain of salt.  Also keep this in mind for Saturday as well.

Friday began well with nice weather and the run.  Mark had gotten his car fixed so we just had to pick up Mike.  Now, the night before, Bob had worked on a speech for that morning’s pep rally.  Two speeches actually, one that he had to give as president of the SGA and one he had to give as captain of the football team. 

Mike was silent as he got into the car.  He had played quarters the night before with Mark and had a bit of a hangover.  He slept most of the way to school, so that put a bit of a damper on the morning.

Stormy ran late.  She had a flat and had to fix it.  Bob went into his office to work on his speeches. 

“He gets like this on pep rally days.  He does not like giving these rah rah talks.  Beware.”

She did not say that hard enough.

First period came and Jo made some revisions to the pep speech.  Everything was copasetic, and then Mike came in.  He was running an errand for his US History teacher, Mrs. Chade.  Jo came alive, to everyone’s amusement.  She sat up straight on a stool and struck a pose. 

Bob, still on his speech, looked at her.  Then at Mike and grinned, showing all of his teeth.  Bob rarely smiles where he actually shows his his entire just cleaned set of teeth. 

“Been workin out?” Mike asked her.

Jo stretched out a leg.

“Does it look like it?” she asked, dangling her shoe at him.

“Yeah, it does.”

“Actually, honey, I lost about 170 pounds lately.  Looks good on me, doesn’t it?” she said, cocking her head to the side and smiling.

Bob almost fell of his chair at this remark.  Mike was quiet for moment, aware that everyone in the office was staring at him--well besides us there was a sophomore I didn’t know getting an attendance record.

“Well, y’all actually lost a lot more than that,” he drawled, even slower than usual.

Total silence.  Bob sat back in his chair watching.  Not knowing what was happening, the sophomore and I just wondered.  Then Jo got up.  Bob cleared his throat.  Jo looked and him and held a hand up.  She walked up to Mike, leaned over the counter, crooked her finger at him and said something in his ear.  She pulled away and Mike went to say something to her…

RED LINE!!!
(As I said at the outset…whenever I have to cut something, I will let you, my readers, know.  Bob and Mark agreed to this.) 

After the excitement of first period, Bob was not in a great mood.  We got to class, sat down, and three minutes later a disembodied voice called for Bob to report to the gym.  He must have known it was coming for he had not even taken out as much as a pen.  He said something to Mike as he walked out, me following.

At the gym, it was chaos.  Bob looked around, took a bottle of aspirin from his bag and swallowed a couple.  Then he was assaulted on all sides.  Sally Barnes needed help with this for the cheerleaders, Barbara Belco needed help with this for the flags.  Kim Elot needed help for the majorettes…well; you get the gist of this.  The Strong Personality part of him took over and got everything in order.  Since I was part of the cheerleading routine, I stayed with Sally and out of his way.  He was not in a good mood.  Stormy was right.  She knew him and his moods very well.

“And I don’t even date him,” she cracked.

“Would you ever?”

“Not my type and I am not his type.  We went out once, had a blast and decided we would never make a romantic coupling.  No chemistry.  He goes for…well, girls like you.  Not me.  Besides, my Robby and I are soul mates.”

After all was settled down, I went to look for Bob and found him trying to set up the podium.  He shook out two more pills.  I walked up to him to see if there was anything I could do.  There wasn’t so I sat on a chair, watching him as he wired up the mike.  He tested it a few times and Barbara came up.

“Tonight still on, right?”

“Oh god, I forgot.”

“Forgot?”

“Barbie, please, first Mike, then you.  Enough.”

“What about Mike?”

He explained about what had happened earlier, and she shook her head.

“You know what I see, Bob?  I see them married for about seven years, then I see them cheating on each other and divorcing in a rather nasty way.”

“I think everyone sees that, darling.”

“About tonight?”

“Kim comes along.”

That earned a RED LINE!!! conversation that had Bob reaching for the aspirin once more.  I asked, tentively if it was good taking six aspirin in the space of an hour.  All I got was a look and I let it drop.

All things considering, the pep rally went well.  Bob’s speeches sounded fine and everyone cheered.  It did make me wonder how he could fake his enthusiasm.  A gift, I figured.  A politician’s skill.

The rally lasted until lunch where the topic of conversation was my going on a date with Bob as an observer.  This was another RED LINE!!! conversation, for good reason this time.  I would have cut it myself.

Because of the morning, the afternoon flew by.  Bob left before Annual again, but this time on Annual business.  He had to go to the publisher.  We did, the printer was in Orlando.  Bob did what he had to do and we drove back.  It didn’t take long.  Then he filled in a voucher to be reimbursed for his gasoline and turned it in to the office.  This was something I never thought of before.  Bob said he did it all the time.  If he had to travel on school business, he kept records.

We were back for another Warrior 84 meeting, this one a rally.  I had the feeling the last thing Bob wanted was another pep rally.

TO BE CONTINUED...