Let Lester Lipton Live A Little Longer--Ladies!

by
Mitchell Alexander Jackson

.PART I

I was at the desk studying when mousy Lester hurried into the room, slammed the door shut then threw the bolt, next collapsed against the door, completely out of breath.

It seems I'm always in that corner lately. My grades are on the downhill slide, and it's an effort just to keep them from plummeting haphazardly unchecked. There's nothing cool about poor grades; the brothers don't know you, and the girls don't want to. So, lately I've been spending my evenings in the dunce corner-as usual. But things went from bad to-- Well, I had to double my efforts at odd breaks in the day, trying to get it together. And though Lester is responsible, in a unique way, for my poor grades, I have only fondest regards for the little man.

Lester and I have been roommates. He was fresh from the University-"this college on the hill above Harlem." Now he was down South. I never did find out why. But soon enough we became roaming buddies-since second quarter of my freshman year, when he moved on campus. Since the beginning, Lester had always been a very quiet guy who kept to himself. He didn't seem to fit into any circle. Oh, he was smart, a real brain. But he didn't have the looks to interest a blind girl on a fogy morning. His looks kept him on unequal terms with the world. I felt sorry for him.

Looking up from my boring studies, I anxiously waited, anticipating the interruption. The figure of Lester Bernard Lipton, breathing heavy against the door, finally drew up without a word. The poor guy had his troubles. He glanced over at me, then back at the bolted door-as though not knowing which way to turn. He has been so much alone most of his life that when he became popular, he didn't know how to handle the situation.

I only wished I had his troubles!

"That was close," Lester said breathed. His teeth, like polished chrome sparkling in the sunlight, jutted out beyond his large fleshy lips.

How many now," I sighed.

"Fourteen."

"How did you manage that?"

Poor Lester swayed his stooped shoulders forward, dragging himself forward. He dropped upon the bed. "Oh--you know." His sad voice died away.

I nodded; I suppose I did. He had told me often enough.

My friend Lester stood a bit over five-three. To top it off, my home-boy was rail thin! If you can picture a stomp of a gate post-I used to say to describe buddy Lester to my folks-with a wide forehead, a narrow chin, and a nose out to here-then you got yourself a Polaroid of Lester. I'm not one to hold a mirror up to another when it comes to looks. We all got to make do with our birthday wrapping. Beyond that, Lester's nose had been broken three different times-all when he was too young to remember. So, for the life of me, I couldn't understand the logic behind his spontaneous popularity. But that sudden burst of "Rose of Sharon" had wilted his perfect honor student record.

Last quarter poor Lester had gotten a "B." English. And a "C" in American Government. Doesn't sound like a major upset. But to know Lester Bernard Lipton is to know that this was a "melt down" in the making. It was-his own word-a "catastrophe!" And though we had little to say to each other at the beginning of our rooming together, the little guy became more and more distraught and more and more dependent on my helping to get him through his popularity crises. You better know, we became close friend!

"Girls…." It was more of an expelling of pent up anxiety if any thing.

"Why don't you choose one and pin her?" I volunteered further, "The others would get the picture and fade out of the picture, eventually."

"Eventually should have been yesterday! Besides, you know I can't do that--" he sputtered.

"Yeah," I said. And this one thing I did know.

Mystery of mysteries. Why do people always want what they can't own?

Ever since the beginning of the "Girls get Lester Lipton" campaign two quarters back, Lester and I have been as close as Siamese twins. I became his "bodyguard" (--not that his body was subject to any undesirable attacks, by my standards, at least). I was more a public relations go-between, I suppose, and everything meant for Lester had to be cleared first by me.

During that time, I also bought a little black book. And all the names, addresses, and telephone numbers that were forced on the little, meek Lester, I readily recopied into my black book. I now own three such books. But when my grades started slipping, and no small amount of studying helped, I had to shut myself away and get down to brass tacks. Even so, I too, grooved on Bessie and Bach-needing to give a little to this way and that. This left Lester very much on his own. And my man was being swallowed whole!

And it was this Lester who slowly pulled himself up, and set up on the covers. "Andrew. You've got to think of something."

His plea touched my heart-but my grades had a padlock on my day's wallet. The risk was too great.

"My head's too cluttered just now, Lester. This darn history, with Benjamin Franklin proclaiming to the Continental Congress, 'Let George do it!' and Thomas Jefferson uttering, 'By God, let's do it!' -only remind of my dad's comment when I phoned for a little extra change. 'The Dickens, you say!' At once historical and literary."

Lester merely groaned.

"Oh, I'll think of something. I promise. Just give me a little more time. Coyly I added, "you got a date tonight?"

"Yeah," was his dismal reply.

"What you got planned?"

"Oh, the pizza parlor. Then a movie."

