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The College Years (Chapter 22)
By Vader
THE COLLEGE YEARS
Entry III: Time of Conclusion
Continued from Chapter 21 . . .
CHAPTER 22
Sweat broke out on my brow, the beads of liquid stringing from the top of my head down to my furrowing eyebrows. I let out a grunt, my lips folding as my jaw clenched, my face beginning to heat up. I exerted every last bit of strength in my muscles to push the piling of poundage I was grasping farther and farther upward, my elbows beginning to totter as I tried to distribute the weight evenly on both arms. My will to finish was gradually breaking down as I clamped my eyelids shut, loosing focus. Just when I felt like I wouldn’t be able to make it, something faded into my head, as if just a random memory that decided to reappear – it was Kevin, chasing after Erin.
With a final, hard exhale, I slammed the bar over my head and onto its pedestal, sitting up with a heave, using my towel to blot my face.
“Alright man, you did it! You finally reached four reps of a hundred pounds,” the voice of my spotter declared, marking the results on the sheet of paper he held in his hand. “So looks like you’ll get an “A” on your extra-credit project, eh?” Luke took a seat next to me, offering the form.
“Hope so. The teacher has to like the presentation of your report too,” I shrugged, the recollection of the nightmare at the Winter Party having faded, but leaving a light trail of haze behind it. “Well . . . did you, ah, get to one-fifty?” I half-attentively questioned, shaking my depressing and anger-filled thoughts away for the moment.
“Yup. Got there after all semester,” my friend and classmate gave one of his trademark smirks, the kind he’d made so often in the past several months I’d known him. “Well, this is it, eh? The last day of P.E.”
“Looks like it,” I nodded, giving Luke a pat on the shoulder. “I had a good time hanging out with you, Luke. You were a big help in this class.”
“Yeah, so were you,” he replied, a humorous glare coming to his eye. “I’ll always remember you as the dysfunctional garbage mouth – because whenever you got irritated with me, you spewed garbage, and, oh yeah, you’re friend is a trash can,” he laughed. I immediately understood it was intended as only a joke, but it brought back how I was so unwilling to leave Erin, yet seemingly so unable to stay. Luke caught on to my mentality quickly.
“Hey, I was only ribbin’ ya, dude,” he nudged.
“I know,” I shook my head, closing my eyes. “But you’re right. I’m real screwed up, Luke. I get so mad whenever I even slightly feel like I’ve been pushed around, and I get so saddened so often. It all started at the beginning of the semester and it’s just gotten worse.” I let out a breath, turning to look back at him. “And I’m sorry for having taken it out on you so many times.”
“Don’t worry about it, we’re pals,” he assured me, trying to make the scene lighter.
“I haven’t got many pals left. It’s all my fault too,” I shifted my face into my hands, allowing myself to sink deeper and deeper into enveloping downheartedness.
“Don’t be so upset, dude. You’ve told me about the good friends you have that go to your church,” he did his best to remind me.
“They all hate me . . . and they should, because I abandoned all of them.”
“Then why don’t you go back! Go back tonight, man. It’s your chance to patch things up – I’m sure they don’t really hate you, anyway.” At that, I let out a small cross between a nervous chuckle and a sigh, rubbing the back of my neck.
“I don’t know . . . maybe,” I half-heartedly returned, the thought of facing Rachel again after our falling-out making me feel nearly sick to the stomach. Realizing that I in no way wanted to dwell on the subject, I waved my hand, indicating to never mind. “Anyways, Luke, I should get going. I have to be picked up in a few minutes.”
“Alright, bro,” he said his good-bye, shaking my hand. “Take care of yourself.” At that, I picked up my backpack and my towel, taking my leave, drifting out of the giant room as Luke’s figure grew smaller and smaller, left behind. I stepped into the soggy air outside that reminisced of rainfall, the sharp cold chilling my face. Making my way across the campus to the parking lot, I found myself sitting against the bark of a giant pine tree, watching the students stream by continually, all buzzing around in efforts to hurry in researching and studying for encroaching final period.
It wasn’t long before my lost stare picked up the oncoming familiar vehicle that had picked me up repeatedly in the past, driven by my father. Knowing he would strike up a conversation about my day, I was dreading to even get inside. Yet, I took my things and opened the car door, taking my seat and buckling up. “How’s it going, bud?” Dad asked with a smile.
“Okay,” I shot back in low-toned voice.
“You’ve really convinced me,” he smirked.
“Sorry I can’t do better,” came a sigh in return as I massaged my eyelids, moodiness preventing want for conversation.
“You want to talk about i-”
“No,” I cut him off quickly, regretting I’d done so afterward. My father had a gently surprised, yet hurt look on his face, as he accepted it with a nod, turning back to the road and driving onward. Not another word was spoken between us in the next five awkward minutes, until I was moved to finally apologize. “Sorry. Guess I just don’t feel well today,” I offered, watching him keenly.
“You haven’t felt well for a while, Jack. You never talk to me anymore . . .” he softly said with a gulp. “We always used to talk. I told you that you could come to me whenever you needed advice and I’d understand.” My heart began to go out to him, but it wasn’t enough to divulge the events of the recent months.
“Dad . . . there’s just some things I don’t want to talk about. It’s not because of you,” I assured him, trying to clear up a situation that had become heavy with emotion.
“That’s what your sister said to me just a few months before she left. I still don’t know why she won’t see me anymore.” That statement alone was enough to leave me breathless, putting me out of commission for finding words, shocked as I saw his eyes become watery while he broke down. He’d brought up that one subject that nobody ever brought up, that one incident that was always pretended to be forgotten. I bowed my head, aware for the first time that my experiences throughout the semester hadn’t just affected me, but someone else too. It couldn’t have been more painful for my actions to be compared to what my sister had done – the last thing I wanted to do was remind Dad of such episodes. But I still wouldn’t let anything come out from my sealed, tight lips . . . I wouldn’t let all that I’d bottled up escape.
Instead, I did the only thing I could think of – put my arm around my father. And I left it there all the way home, where I flew into my room and landed in my bed, soaking in sorrow. In the distance I heard voices on the answering machine, as messages from days past were played over again. I heard my good friends: Josh . . . his wife . . . Chris . . . and . . . Rachel. I discerned from their muffled words exactly what they wanted – for me to return to the meetings at the church, from which I had been absent while basking in depression, so they could see me again.
As the blustery clouds blew a breeze through my curtains and onto my tired figure, I remembered words I’d received earlier: “Then why don’t you go back . . . Go back tonight.”
(More to come)
2/13/2003 6:50:46 PM
(Updated: 2/14/2003 1:32:00 AM)
(Updated: 2/14/2003 2:06:30 AM)
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