At first, I thought Victor was a non-student, hanging around, just looking for women. He was never a classmate. Occasionally, he would audit some of my graduate Spanish Literature courses. (I was pursuing my Master's degree). (It seemed to me, that he knew the professors). That's how I met him. Eventually he told me he had a degree in Accounting, and that he was taking the necessary undergraduate courses in Spanish, to gain acceptance into the Master's program.

I had a study partner named Carole. She was an attractive woman, about 30 years old. She was a divorcee who had been married to a Mexican businessman, and had resided in Veracruz for several years. She had met her ex-husband at San Francisco State, when both of them were undergraduate students. After her divorce, she returned to the United States.

From the beginning Carole made it clear, that I would be her study partner, and nothing more. A lot of co-eds wanted to be 'just Friends' with me. A polite form of rejection I was used to. But with Carole I did not feel rejected at all. We had a common goal, because we both wanted to do well in our graduate studies. Besides, we liked each other, and we could discuss any personal problems with each other. We were both teaching assistants, so we both had to prepare lessons and correct written homework. We regularly used a study room at the library. I gathered she wanted to be seen with me, so other guys would leave her alone. She wanted to be left alone; she had other friends already.

I lived with my brother Patrick, who was disabled, and I had to take care of him. We lived in a row house near the university. Carole had an evening class, a 3-hour class, once a week, and I didn't. Sometimes she would come over to our place after that class, bringing pizza or chicken. We would provide the beverages.

Victor also came over to our place, but he became more of a regular visitor, once or twice a week. He really hit it off with my brother. That helped Patrick a lot, because all of his friends disappeared completely when he became disabled.

Victor knew a lot about the private lives of the professors in the Spanish Department, and he visited several of them in their own homes. And he knew something about the lives of students also, including myself. Vic was definitely gossipy, and I wandered if this was his way to avoid talking about himself. In the time I interacted with him, about 2 years, I really learned very little about him. I knew he was from Argentina, but I didn't know from what city; I assumed he was from Buenos Aires. Evidently he came to the United States while the Vietnam war was in progress. He was required to register for the military draft. He said he drunk a liter of coffee prior to his physical examination. He was rejected by the military because of heart palpitations. This the only other personal information he confided to me, besides his college education.

.It took a while before Victor began to ask questions about Carole, maybe because we were seen together so frequently. But he finally did..

"Are you making it with her?"

"No Vic, we just study together, compare notes, discuss what is being discussed in our classes. For the most part, we are taking the same courses. We are in the same program, as you know."

"Does she have a boyfriend, a lover?"

"Before I answer that, let me ask you something. Are you the jealous type, man? Because if you are, Carole in not for you."

"No, I don't think I'm the jealous type at all."

"I was asking you this because I know Carole has a lot of friends, and I don't thing she is interested in permanent or exclusive relationships. Remember she is divorced. Things went sour in her marriage."

He smiled and said, "It doesn't matter how many friends she has. When a woman is with me, she is with me, and not with somebody else."

Later on, towards the end of the semester, Carole dropped by after her evening class. Patrick was already upstairs, in his bedroom, Carole was tired, upset, and not hungry. She just had a glass of wine. I asked her what was wrong, and she said, "I made a big mistake. I had a date with Victor and everything was okay. But I will not go our with him again, something is not right with him. I'm actually scared of him. What is it with this guy? Doesn't he have classes to attend, books to read, papers to write? A part-time job to go to? He is always just hanging around, or so it seems to me."

I said I was wondering about the same thing, but I had no clue as to how he managed his academic plans. I told her what I knew about his academic plans as a graduate student. Carole fell better after venting, and she left, not before saying, "I going to do my best to avoid him."

Victor came over the next day, rather late, around 9:30 PM. Patrick was already upstairs, in his room. He must have been monitoring Carole's movements, because he began to ask questions about Carole's visit on the day before. I will paraphrase our conversation (or interrogation), because he used the F word quite a bit.

"So, Carole came over last night, eh?"

"Yes, she did, after her evening class."

"Did you have sex with her?"

"Nope. We just talk."

"Tell me the truth."

"Okay. A kiss on the cheek when she arrived and another kiss on the cheek when she was leaving. Conversation between kisses."

"That is not the truth. Tell me the truth."

I realized that, even if Victor was not the jealous type as he had told me, he had become obsessed with Carole. The intensity in his eyes, and the persistence of his questions made think I'd better invent a truth that was acceptable to him. I said, "All right, Victor, I surrender. We did it okay?"

"How many times?"

"Just once."

"That is not the truth. I WANT THE TRUTH."

"Alright already. We did it three times."

"Now we are getting somewhere."

He was satisfied with his quest for the truth, and he calmed down. He was quiet for a moment, then he asked if he could go upstairs to see Patrick. I checked with my brother, and he said it was alright. Victor went upstairs, and I stayed in the living room, listening to some soothing music .I could hear Patrick and Victor talking and laughing. Victor came down about 20 minutes. He was smiling and said "See you at school" I said "Alright," but I thought 'I'm sure I will' and 'Thank you Patrick'."

Carole didn't have to work very hard at avoiding Victor. He left her alone. It seems his obsession had to do with his addiction to gossip, with a desire to know about the lives of others. A gossiper has to gather information, doesn't he? Otherwise what is he going to gossip about? This didn't affect me or Carole, because, since we were seen together so often, people assumed we were 'an item.' What Vic would have to say would not be news to others; it would be just a confirmation. This is just conjecture on my part, but I thought something traumatic had happened to him in his native Argentina, and he needed an escape, a way to cope, to deal with an emptiness in his life; and his addiction to gossip was his way to deal with it.

