Chapter 13

"It is important not to confuse our expectations with our goals and objectives." Professor Dingman never asked about the phone call. He didn't treat her any differently. Certainly, the marks on the papers she handed in didn't show any preferential treatment. Whatever else she had to do, Marilyn needed this credit to continue her education. The other two courses were simple. Professor Dingman demanded they think. Tuni would love this course.

"Our expectations are what we project out into the world in order to make sense of it. If we tried to exist with no expectations at all we'd be overwhelmed as we constantly needed to remake decisions we'd made the day before. Imagine if you had to decide each day which of the many assorted varieties of coffee you would drink because you never knew what you wanted."

"Sounds like Cameron," someone called from the back. Cameron grinned and shrugged.

"Guilty as charged, though I should state I have an objective of trying each kind by the end of the term."

"And what of your expectations?" the professor asked.

"Meh," Cameron said, "some are good and some not so good."

"So your expectation is you will enjoy each variety equally."

"I guess so."

"What if you had stated an objective of liking each kind of coffee by the end of the term?"

"But I can't predict what I'll like and what I won't."

"Exactly." The professor beamed at Cameron as if he'd said something brilliant. Cameron looked confused.

"Expectations are necessary," the professor said, "but they are inevitable doomed to failure. We can't control the things necessary to fulfill our expectations."

"So if I expect people to treat me with respect regardless of my skin colour, it won't happen?" Cameron asked.

"Not all the time, eventually you will meet up with an incorrigible racist, or a good person on a bad day. This is why is it important to be aware of our expectations and keep them separate from our objectives."

"So I could have an objective to reduce racism through community awareness, but be wary of my expectation of being treated with respect."

"Correct again," Professor Dingman said.

"So, if we are paying attention to our expectations, we won't use them to wrongly evaluate the effectiveness of our objectives?" Anna asked.

"The Cafe must be putting out a high grade of caffeine today." The professor grinned. "But all good things must come to an end. Class is dismissed, may I remind you, I expect the next paper to be in on Monday? Midterms begin soon, if you have any questions check my office hours on the syllabus. It is easier to solve your problems before they become poor grades."

Marilyn didn't have time to linger over coffee with Anna and Birungi. Bo expected her to be at the bar soon for another session of brow beating. She tapped her fingers on her legs as she walked, trying to get the riff Bo taught her into her head. No, into her hands, he kept telling her to play with her hands so she could think about the music instead of worrying about the drums.

"Hi Crysta." Marilyn waved as she entered. "Is Uncle Bo up?"

Crysta shook her head and played on her guitar. Marilyn sat at the drums and starting playing. The rhythm was wrong for what Crysta was doing and she stuck her tongue out at Marilyn. Marilyn adjusted her playing until Crysta laughed and danced around the stage.

"That's enough, Crysta," Cher poked her head through the door. "Time to get you to Sarah's."

Crysta put the tiny guitar down and ran out the door with her mom.

"You almost sounded good," Bo came out of the room where he lived. Marilyn never saw inside of it and had no desire to.

"What's her problem?" Marilyn asked.

"Crysta's four. Her fingers don't move so fast yet."

"No, I mean Cher."

"Oh, what did you expect after walking in here, singing better than she dreamed of, and being a walking, talking fascination for her husband? She used to be the one Mack asked to fill gaps in when the karaoke got slow. Now it's all you babe."

"I thought she liked me."

"Where did you get that idea? Mack likes you. He probably wishes he'd stuck around for the big transformation. For Cher, you're competition, and probably trouble. Her dad was in the business. She knows the pain he put her mother through. I was the cause of half of it, but Cher tolerates me because I'm not going to run off with her man. He's not my type. You aren't either, but give me a call when you get your new plumbing and I'll test drive it for you.'

"Fuck you."

"That's the general idea" Bo leered at her. "Now let's hear that riff."

Marilyn wanted to walk out, but she needed the job and she needed Mack. It wasn't that she wanted to sleep with him, but he gave her a constant quiet reassurance she craved like a drug. When she was around him, she had no doubt in her abilities.