I smiled to myself; old Lester must have a little Italian blood in his veins: pizza, the third night this week, and it's only Wednesday!

The lucky girl?" I made an effort to keep a straight face as I watch Lester's expression go sour.

"Sheryn Stokley."

"Oh-hah!" I could no longer keeping my eagerness in check. "So, you're going to the Relief!"

"Relief?"

"I'm sure you have a Point, Lane or something where you come from. With the Drifters it was Under the Boardwalk. Or maybe, Up on the Roof," I explained.

"I see."

Here in Georgia, the same. And here, with Sheryn Stokey--? It was always Relief Bluff. She was that kind of a date.

"Sounds like you'll going to take in the view at the Bluff," I said casually.

"Huh--?"

"Going all the way, this time?" I winked.

Lester's mouth flew wide. "You're being sarcastic, Andrew!"

I backed off. But Sheryn Stokey was a real hot number. All the brothers knew how eager she could be if the guy was to her liking; so I felt obligated to advise him further.

"Better watch yourself," I ventured. "Or you won't be a virgin much longer."

"Now, come off that, Andrew!"

I continued to muse over the meekest of men's titillating predicament. It's astounding how girls throw themselves at this gentle mishap of nature. A Merrick he was not. Still looms that mystery-why? He's a sore sight, even if he is a brain. But what's really surprising is that he can carry his weight in conversations of any subject, on any level-but sex; in which case, he becomes as mute as a giraffe with laryngitis!

It seems that because he knows so little about sex in general, the girls feel glorified in teaching him. And with every lesson, he becomes more and more disgruntled. Only I know his secret. He's a celibate! A strange existence for the human condition. Perhaps his religion prohibits sex of any sort. Of course, this is a guess on my part. Lester doesn't make a clear argument in this area. But what is clear is that that female intuition has kicked in with just about every girl he's met. It's almost as if the girls suspect it.

A great failing of human nature is to desire the unattainable: whereas my friend, Lester, was impossible to reach, I was always readily agreeable. But there's no pleasing some women.

As I continued to gently mull over this strange dilemma during the stretch of silence, the logical response blossomed. "That's it!"

"What?" My disquieted friend came alert.

"You've been playing your cards all wrong," I said.

"I--I don't play cards."

"That's why you're getting your pants whipped off! Don't you get it? It's because you're a lousy card player. You're too transparent, Lester. Bet you never even heard of 'the bluff'?"

"I'm keeping my trousers on, thank you," Lester returned, registering only to the more immediate of his concerns.

"And I'm going to help you do just that. Why with the old bluff and poker face, you can't miss.

For the fist time in some while it seemed that his eyes held a look of hope. I responded to his gratitude.

"All you got to do," I guardedly replied, "is-take their pants off first."

"Now wait a minute--" he protested.

"First, hear me out. From the start, Lester, weren't they trying to get to you? It was you fighting then off. Well, right?"

Lester hesitantly nodded.

"Now, what if the situation were reversed? After all, there are two sides to a coin, the law of gravity, reverse polarity, and everything." I was groping to make a point. I guess it showed.

"What do you mean, Andrew?"

"If the girls love the side you show them," I said, "then show them the opposite side. If what you do give them a real high, do the opposite and bring them down to earth. Lester, if they back you into a corner with 'deliberate intentions,' throw the switch. Man, make them back up over the same stretch you were obligated to cross. Just be the aggressor," I challenged him. "And they will automatically take up the defensive."

"Really?"

"My man, you can go only so far, and then they'll have to unhitch--say something like, 'Sorry, but I changed my mind.' A woman's prerogative, as they say."

Lester looked on questioningly. "What's to keep us from going all the--? You know.

I answered his uncertainty with a fact that could not escape him. I flatly asked. "Did you go all the way?"

"No, but--"

"So, there! Nothing added nor detracted. The situation remains stable. The same…only reversed."

"Andrew, I am aware of the Chaos Theory. No, don't think so."

That Chaos Theory doesn't create chaos. It allows for the creation of the familiar even during chaotic times."

"But whose 'familiarity,' Andrew? Mine or the girl's? I mean, how often do so many girls find themselves competing for the same one guy? Whose winds up getting la vida de familiar?

"Look, Lester," I said, sounding as positive as I could. "Trust me. The only change will be your switched identities."

"Reality."

"Okay, realities. In the beginning, the women were positive in their actions and you were negative in yours. Now you'll take up the positive role, thereby--" I paused fore greater emphasis.

"The girls will be inclined to take on the only roll available to them. Not just a reality check, but a roll reversal! Lester exclaimed.

"And I guaranty they won't like it one bit more than you do."