Our coursework was coming to an end. Our final semester, and at the end of it we would have our comprehensive exams. In my case, I had completed all the necessary coursework, but according to university rules I had to keep enrolled; so I decided to take Elementary Italian.I still had classes to teach and homework to correct, so all of this would keep me busy. It goes without saying that we had to prepare for our comprehensive exams. The study partnership was still on.

The Italian class was fun because it was a likable group of students, and we had an excellent instructor by the name of Daria Agostino. Taking this class was a good move, because somehow it helped me deal with the stress of the upcoming comprehensive exams, and I got the chance to meet Ms. Agostino.She was funny, unpretentious, and had a way to make everybody comfortable. All of us liked her. As the semester went along, we learned more about her.

She hailed from Calabria, in Southern Italy. Her parents immigrated to the United States when she was 8 years old, and settled in Redwood City, California. As an undergraduate she majored in Italian, because she wanted to learn more about her country of origin, and now she was in her last semester of her graduate studies in School Counseling. She wanted to work with high school students, but she had become aware that high school jobs for Italian teachers were extremely limited. For that reason she had decided to pursue a degree in Counseling. On the recommendation of her Italian professors, she had been hired to teach a couple of courses each semester. This part-time position helped her finance her graduate studies.

The dreaded final comprehensive exams were finally coming up. Carole, myself, and 8 other students. We took the exam on a Saturday, and it lasted all morning. The following week we learned about our results. Carole and I had passed. I went home to rest, because I was really exhausted; no rest for the weary, the phone rang. It was Victor to inquire about my results I gave him the good news and he congratulated me. I gathered he already knew my results, because in our brief conversation I realized that he knew everybody's results; he knew who had passed and who had failed the examination.

Next step,look for work. Here I was confronted with the same questions many graduate students in the Educational field had to answer

'Do I stay in this beautiful city by the bay, and get whatever job I can get' OR 'Practice my profession somewhere else?'. My choice was to teach. I accepted a position in Arizona. My disabled brother was moving with me.

By this time, Carole, who had been living with her parents, had moved to a small apartment, in a different neighborhood, away from the university. She invited me to her place for a farewell dinner. We promised to stay in touch. As I was leaving, she asked not to reveal her new address to Victor. Sure enough, when Victor came to say goodbye to us, he asked me for Carole's address, and I told him I had promised her not to disclose that information.When I was already in Arizona, Victor wrote to me saying, "Now that you are not in San Francisco, why don't you give me Carole's address?" I wrote back saying I still couldn't do that. And that was the last time I heard from Victor.

In spite of his obsessive behavior, I will always remember Victor as a friend. I feel I learned about him by his actions. The way he connected with my disabled brother was something to see. They would talk, watch television, laugh, and just keep company with each other. They did not have questions for each other, and they were not afraid of silence. I'm just guessing, but maybe their bonding was based on their respective disabilities, a physical disability (Patrick), and an emotional disability (Victor). He was a friend to me by helping me take care of my brother. Also, the three of us had pleasant moments together. I mentioned before that Patrick lost all of his friends when he became disabled, like he had a contagious disease or something. Again, I'm guessing, perhaps Victor suffered some form of abandonment in Argentina. I think Victor was trying to connect with other people, with his questions and his gossiping. With him it was a one-way street, and he did not have clear boundaries. I cannot be judgmental about my lost friend. I thought about how we get to know other people. We ask questions of acquaintances or people we have just met; and with friends we did deeper with our questions; and sometimes we cross boundaries when we ask impertinent questions.

Carole stayed in San Francisco. She found a part-time position at a community college in the East Bay; an easy commute across the bridge. With her salary and her alimony, she had enough income to live on. We kept in touch. After several years, she became a full-time instructor.

It so happened that Ms. Daria Agostino also moved to Arizona, and got a position as school counselor at the same school district that hired me. After a meeting. before classes started. we had a chance to talk. She remembered me from my Italian class.

"Well, David Costello, best student I ever had. So nice to see you. Did you bring that blonde with you?"

"What blonde, Ms. Agostino?"

"You are not my student anymore; we are colleagues, Call me Daria."

"Okay, Daria, what blonde are you taking about?"

"Well, I used to see you at the Student Union cafeteria, most of the time sitting alone, but sometimes accompanied by a 30-something tall blonde, very attractive. Girlfriend? Wife?"

"Magari (I wish)). No, Daria, we used to study and work together, that all. She's still in San Francisco. I belong to the 'I just want to be your friend' club'."

She smiled and said, "You are doing better than me, I belong to the 'not given the time of day club'. So you came alone?"

"Not quite. I brought my brother Patrick with me. He is disabled as a result of a car accident, he was hit by a drunk driver. What about you?"

She sighed with fake resignation and said, "I am all by my lonesome, in the middle of the desert, but about to do the job that I love.'

"What about your parents?"

"Still in Redwood City. They are not planning to move here."

Later on, she said she wanted to meet my brother, so I invited her to come over for dinner. She said she would cook an Italian dinner for us, and told me what kind of wine to get. Over dinner she said, "do you guys have Italian ancestry, I mean you having the surname Costello?"

Patrick answered, "Costello is also an Irish surname. Our grandparents were all Irish."

"Well, you live and learn But I'll tell you, Patrick, I'm going to do my best to 'italianize' both of you."

I am happy to report that Daria and I became very good friends; and we are more than 'just friends.'

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