I sat on the bare bed, staring glumly at the floor, trying to fight the feeling of depression slithering in as I realized what I’d gotten myself into. I did not belong here. I could hear laughter seeping in underneath the door, and it made me anxious. I hated the hideous chandelier I’d walked under and the huge arch and the perfectly groomed lawn and hedges. This place was everything I was not. I was just a little country boy far away from home, even more alone now than I’d imagined. I lay down on the bed, wallowing in my misery as I stared at the blank ceiling. If I could have, I would have walked out of that pompous castle right then, but I couldn’t go home. On top of that, I reminded myself how Dr. Emory had vouched for me, and I couldn’t disappoint him. I had to prove that I belonged.
I have found that misery and spare time are not good bedfellows. They tend to bring out the worst in people, especially myself. The longer I lay there, the more depressed I became. I was in such a state of mind when I first met my roommate, Charles Montgomery. Charles burst into the room as if a pack of wild dogs were chasing him. No sooner had he slammed the door closed and bolted the lock than a thunderous pounding began. “Charles, let us in, you scoundrel! We know what you’ve got in there!” shouted a voice from the other side of the door.
Charles leaned against the door with a straw hat clutched in his hand. Between gasps of air, he retorted smartly, “Not a chance, gentlemen.” He suddenly realized that I was there and gave me a big wink. “I can’t let you in on account of my new roommate is taking a nap and I don’t want to disturb him. So if you would … please stop attempting to break down the door, and let the poor man rest. He looks like an absolute wreck.”
“A likely excuse, Charles. I know how you are,” retorted the voice. “You would say anything to get your way. You have no scruples.”
At this, Charles made a face as if to agree with the observation, but he did not seem bothered by this attack on his character. “I wouldn’t do anything that you yourself wouldn’t. Be off now, before my father gets here and sees you.”
There was a moment of silence as the pounder pondered the validity of the threat. “I see how it is. Call for daddy to bail you out,” the voice jeered. “Next time I see you, I’d better get a chance to win back my losses without you conveniently cutting out.”
“Sure, sure, you old boar. Just be sure to bring more money with you. I’d hate to take the clothes off your back as well.”
There was one final pound on the door, and I could hear angry footsteps stomping off.
Charles then looked at me and grinned. “You just have to love old friends who also happen to be sore losers. I apologize for all the commotion.” He walked over, stuck out his hand, and said, “Charles Montgomery, pleased to meet you.”
I sized him up. He was about six feet tall and wore pressed pants and a knit white sweater vest. He had a mischievous face with grayish blue eyes and thick, tousled blond hair—a rather handsome fellow, all in all. His most striking feature was his smile, which stretched from ear to ear much like that of a Cheshire cat trying to conceal a most delicious secret. I met his over-zealous hand with mine. “It’s a pleasure. My name is Tom.”
“Splendid. I was quite curious to see who my roommate would be. So … you best just tell me about yourself right off the bat. I’ll have it out of you one way or another.”
I was not exactly sure what to make of Charles. It seemed as if there was just too much life squeezed into him, and he did not know how to control it. He began to pace back and forth, waiting for me to reply while he fidgeted with his hands. “All right then. No need to be shy. I tell you what. I’ll start us off to make things easier.” Before a rebuttal was possible, he carried on. “Charles Montgomery, but of course I already said that. Anyway, I’ve never been very good at this sort of thing. I always tend to babble on far too long, so feel free to cut me off or butt in if I leave out anything important. I have two older brothers, and both graduated from Locklear at the top of their class. Rather big shoes to fill, wouldn’t you say? I rather gave up on all of that business a long time ago. In all honesty, the only reason I’m here is because my father happens to be on the board and our family members have been attending here for multiple generations now. I didn’t want to break the cycle. I’d have broken my father’s heart. As far as he’s concerned, Locklear University is heaven on earth. Seeing as I’ve been here on campus just short of a thousand times while growing up, I feel I can speak as a bit of an expert, and I can’t say I’m quite so fond of it. But it’s not half bad, really.”
