by Marisa Logan
The poor fellow behind the counter looked at my massive selection and said, “Wow. You know if you want, I can just ring up the shelves and counters and you can take the whole store with you.”
I laughed and handed him my credit card, which I had to use to pay until I got the reimbursement from the trust. “Let's just say I want to make sure I don't forget anything.”
“Hey, whatever works, right?” he said, flashing me a cute smile. He started ringing everything up and organizing it all into bags. When he finished he asked, “Do you need help getting this to your car? I can't imagine carrying all of this.”
I looked around at all of the bags. It had taken be quite a few trips through the store to gather it all together, and I wasn't looking forward to hauling it all out to my car. “Yeah, actually, that would be great.”
“Wait here a second,” he said. He went into the back, then returned with a supply cart. He helped me load everything onto it, then pushed it out the door for me while another employee took over at the register.
“Thank you,” I said. “You saved my back a lot of hard work.”
“Happy to help,” he said. “So, you just starting out here?”
“Yup,” I said. “Well, I did a semester at Rowan University years ago, but my credits expired. So I'm starting fresh.”
“Good for you,” he said. “What's your major?”
I winced, always hesitant to answer that question, even though it was the most common question everyone asked you when you were in college. “I don't know yet, really. General education for now, and I'll figure out what I want to do once I've tried a few classes.”
“That works.” He shrugged. “Like half of people change majors partway through college anyway. As if people can be expected to decide at eighteen what they want to do with the rest of their lives.”
I laughed. “How did that old song go? Something about the most interesting people in their forties still don't know.”
“I don't remember that one,” he said.
I winced again, feeling like I'd just betrayed my age. That song had been popular sometime in the late 90s, when I was in middle school. This guy had probably still been in diapers.
“I'm Conner, by the way,” he said when we reached my car. He offered his hand and I shook it.
“Donna. Thanks again for your help. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. I'm glad to help.”
He helped me load the bags into my trunk and my backseat. Then we stood there awkwardly while I wondered if I was supposed to tip him or something. I made my living off tips, so I tried to be generous with others.
“Well, maybe I'll see you around campus,” he said. “And I don't know if you're into any extracurriculars, but if you like poetry, the Lyrical Alliance does readings in the rec center every Thursday.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I might just check that out.” I liked poetry. I was no good at it, but I could enjoy it.
When I got home I had Ari help me unload everything. She was excited that I'd brought her a twelve-pack of grape soda, though she got a grumpy look on her face when I showed her the new clothes.
“Eww, Mom. Blue and yellow?” She held up one of the shirts, frowning at it.
“Those are the school colors. I think everything is blue and yellow.” I dug through the bags. Some were white or gray, but with a blue and yellow logo. There wasn't anything in green, and I knew that was Ari's favorite color.
“And what's this supposed to be?” She held up a pair of sweatpants and showed me the picture on the right leg.
“A bird, I guess. Oh! I think it's a road runner. That's the school mascot.”
“Lame.” She tossed the sweatpants aside and headed for her room.
“Well, deal with it,” I said, tossing an armful of clothes at her. They burst against her back and rained down to the floor. She laughed and squealed, waving her arms to ward off any further attacks.
“Everything's going to be college-themed for awhile,” I said. “This stuff was basically free. So you'd better start loving blue and yellow real quick.”
She rolled her eyes at me, but she gathered up her new clothes and took them to her room. I made a phone call to the lawyer about submitting the receipt for the trust. I was able to scan the receipt and email him a copy, and after I gave him my bank account information, he set up a direct deposit to reimburse me for the purchases. And luckily, he didn't say anything about the extra purchases.
“So,” I said into the phone, “can I buy whatever I need to from the campus, and that's okay?” I hated having to jump through hoops to get access to my own inheritance. But I'd do what I had to do. It would be a few years before I could expect to graduate and access the whole trust.
“Anything within reason,” he said. “Legally, I have final say, as keeper of the trust. But I don't see any reason to be a hardass about it. Just don't send me a receipt with something really frivolous on it, like a widescreen TV, and I think it'll be fine.”
“What about food?” I asked. “Like, from the school cafeteria.”
“Of course that will be fine,” he said. “Your grandmother's will specified that the funds could be used for room and board. Even if you're not living on campus, any food purchased would certainly still qualify.”
“Excellent,” I said. “Thank you.”
I hung up the phone and grinned. The campus had a few different eateries, with everything from salads to pizza to cheesesteaks. Plus there was a little convenience store that sold packaged goods. I wouldn't be able to substitute that for going to the grocery store, but I was determined to eat on campus whenever I could, and bring home as much as I could from the campus stores.
“Hey Ari, get dressed,” I said, calling into my daughter's room. “We're going out for pizza.”
“Really?” She stuck her head out the door. “Awesome.”
She didn't complain when she found out the pizza place was on the college grounds. To a nine year old, pizza was pizza.