But the weight of what he must commit himself to--or perhaps the gravity of an undesired outcome must have struck home. "Or you sure--?"

"Proof positive! Try--or die," I reminded him.

For certain I was far from sure. But I saw no sense in snatching away what little hope he had after I sweated nails driving that bit of hope into him.

"Well, okay. But, you're coming with me."

"Huh-uh."

"I'll get you a girl," he persisted.

"Too much homework," I replied.

***

.PART II

When 9:00 o'clock p.m. came about, Lester stood at the bedroom door, dressed in black ankle-boots and a gold color jump suit with black embroidery. "I can still get you that date if you're interested," his voice piped out anxiously.

I knew that he could, even at this late hour. But then, so could I. My little black books carried the same names and numbers as did his. I could make that same phone call. And all I had to say when the girl picked up was, "Lester B. and I are double dating. Want to come along?" There'd come a squeal through the receiver, followed by: Lester B is my sugar baby! Come on over!

This time Lester was prepared for my response. "I'll be glad to help with your studies when we return."

"Tempting." But I knew that I must not be persuaded.

The matter of my father's financial stance against my present grades, of course, was a factor. But I knew that if a draught of any kind were drunk tonight, it's crucible must not be tagged as having been influenced by me.

Lester stood poised for an explanation.

"You know my concentration is--well, I'm no Langston Hughes. I lose a thought and it gone. Not cut out to be the brain you are, Lester. No, you go. And remember--think positive. My man, make her cry uncle!"

He started towards the door then turned. "You, sure?"

"Reverse identity. Can't miss! Displaying the greatest of confidence I added, "Now go get'em tiger!"

Actually, I saw it as a fifty-fifty proposition: either he will or he won't!

In recapping Lester's peculiar predicament, I felt that if he did mange to become the aggressor and went beyond the point of no return--if he did go "all the way"…. In would be only because that hot number of his encouraged that trip to moon. Celibate or no, even Lester would have to say, "How sweet it is!" Furthermore, whose to say that that Sheryn Stokley isn't the very "rib" of Lester. At any rate, I reminded myself, she could be the catalyst to bring old Lester to his senses. I mean, a little taste is no disgrace-when it's all said and done, I grinned. Besides, whoever heard of a religion that didn't encourage its followers to "be fruitful and multiply," right? After all, what survives without this one necessity?

I have turned away as the dishearted Lester walked through the door to keep his rendevous. "The hot Sheryn Stokley," I heard myself say. Then I crossed my fingers. But for the life of me, I didn't know if were crossing in honor of Lester's preservation-or initiation.

I had barely drifted off to sleep after retreating from a stint of trig when I felt myself being drawn awake. Lester stood in the semi darkness.

"I did it!"

Was he…grinning? My sluggish brain yawned…sparked. I grew alert: Good glory, man, it's about time! The thought raced through my head. And for once I felt a true bond with the now smile Lester Bernard Lipton.

"Huh." I said, turning to stare at the clock on the bedside table-3:45 a.m. "Go--go to bed, man…" My body cried for sleep. And what's so revealing about lost innocence?

Five days later the new man Lester was already at my desk when I walked in during a free period. But this new Lester was taking on the characteristics of the Lester of old.

"What's on your mind, Lester?"

Lester fidgeted with a button or two. It was almost as if he was trying to not look me in the eye. And I instantly knew that that little tryst of the other night with Sheryn Stokley was returning to haunt him. There is a "buzz" on campus. And between the snickering and finger pointing, I caught wind of an "Andrew" or two. And now he's come to lay the blame directly at my feel. So he was deflowered! And how am I to blame! I only offered moral support. If a guy can't be a buddy to a friend without being blamed for every thing going wrong, then that friend is not buddy! Who needs him! I held to this thought and dove in-feet first.

"And how did it go? Wednesday night and Sheryn, I mean." If he wanted to hang his life's dissatisfactions on me, then I would make it clear that I no longer providing a sympathetic ear. He can think, et tu, Brutis, or I can make it clear-very clear. I gave him an all-knowing wink!

Lester's mouth flew open.

A sudden melting of resolve? A feeling of betrayal? Whatever it was, I will end it pronto. After all, he did say that he did do it. His doing! His responsibility! And there was no mistaking that grin of the other night.

I walked over to my bed, set upon it with regenerated peevish sentiment. I then encouraged my best friend: "Lester, gave me the facts. Don't skimp on the details." There! I had inquire openly of what was the gossip of the whole campus-the seduction of Lester Bernard Lipton!

Lester dropped on to a chair. For a moment I thought I saw Lester catch his breath. "It--it happened. Just as you said it would."

"What?" My hopes fell hard with disappointment. "You're saying--"

"Everything went on as usual…in the beginning. And all during the pizza and through the entire movie."