He stopped mid-pace and swiveled to face me. “Now look, there I’ve gone off the path already. Let’s get back to business. My father is a lawyer, as are my two brothers, so you can imagine what I’m expected to study. I don’t give a rip about law, though. Of course, I have never said those words out loud at home, but there isn’t much room to blaze your own trail when your life’s already been mapped out for you. I don’t mean to come across as ungrateful or make it sound like my life is completely miserable or anything. I manage to find ways to keep things interesting.” With that, he broke into his slippery smile again.
I could only imagine all the things he’d come up with. He was a jokester if ever I’d met one. I expected him to pull a toad out of his pocket at any moment or whip a rabbit out of his straw hat, but instead, he continued. “Well. Not much more to say, really. My mother stays at home and looks after the house. She’s very pleasant. Not nearly as overbearing and demanding as my father. I’m expecting them to return any time now from their visit with some old friends who are also dropping a son off today.”
Charles didn’t seem to notice how barren my side of the room looked compared to his. He was obviously not the kind of fellow who cared about that sort of thing, for which I was grateful. I had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason his half looked as nice as it did was because of his mother. That made me sad. I wondered what Mother would have said if she’d been there to see me go to university. I have no doubt we would have gone out and purchased a completely new wardrobe and plenty of other odd items she would have deemed necessary. My side clearly lacked a feminine touch.
When I lay back down and closed my eyes, I soon sensed something hovering over me and looked up to see Charles staring at me. “Well,” he said, “you don’t think I’m going to let you just lie there and sleep the day away without telling me about yourself. That’s bad form. I just bared my soul, and you respond by taking a nap. If I were a more honorable man, I would take offense that.”
I stared back at him, unsure what to do. I really had no desire to share my life with him, but I realized that he would indeed get it out of me one way or another. “Okay, I’m not much of a talker. I’ll just let you know that right off the bat. I come from Greenwood. It’s a little farming town just a few hours from here. Nobody in my family has ever gone to school here—or anywhere else for that matter. I don’t have any brothers or sisters. It’s just my father and me. He owns a little shop. That’s it. There’s nothing very special.”
“What about your mother?” He had no tact; he just spouted out whatever came to his mind.
I stated very clearly, while staring directly at him, “My mother passed away a number of years ago, and that’s all I intend to say on the matter. I’m finished with your little interrogation.”
Charles was taken aback by my response. I could see that he wasn’t entirely sure what to say, which seemed like a rather unnatural state for him. “I’m very sorry, Tom. I didn’t mean to overstep my bounds. I do have a tendency to get myself into trouble with my big trap. Please don’t take offense. I wasn’t trying to pry. I won’t bring it up again—Scout’s honor.”
I could tell he was genuinely sorry, but I really didn’t want to talk anymore. It was easier to sit with my old friend misery. I closed my eyes and tried to block him out. I could hear Charles tinkering around the room for a little while, until he obviously grew bored and decided to make his escape from the awkward silence.
Som
etime later, I heard Charles’ voice making its way down the hall toward our room. He opened the door more softly this time, and his parents followed him in. It was obvious that Charles took after his father. They were nearly the same height and shared the same color eyes, but Charles’ father had about him an air of coolness, and his gaze was sharp, as if he were taking in everything around him and filing it away. Just sitting there, I felt like I was undergoing an inspection. Charles’ mother was quite the opposite; she was a robust woman with a pretty face. I imagined that she was probably a real beauty back in her time, but the years had stolen her slim, youthful figure, leaving rather plump dimensions in its place. Her eyes were gentle and caring, the sort of eyes that only a mother can have.
I turned in my chair to face the trio. Charles jumped in to make introductions. “Mother and Father, this is Tom, my new roommate.” Charles looked at me, motioning for me to stand up and greet them properly.