Chapter 6
By the time my first day of classes came, I was actually pretty excited about this whole thing. I'd managed to get all of my classes scheduled on Monday and Wednesday, and I'd made arrangements with my boss to have off from work those days.
I got dressed early the Wednesday of my first class, feeling a bit weird that I was starting my week in the middle. But thanks to the Labor Day three day weekend, there had been no classes on Monday.
I shoved my books, notebooks, and other supplies in my brand new backpack, which, like everything else, had the school's logo featured prominently on the back. When Ari pulled on her backpack, I grinned at her and said, “Hey, it's like we're twins.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “Mom, come on.”
“You're supposed to be supporting me. I'm nervous about my first day.”
She adopted a mocking tone and said, “Don't worry, I'm sure you'll make lots of friends and get straight A's!” She rolled her eyes at me and walked out the door.
“Hey, you're taking all the fun out of this parenting thing, I hope you know that.”
I dropped her off at school, then drove off to my first day of college. I ended up getting to class about thirty minutes early, since Ari's school started so much earlier than mine.
I took a seat, then figuring I needed as much of a head start as I could get, I pulled out my textbook and started reading the first chapter. I knew this sort of made me a nerd, but I didn't care. I wouldn't be graduating until I was in my 30s, so I figured I might as well embrace my education and make the most of it.
I'd screwed up college the first time round. Oh, I'd had a good reason and all. I had never regretting putting Ariella first and sacrificing my education and career opportunities for her. But I was determined to get it right this time.
When the other students started arriving, I immediately felt out of place. Sure, I wasn't that old, but twenty-seven feels like forty-seven when you're surrounded by teenagers. A few of the other students looked li
ke they might be in their early twenties, either students who had started late, or those that were taking some classes a bit out of order. But most of them looked fresh out of high school.
The one thing I was grateful for was when I saw a familiar face. “Hey,” I said, waving at the guy I recognized. “You work at the bookstore, don't you?”
The guy who'd helped me carry my stuff out that first day walked over and took a seat next to me. “Hey, funny running into you here. Donna, right?”
I smiled, glad he'd remembered my name. Though I realized I didn't remember his. “Yeah, uhh...”
“Conner.”
“Conner, right. I knew that.” I looked down at my book, feeling a bit awkward. “I have to admit, I'm a bit nervous. This is the first time I've been in a classroom in almost ten years. Unless you count parent-teacher conferences.”
“Oh, you're a mom?”
I nodded, wondering how many other mothers were in the class with me. Unless there were other women here who'd gotten knocked up in high school like I had, I was betting there weren't any. “I have a daughter. She's nine, going on fifteen.”
He laughed. “Wow, you don't look old enough to have a kid that old. I mean...crap, I'm sorry. That didn't come out right.”
“No, you're fine,” I said. “I should take it as a compliment.”
The teacher ended up being almost ten minutes late, but Conner told me that was pretty typical with some of the professors here.
The first class ended up being nothing special. It was a history class, and after going over the syllabus and discussing the types of papers we'd be writing this semester, the professor started on a lesson that didn't seem any more complex than what I remembered from high school.
I was grateful for the easy start, though I was a bit daunted by the idea that I had to write an eight page paper later in the semester. I hadn't written anything longer than an email in years.
When we were packing up our stuff at the end of class, Conner asked me, “So, what other classes are you taking?”
“Well, I've actually got like an hour and a half off before my next class.” I dug through one of my folders until I found my class schedule. “Then I've got Comp 101 at 12:15, and Math for Stupid People at 2:00.”
“Math for Stupid People?” He gave me a quizzical smile.
“Well, I asked my adviser for the easiest, most basic math course I could take to meet gen ed requirements. I'm not a math person.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Math is easy. Most people just teach it wrong.”
“Yeah, easy for you to say.”
“So, if you're off for a little bit,” he said, “want to go grab some early lunch?”
I checked the time on my phone. I hadn't had time for much of a breakfast, and I would definitely need to eat something before my next two classes, since they were back to back. “Sure. Sounds good.”
We headed to the cafeteria and I loaded up my tray with way more food than I could actually eat. Most of it was stuff I knew I could take home later: miniature bags of chips and pretzels, lunch-sized cups of applesauce, granola bars, and snack packs of peanut butter cracker sandwiches. I added a salad and a sandwich to eat for lunch, and grabbed several bottles of soda.
“Wow,” Conner said. “Hungry?”
I laughed and blushed, handing the cashier my card. “Stocking up on stuff to take home later. It's a long story.”
“Ahh, gotcha. I know some people that do that when they're on a meal plan paid for by their parents. Stock up on whatever you can while the parents are paying for it so you can save your cash for other stuff.”
“Well, my parents aren't paying, but that's the basic idea.”
We found a table near the windows. I dug into my salad, hungrier than I'd thought I was. Conner and I made small talk for a bit about classes, our jobs, and that sort of thing. Though, inevitably, the conversation eventually made its way around to awkward subjects that I didn't know how to explain.
“So,” he asked, “what made you decide to come back to college? I mean, most of the people I know come here right out of high school.”