Lester's pause left a gaping hole of reflection for me. Lester and the hot Sheryn Stokley. Finger pointing--nothing more. How much have I lost?

The little man continued. "That Sheryn kept throwing herself at me; it was enough to make a monk sworn to silence scream right out! I cajoled, coasted, quelled…. Andrew, did all but appease."

"Yeah, I'm beginning to believe."

"But I have faith in our friendship. You're always there for me. So, when we were alone--Sheryn and I--You know, in her car at Relief Bluff, I took the initiative. She couldn't believe I was the same person! After holding her own in maintaining her honor, she started her car back toward the college. But I didn't let it end there."

"You--"

I pressed the issue, eh, engagement. And--" His face brighten.

"You didn't--"

"You've always been a trusted friend. After all," he added, "only gentlemen stop when told. So, just for good measure, I became a real nuisance. And it paid off!"

H I ow his large strip of white glistened at this pronouncement.

"That Sheryn got so mad that she put me out of her. Andrew, I had to walk the three miles back to the college."

During the unveilings of the details, I found myself with pent breath. Now, I all but collapsed back upon my elbows. I watched on as little sparks danced in his eyes; it was undeniable that he was pleased with himself.

"A nuesince? That's what hot Sheryn Stokley called you?"

"The prefect nuescience, the be exact."

"But the finger pointing," I replied. The grapevine…gossips? The other snickering girls?" I had brought myself to ask the question, yet the answer was as obvious as three now useless little black books.

"Oh, you know."

The smile vanished. The little man seemed not so happy with himself. Well, who needs him.

"Word got around." This new fain Lester returning the old remarked matter-of-factly. "The girls who were so eager to get something started is now something less than distant."

Although I tried to prepare myself for the inevitable. I still had trouble absorbing the knowledge of my great loss-and one step away from tossing my little black books out the window…and Lester after them. I tried to assuage my feeling of loss with the frown I saw draw out across his face. His frown deepened, as I toyed with the thought that, maybe, he regretted his actions, now that he's no longer in demand. And I silently wished that he'ld long remember and bemoan the good thing he had alienated.

"A nuescence?" Again the dreaded words fell from my lips as I looked at the image that had commanded every girl's dream. Now yesterday's pizza. How can I continue to be a friend to the likes of him? Sure, times had been good, as Elvis would say, girl crazy good. But when that mouse of a man cut his own throat, he cut mine as well. Hadn't I heard my name also whispered about? No, no friend would do a buddy that way. Sure I rode his coattail. His gain was my gain-and I made good use of it all. Just because he didn't have a taste for candy doesn't mean my sweet tooth should have to suffer. Oh, I'll get by. Maybe as usual. But having indulged in kingly delights, I can never again be satisfied with a peasant's palate. Lester's out of here!

"Well-" I began, and with the greatest of incentives to be cruel. "What's the matter? That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I guess." He pulled on an oversized ear; his frown, if possible, deepened even more. "But now the departments' typists and clerks are beginning to proposition me."

Amazement struck me hard across the face, and I almost fell over from the blow. It was so unexpected! "Like-like who?"

Lester took no notice of the shakiness in my voice. "Well, Mrs. Johnston. She's been broadly hinting for some time now. And there are others."

"You mean the Mrs. Madam la madam Johnston? The divorcée?" I, wide-eyed, could utter no more.

"Uh-huh. And--"

"Wait a minute," I croaked, "what--how?"

"Well, word got out that I was all action-'too hot to handle,' even for hot Sheryn Stokley."

I grinned, "I guess that would do it."

"Any way, she said that she can handle me just fine. It was bad enough with the young ladies," he moaned despairingly. "But now-I mean, those older women can be murder."

"Yeah." Now grinning from ear to ear, I said, "You're in the big leagues, now! Wow!"

"Andrew," he pleaded, "you've got to help me. Please think of something."

I could feel our friendship growing by the minute! How could I refuse him with the new predicament he found him in? If anybody knows Lester B. Lipton, it's me. This was too heavy a burden for him to shoulder alone.

I cleared my throat. In a tone reminiscent of the Rudy Vallies of olden days, I filled the moment with my presence. "Let me worry about that," I said.

Lester sighed. Very relieved, he left to make a two o'clock class.

To have thought the thoughts about the poor little guy! I chided myself, but good. I was, perhaps, the only close friend he had. And he was, indeed, my very dear friend. I'll have to think of something, I assured myself-with the warmest of smiles-and made a mental note to purchase three more little black address books. Never can tell how long it might take.

Mitchell Alexander Jackson ,,,The Author of S h o r n S h a r e r introduces
LET LESTER LIPTON LIVE A LITTLE LONGER--LADIES! ... ©November 21, 2003

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