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The College Years (Chapter 23)
By Vader
THE COLLEGE YEARS
Entry III: Time of Conclusion
Continued from Chapter 22 . . .
CHAPTER 23
The rabid, relentless beating of rain against pavement rang through the streets of my neighborhood, a mysterious fog rolling in from the coast to cloud anything so much as a few feet in front of me. Flashes of light ushered foreboding rumbles, bringing tidings of bad news to the world around them. I stood with a book bag in hand, solemnly staring down the street, my mouth producing large puffs of grey to blend with the haze. The drops of water that pounded my dark blue suit from behind suddenly broke their pattern, as a shadow passed over from behind. “Here’s an umbrella,” my mother offered. I took it from her hand, giving an almost nonexistent nod in return.
I heard the door close to the left of me as our porch light flashed on, my father locking up the house, afterwards turning to approach our black car, turning his key in the door’s keyhole, allowing us to enter. It was an almost iconic scene for our family, going out at night, dressed up like this, but one I hadn’t partook in for such a long time. It was moments like these when I truly realized how much I’d distanced myself from what had been my normal life for so long, evoking a thoughtful and remorseful flicker within.
I watched my father, the man I’d looked up to as a child, the man who’d partly shaped the person I’d come to be, curl his lips tightly, fighting the hidden torment he’d let escape earlier that day. Watching a heart-wrenched man who thought he was losing another part of his family keep his composure as he was just drove my regret, which in turn urged my self-hatred at how much I’d been focused on my personal life to not a give a thought of how I was connected to those in my immediate family, and those I’d adopted into it as my close friends. I scowled, clenching my fists, wanting beat myself.
The car pulled out of our clunky driveway and onto the soggy street, turning to head down the boulevard, the showers pouring from the heavens above splattering all over our windshield. Within minutes, we rounded the corner to see a building from which I’d been absent from since summer, bringing back so many memories at once, it was almost overwhelming. At spotting the figure of a I’d grown up with entering through the double doors, I almost choked, bowing my head, running my fingers through my hair. “God . . .” I whispered, snapping my eyes shut.
“What’s the matter?” Mom asked after detecting my remark with her seemingly uncannily great sense of hearing.
“Nothing,” I quickly covered up, raising my head again, forcing a smile as I gripped my bag, preparing to exit the car as completely silent Dad parked the vehicle in the lot. Upon the opening of our doors, the harsh beating of the rain that had been muffled throughout our ride clamored back to life in my ears. I ed my umbrella, covering myself and stepping out.
My walk to the front doors seemed to happen in slow motion, as I took everything in. Nothing had changed here – there was still the lawn out front, with the perfectly trimmed hedges lining the colorful flowerbeds. The cobbles on the walkway were slippery and shiny due to the downpour, a shivering breeze blowing across its surface, rising up to blow my coat. At last I reached the entrance, taking one last deep breath before coming inside, afraid, excited, and anticipating all at once.
Of course, the second I came in I ran into the brown haired beauty, dressed in black, bumping her arm accidentally, and rolling my eyes at myself for making such a brilliant move. “Sorry,” I apologized, watching her turn around with shock beaming in her eyes. “How are you, Rachel?” I asked, somehow mustering more courage than I had at the barbeque in November.
“Fine,” she answered after a slight pause, no clear sense of emotion detected in her voice. I pursed my lips, gulping.
“Well, it’s good to see you. Been a while, huh?” I spoke off the top of my head.
“A long while.” Awkwardness was thick between us, as it had been between me and seemingly every other individual I was with in the past few days. There was a feeling of urge to stop the stiffness, as if I knew a way to make her forget everything I’d done. Once carefully collecting my thoughts to not make blunders as big as I had before, I returned.
“Uh . . . I just wanted to let you know that, um, even though you might not want to forgive me, I’m sorry about what happened at Josh’s. I was being an idiot . . . as always.” She ed her eyebrow, shaking her head.
“I’ve forgotten about that. And you’re not always an idiot,” she readily admitted, much to my surprise – although it shouldn’t have been, considering how well I knew her. She must have noted the sense of relief on my face, for she quickly added a quip, “But you were that day, for sure.”
“I know. Look, how about we just start over?” I asked intently, turning to head for a seat to find.
“I don’t hold grudges. But I just hope you don’t do something like that again.” She folded her arms across her chest, sincerity in her unwavering voice.
“You know . . . after it happened, I was lying alone for hours, just dwelling on all the mistakes I made . . . and asking myself why I’ve been so stupid,” I looked down at the carpet, scratching my cheek, before I raised my eyes back up to look upon her face. “All of you have been the ones that stuck by me. Especially you – you even made a promise to stick by me through my time at college. But I was the one that abandoned you guys,” I sighed, clenching my teeth, what had once been my resentment toward everyone else now directed at myself. I took a seat, with Rachel standing in front of me, looking down with a questioning gaze. “Even though I’ve been gone, there’s been so many times when I’ve looked back.”
There was a wait, those faint images popping into my head again.
“Do you remember the summer? When it seemed like time was going so fast . . .” I leaked a portion of emotions from a restless soul, no sooner stopping myself, uneasily bottling it up again, not allowing any more talk of nostalgia. “Where’s Josh?” I abruptly asked, noticing her mood edging toward the sullen side.
“He moved out of San Diego,” she whispered. “So did Chris. That’s why we kept trying to call you, so you could see them before they left.” My initial reaction was laughing flippantly, as if she was just playing a prank on me because of my hurting her. But the longer the silence drew on, the sooner I understood that this was no joke. I lowered my eyebrows, glaring at her to confirm my hunch.
“You’re serious?” I questioned the obvious. She nodded gently, and at that, I entered a state of total disbelief – not so much because of the fact he’d moved, but because I’d actually been so ignorant as to stay away when he did so. I shut my eyes, rubbing them, shaking my head. “Jeez . . .” I exhaled, downtrodden. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” I slapped my hands down on the arm rest, continuing to brood. Rachel probably didn’t know exactly what to say, whether to try and encourage me, or to reinforce that I shouldn’t do something like that again.
She didn’t have the time to decide what to say either, for the attendant stood on the platform to announce the beginning of the meeting. She rubbed her hands together, looking at me with pity, plus a shimmer of left-over pain from our previous encounter. Without any more words spoken, the young woman headed back to her seat, leaving me to ponder all that had occurred, my visiting with her cementing the inclinations that had been creeping through my head.
You are such a fool.
You lost some of your best friends.
You’re about to lose another at school, if you don’t make up your mind.
My thoughts were divided between remorse about the past and worry about the future. If I were going to avoid any further disaster in my life, I would have to figure out what direction I was headed in . . . where I was going. But as I sat there, struggling with myself inside - a tormented soul – I was nowhere near that point.
(More to come)
2/23/2003 3:32:13 PM
(Updated: 2/23/2003 4:12:54 PM)
(Updated: 2/26/2003 6:26:54 PM)
(Updated: 2/26/2003 6:27:18 PM)
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