I stood and uncomfortably stuck out my hand. “Pleased to meet you,” I mumbled quietly.
Mr. Montgomery stepped forward and met me with a firm handshake, as if attempting to show me how such things were done. “You may call me Mr. Montgomery. Do you have any more things coming, lad? I must say that you seem to be lacking some of the essentials for general living.”
“No, sir,” I said, turning bright red and hanging my head. “This is all I have. I’m hoping to find some work and purchase whatever else I might need.”
He stared at me knowingly, as if he’d seen my kind before. “Well, I’d recommend you go talk to the dean and see what he can do about finding you some work. I’m sure there are plenty of bushes to be trimmed and weeds to be pulled, as long as you find the time along with your studies. Charles told me that you are from Greenwood. Charity may have you gotten you here, but you will soon learn that the professors do not give handouts to those who cannot perform adequately.”
His condescending tone was sickening. He had no right to speak to me in such a manor. My shame turned to anger, and I met his gaze, refusing to back down. “Thank you for your advice, sir.” I made sure to over-emphasize the “sir.” “While Greenwood may be second class according to your standards, I have no doubt you will find that I am well prepared for Locklear. I fully intend to hold my own against the rest of my classmates, including your son.”
He glared back at me, and his lips curled upward in a slight smirk. “All will be revealed in good time. It’s a shame books are so expensive these days. I can’t imagine succeeding without them.” He turned to his wife. “My dear, I believe it is time for us to be going. Charles is all settled in, and we have things to attend to.” He shook hands with Charles and then strolled out the door.
I looked at Charles, who looked back at me with a mortified look. “You should not have spoken to my father in that manner—”
“He insulted me. What did you expect me do?”
“I don’t think you understand,” Charles tried to explain. “Papa was not in favor of me having a mystery roommate. He was afraid that I would be placed with someone highly unsuitable for a person ‘of my upbringing.’ Your little discourse only solidified his fears. Father is not the sort of man you want as an enemy. He may go out of his way to see that you fail just because he can. He is ruthless.”
“Well, what’s done is done, so let’s not worry about it,” I concluded. “It will bring me great pleasure to prove your father wrong. To that end, I will work tirelessly. Now let’s move on to something else. Where the heck can you get a bite to eat in this place? I’m famished.”
Charles perked up at this. “Splendid idea. I’ll show you the way at once now that the parents are gone and we are at last free men.” He slipped into a blazer, and we headed out. He had already forgotten about the earlier unpleasantness and began to blab on about the importance of dining attire: “It is always best to dine in a blazer …”
I tuned him out as we walked. The spread of food was unbelievable. After years of scrounging on my own for food or eating cold leftovers, my miserable mood melted away slightly as I filled my plate with heaping portions of potatoes and chicken and gravy. I had only ever experienced such a feast in my books. It seems there was indeed a benefit of living amongst the rich for a change.
Charles and I squeezed onto the end of a long table of other boys in blue blazers and ties, all looking especially dapper for the occasion. Apparently, I was the only one who had not received the dress code memo. Many of the boys were old acquaintances of Charles from school and other social events. It seems that Locklear had quite a reputation among the upwardly mobile. I shoveled food into my mouth ravenously as I watched and listened.
It did not take long to distinguish a definite pecking order among the boys. Nothing was said, of course, but it was all easily inferred through eye contact, tone of voice, and the other usual social cues. From what I could tell, Charles was somewhere in the middle of the pecking order and was clearly known as a bit of a scoundrel—not in the negative sense, but because of his nose for mischief. The conversation at the tables was centered primarily on induction into the different campus societies. There was a special buzz about secret societies. Apparently, as legend had it, the original three societies at Locklear were formed illegally, and thus their members were unknown. Only upon graduation would students reveal their membership in one of these groups, having by that time passed their place on to worthy, handpicked underclassmen. It was the utmost honor to be chosen for induction into one of these three societies that were well known to cause mischief and mayhem all over campus, much to the frustration of the faculty and especially the dean of students.
