Realistically, I just wanted to take Karlyn out to me fave.

Ice Cream Parlor, this old fashioned place I used to go to as a kid, in Piedmont: Fentons. It was not entirely out of the way from the Post Office, just a big wide detour. Okay, maybe it was, but since they didn't know where the hell we were, it really didn't matter, as long as they didn't see any signs that read: ``Nevada'' I could go just about anywhere I wanted, except William probably would have motioned in a generally northern 90 degree angle and said: ``Isn't Berkeley that way?''

We got a booth by the window, I could tell they were just loving it:
	``This place is so cool! You know where this reminds me of...'' etc., etc. Karlyn was being overly affectionate all night, probably because she thought I didn't mind that she wanted to out with someone else when I really did, I just didn't know how to express it.

Karlyn and William are quite the pair, though. I gave 'em both

quarters, felt like Dad. I drove them around when they needed it, took them to get Ice Cream. ``Now settle down in the back seat or I'll have to turn this car around and go get more ice cream.'' William stared at the quarter like: ``What's this for, why are you giving it to me?'' I pointed at the jukebox and explained: ``It's just a tradition of mine, I always give my friends quarters for music, I like to hear what they play, don't pick one myself.'' ``That's a cool tradition man.''

After a short while, the selected songs came on. William and Karlyn

came running back to our booth, giggling and bubbly. William strikes a pose and says: ``You know, you always know who picked the song on the jukebox, you can look around the room and whomever is sitting there dancing and bopping their heads, looking like geeks, it's a pretty good bet they did it. Oh, oh, you know what this song always reminds me of?'' He pauses for drama and busts into another dance, wish I could remember what song it was.

The best part about taking new people to Fentons is when they

get their Ice Cream. First they say: ``All right, here it is.'' Then they stare, then they blink a couple of times. Both Karlyn and William had ordered the Brownies, which was about three massive scoops of ice cream, and a plateful of brownie on the bottom. William is diplomatic about it and asks me: ``Where's the brownie?'' I smirk at them and answer: ``On the bottom.'' Karlyn just sits there in awe of her inability to even start the mound, and declares her desire to not be able to finish it.

About forty five minutes later, and three half eaten dishes of

ice cream, we have to leave. William said he needed to be dropped off at Wheeler Hall on campus. I could hear him stammer in the back seat, something like: ``This block is fine.'' but I like to drive on campus. See, they don't stop you at the guard gates in the middle of the night, Berkeley even has the courtesy to lift all the drive barriers, so you can park on Sproul Plaza and relive the riots or just cross your fingers and hope a cop doesn't spot you in the ``maintenance vehicles only'' area. On the way there both he and Karlyn say: ``I've never been this far on campus in a car before.'' I just smile. I like to park on those signs painted on the ground that tell you No Bike Riding. ``When I said drop me off at Wheeler, I didn't think I'd get dropped off -At Wheeler-'' William said as he shut the gate to my van. I guess ya hadta've been there.

That was pretty much the last time I saw either of them,

not really by choice, I just can't handle the pressure that Karlyn was asking me to go through, even though it wasn't just her who was applying the pressure. It was strange, each of the last few times William walked into the apartment when I was there, he asked if he was `interrupting' something. We always said he wasn't, but Karlyn meant it in all senses of the word. In the end, I guess I couldn't be around Karlyn because I liked her too much. Couldn't be around William by default because of that.

But who knows. Each day life rises anew, and even though I told her
	never to talk to me again, it turned out that she was `immature' enough to write me anyway. And then, suddenly, I became mature enough to write back. I'll letchya know.