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The College Years (Chapter 17)
By Vader
THE COLLEGE YEARS
Entry II: A Student Who Loved Me
Continued from Chapter 16 . . .
CHAPTER 17
I awoke the next morning, my eyes slowly opening to stare blankly at the ceiling, just when the alarm on my sound system turned on to play the album inside . . .
Oh mirror in the sky
What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Well, I’ve been afraid of changing
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I’m getting older too
The storm that took place outdoors and the one which happened in my heart had both relatively calmed since last night, but were still hanging in the background, vivid in memory. I wasn’t sure how to feel, exactly, but there was a clear sense of balance between sadness and acceptance of what had happened to me. I had moved into the eye of the tornado – in the center of the brutal event, but having escaped the worst part of it. The wounds had just barely begun to heal, yet I’d been scarred horribly. It was an incredibly odd sensation that I couldn’t have related even if I’d tried.
I prolonged an exhale, blinking, as dawn’s beams of sunshine broke through clouds to enlighten the room, and the birds started to chirp in the trees backyard. I definitely wasn’t in any mood to attend college that day, but knowing there was research to be done for my next essay in the library, I understood there was no choice.
I sat up, noticing my baggy eyes appearing bloodshot in the mirror across the room. Feeling like my psyche had been charred by a raging fire, I forced myself to partake in my normal morning routine of taking a shower, eating a bowl of cereal, and readying my backpack. The image of Rachel’s face was a still frame in my mind, hanging there, permanent and non-removable, lasting through my English class later, where I eventually became aware of Erin’s absence – the only thing with the ability to distract from my state of despondency.
Towards the finale of the class period, I became aware that Instructor Sim had actually brought his surfboard into the room with him, sitting it in the corner. “By the way, in case any of you are wondering why my board’s in here, I didn’t want to leave it in my truck bed and I’m going surfing in Pacific Beach right after class,” he bared his teeth, extending his thumb and pinky above his other fingers to create a gesture of the surfing culture. “The waves are f**king awesome right now,” he exclaimed, switching from his jovial mood into an academic one in a matter of seconds. “Alright, so I hope all of you did your assigned research on ‘From Outside, In’. What did you discover?” Immediately, the hand of the famous Mr. Zig (or shall I say infamous), bolted up.
“I found some interesting material in a collection of reviews on short stories, which was assembled by Richard P. Bates, I believe. He commented on several aspects of why people read, particularly for inspiration, as was done by the main character in the short story we’ve been discussing. One of the books that he referred to as being a source of inspiration for many people is the Bible – which is of course moot, since Jesus is a fairy tale character,” he matter-of-factly stated. Sim broke out in laugher.
“In your opinion.”
“No, it’s actually true. I agree with the Jews in a certain sense that he never came, but I know he’ll never come either, which leads me to a subject which was brought up in a previous week. Hitler was-” Sim put his hand up, halting the string of words constantly zipping from the know-it-all, middle-age man’s mouth.
“Zig, just stop. We don’t have time for this.”
“No, no! The Jews and Hitler were-”
“Zig, class is almost over, we don’t have time!” Sim firmly put, then turning to the rest of us. “I’ll see all of you next week. I expect the papers to be polished and well-presented. Now get out of here.” Everyone laughed and exited, anxious to begin their weekend. Anal-retentive Zig, however, rushed up to Sim to continue his banal argument over religion, war, and politics. I didn’t stick around to see how long it went on for, although I estimate a couple hours.
I passed through the dark, leave-less trees that lined the walkways, my dreams of the previous night tormenting me further, only driving my pain deeper. While my downheartedness continued to immerse me, I found myself entering the study area of the library, trying to get focused on what I’d come for and get down to business. “Psst, Jack!” I detected a whisper to the side. I turned to see the cheerful, scintillating face of the individual who immediately rose my spirits just a bit higher.
“Hi, Erin,” I calmly smiled, walking over to the table she sat at with books spread out around her. “You missed class for some last minute research, huh?”
“Yup, I’ve been having a little trouble finding the material I wanted in the source I’d checked out before, so I figured I should come back and get another one,” the resplendent young woman informed. “Want to have a seat?” she offered. This time, I didn’t have nearly as much difficulty in agreeing to be with her.
“You look tired,” she took note, her luminosity dimming a tad. I nodded, breathing out and rubbing my eyes.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” I admitted sullenly, putting my hands into the pockets of the vest I wore.
“You’re mind was on something?” she asked, ascertaining my melancholia. Closing my eyelids, I breathed, shaking my head.
“Everything’s been going wrong. It has been for months, and its gotten the worst right now,” I confided, reopening my eyes to look upon her caring face. “Seems like meeting you has been the only thing that’s gone right,” I gulped, entirely genuine in my words. She coruscated again, a spark of light in my ominous world.
“Believe me, I feel the same way,” she told, reaching out and grasping my hand. “This past year has been really difficult. Someone I felt really strongly about abandoned me, and . . . I’ve felt like I haven’t had any friends.” Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring their incandescence. “It’s not easy.”
“No . . . it isn’t.” Neither of us moved, having seemingly everything in common, sharing a bond forged in sorrow that in turn drove the sorrow away. I wasn’t sure how much longer we were with each other that day, but there was no denying it now – I wished it would have gone on forever.
(More to come)
1/18/2003 1:15:30 AM
(Updated: 1/18/2003 1:42:10 AM)
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