I thought the idea of formal societies to be rather unappealing, but secret societies, on the other hand, greatly intrigued me. I was very interested in becoming a member of a secret club, but I realized that I would never be chosen because of my low social status and my anonymity among the incoming students. Nonetheless, I made up my mind to talk to Dr. Emory about the secret societies the following day when we were scheduled to have lunch.
After a full second helping, I slipped away to explore the campus. The place reeked of the things money could buy. Not a stone or stick was out of place. I was especially fond of the ivy growing up the sides of the buildings because it made me feel as if I’d somehow stepped back in time. Most of the buildings were open, so I walked down their long marble corridors and peered into their giant lecture halls with oak desks and gritty green chalkboards. Beyond the buildings, there were a number of athletic fields and then a large lake with canoes and plenty of crew boats. Locklear was famous for its fantastic crew teams; many of them had won national titles. Thick woods stretched beyond the lake, up the side of the next hill, and off into the distance. It was a beautiful sight I came upon as I watched the sun dip and set the lake ablaze with fiery reds and oranges. I felt a glimmer of that old childish joy that used to overtake me whenever I encountered such beauty. It stirred deep within me—and then went back to sleep again. I sat quietly on the hillside with my back against a stone wall, just watching and listening.
CHAPTER 8
Adjustments
I SLAMMED THE ALARM CLOCK as it clanged in my ear. It was Sunday morning, and all students were required to attend the eight o’clock Locklear service. I heard Charles groan, much to my satisfaction. I felt no pity for him. He’d rolled into the room around three, looking rather disheveled before collapsing to sleep on his bed. From the smell of him, I figured he’d been making love to some whiskey. I hopped into the shower, got dressed, and was ready to leave, and still Charles lay there unmoving. “Charles,” I whispered. “You better get up or you’ll miss the morning service.”
He rolled over. “Oh, bug off. There’s no way I’m going to church. Just leave me alone.”
“Whatever you say, but don’t blame me if you get in trouble,” I taunted as I tiptoed out to his groaning.
I arrived a few minutes before the service, which apparently was not a popular thing to do. The place was nearly
empty. The chapel was as breathtaking inside as it was from the exterior. The huge stained glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, depicting all sorts of biblical scenes in vivid color, while giant pillars seemed to rise into the heavens, exploding into flying buttresses. On the far front wall hung a brilliant golden cross illuminated softly by rows of white candles. Upon entering, I immediately felt a sense of awe. The cool darkness seemed to calm my nerves, making me assume a posture of silence and reverence. This was not a place for running or yelling. It was a sacred space set apart in some strange way from the ordinary and the mundane. I do not know if this sense arose because I knew beforehand that this was a chapel, or if it was a natural response to the otherness of the space. At any rate, I was astutely reminded of my smallness in comparison to the greatness of the God for whom this house had been built. I had never entered into something so grand in all my life.
This place evoked in me a strikingly different response than the simple, crowded church where I had grown up. It was as if this was a monument to a different God, a greater God. This God seemed distant and unapproachable, while the God of my youth was small and unable to help me in my hour of need.
Somewhere far above, bells began to toll the eight o’clock hour, and with that, students began to stream in through the doors without the slightest awareness of the beauty surrounding them. They slumped into the pews, looking bored and trapped, and their indifferent presence defiled the sacredness of that space. Their breathing and shifting shattered the silence.
Just as the pastor (or so I assumed him to be) stood up, I saw Charles slink through the door. He looked like a train wreck. He stood in the back for a few seconds, scanning the pews before spotting me and slipping in beside me. He promptly put his head on the pew in front of him and went to sleep—he, the pious disciple, with head bowed in sincere prayer and confession before the Almighty God. I left him to his petitions.
Finding Tom Page 5