I decided not to go into the whole complicated story about Grandma's will, I gave him the abridged version. “My Grandma died last spring. She left me some money to use for college. So I decided it was time to go back.”
“Oh, that's great. I mean, not about your Grandma.” His face turned pink and he looked down at his burrito. “That's sad. But I mean, it's great that you can go back.”
“Yeah. And I'm looking forward to not being a waitress anymore. In four more years, anyway.”
“Tell me about it. I was a pizza guy for awhile, before I got the job at the bookstore. I'm hoping I can transfer to the Barnes & Noble on the four-year campus next fall, after I finish here. They give me a tuition discount for working there, which is great.”
“Working at a book store sounds much better than a crappy restaurant. It's cleaner, if nothing else.”
“Yeah.” He smirked at me. “Except every now and then when someone buys half the store and needs help carrying it all.”
I laughed and covered my mouth with my hand. “I'm so sorry about that. I know I'm a pain.”
“Nah, it's okay. Besides, it would be rude of me to make a lady carry all of that stuff by herself.”
I paused with a forkful of salad halfway to my mouth, trying to decide whether that was a compliment, treating me like a proper lady, or an insult, implying that I was an old lady. I opted on the former. “Well, thank you.”
We talked until it was time for me to head to my next class, then Conner walked me to class. Before we parted company he said, “I'll see you on Monday. Oh, and, hey. Don't forget the Lyrical Alliance meets on Thursday. If you're interested.”
I was interested, even though I worried I'd be the weird old lady that didn't fit in. Even if twenty-seven wasn't that old. “What time does it meet?”
“6:00.”
I frowned, thinking about what time I would get off work that day, and whether I'd have time to pick Ari up and get to the campus on time. And I knew she wouldn't be the least bit interested in poetry, so I'd probably have to drop her off at my dad's house before I went. “Depends on my schedule,” I said. “But I'd like to. We'll see.”
“All right. Hope you can make it.”
He gave me a wave and headed off to his own class. I walked in and found a seat for my Comp 101 class. I was the first one there, again. I couldn't decide if that made me a dork, or the loser who didn't have any friends on campus.
Well, I figured I had one friend. Sort of. That was something, at least.
Chapter 7
As it turned out, I never made it to the poetry reading that Thursday. I ended up with several homework assignments on my first day of class, which seemed really unfair. I had to read several chapters in three different books, and I had to write a short practice paper for my Comp class over the weekend.
Between work, keeping up with chores around the house, and running Ari back and forth to her art classes after school, I barely had time to get it all done. When I saw him the next Monday, Conner seemed disappointed, but understanding.
That was how it went through most of the rest of my first semester. I was doing pretty well in my classes, but I had almost no free time left. I came to look forward to my short break between History class and Comp class, since that hour and a half was one of the only times I had to myself. Conner and I frequently had lunch on those days, and I started looking forward to the time with him as well.
Near the end of the semester, I finally got some relief when there was a school holiday. As a result of the day off, when Thursday rolled around, I had nothing to do except drop Ari off at her art class, then I had a few hours of free time. I decided it was finally time to stop by and see what the Lyrical Alliance was all about.
When I walked into the rec center, there were a couple dozen students there. A couple of them were setting up a microphone at one end of the room, whi
le the others mingled. I looked around, but didn't see anyone I recognized, until Conner crossed the room, waving to me.
“Hey! You made it. I've been hoping you would.”
I gave him a hug. “Yeah, well, I've been wanting to check it out for awhile now. I just never have any time.”
“Well, I'm glad you're here. Do you have any poetry to read?”
I waved my hands in denial. “Oh, no, no, no. I'm not a poet. I'm just here to listen.”
“Well, that's fine, too. Find a seat, we're about to start.”
I found a seat near the front and listened as one student after another stepped up to the mic to share their poetry. There was a variety of styles, and it seemed like the group was open to just about anything. One girl delivered a hip, dramatic poem about her relationship with her father. Another girl read a light, flowery poem about the first time she kissed a girl and discovered a new side to her sexuality. And one man read a dark, eerie poem that made me wonder whether he was potentially suicidal.
Finally, Conner stepped up to the microphone. He cleared his throat, holding up a piece of paper to read from. “This is something I've been working on for awhile now. It's still sort of a work in progress. But it's...” He hesitated, lowering his eyes. “It's from a personal place.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Then he started to read.
“You told me you wanted a man who could be sensitive. A man who knew his own heart. And I thought you'd be careful with that heart.”
He closed his eyes again, trembling slightly. “But then there was the day I showed you my heart, showed you my tears. And found out what you really wanted with my heart. You wanted a man who would love you, care for you, and show you his affection. You wanted a man who would give you his heart. But you didn't want me to know my own heart. You desired my love, but rejected my tears. You desired my affection, but rejected my pain. You desired my support, but wouldn't support me in return.”
He rubbed a hand over his eyes, and I wondered if he was holding back tears.
