by Marisa Logan
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 like 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, while 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.
“And now I know why you wanted my heart. Not for me to know myself, but for what my heart could give to you. And I gave you all that my heart could give. But I kept my tears for myself.”
He lowered the sheet of paper, and the audience clapped. I clapped along with them, feeling a tightness in my chest. I wondered who he could have been talking about. In the time we had known each other, he had never mentioned a girlfriend. I could only imagine what she'd done to him, how much she'd hurt his heart.
I tried to imagine my ex, Ari's father, showing me his tears. In the time we'd been together, I had never seen him cry. I couldn't imagine rejecting him for his tears. I couldn't understand how anyone could do that to someone they cared about.
He came over and sat down next to me while the next poet stepped up to the mic. I wanted to say something to him, but I didn't know what to say. He didn't look at me. His eyes were unfocused and he stared into his lap.
I reached over and put a hand on his knee. He glanced at me, forcing a small smile. I smiled back, wishing I knew some way to comfort him. I decided all I could do was sit there with him, offering him my silent presence.
I think it meant something to him. He put his hand over mine, and we sat there through the rest of the poetry readings, silently taking comfort in each other's company.
Chapter 8
I managed to make it to a few more of the poetry sessions throughout the rest of the semester. Sometimes Conner read a poem, sometimes he just sat with me in the audience and listened.
I got to know a few of the other poets, and they all encouraged me to start working on some poetry of my own. I didn't think I was any good, and there was no way in hell that I was going to stand up in front of the crowd and read something aloud, but I started finding that it was a good outlet for my feelings.
I kept a little notebook in my backpack and scrawled poems in it when I had breaks between classes, or when I was bored in History class and not paying attention.
I was relieved when winter break started. I was doing well enough in my classes, but it was nice to have a few weeks off. Ari and I ended up having one of the best Christmases we'd had in awhile. With all the money I was saving on food by getting so much from school, I was able to put a little away each week throughout the semester.
I was able to spoil my kid for the first time ever, both on her birthday in early December and on Christmas. And in a very big surprise, a package arrived for Ari from my brother Jimmy, with a collection of new games for her XBox. I guessed that now that he had his share of the money, he'd decided he could spoil her a bit, even though he hadn't sent her anything for the past few Christmases.
Though I did notice that the handwriting on the card wasn't his. His wife must have been the one who convinced him to send something.
I sent them a card in return, though I felt a bit like an ass for not sending one until after their gift arrived, and knowing it wouldn't get to them until after Christmas. I left a postscript at the bottom of the card asking Casey to keep me up to date on when her baby was due, which I knew was any time now.
A few weeks after the new year, I got a letter from her with pictures of the new baby, who they had named Jayna. And at the end of the letter she even said she hoped we could get together soon so I could meet my niece, though she did add “I'll just have to check Jimmy's schedule and find out when it will be good for him.”
I read over the letter again, trying to read between the lines. I was pretty sure “I'll just have to check Jimmy's schedule” was code for “I'll have to see if Jimmy wants to see you.”
I wrote her back, telling her how beautiful her daughter was and how excited I was for her and for Jimmy. And I told her I was looking forward to seeing them all, and how glad I was for the chance to get to know her. I was sure that she was reaching out to me of her own accord, trying to bridge the gap that Jimmy and I had never been able to repair on our own. It gave me hope for the future. I just hoped I wouldn't end up missing out on my niece's life because of the bad history between my brother and me.
***
I went into the spring semester with a newly encouraged attitude and the feeling that I was finally making progress in my life.
Ari managed to convince me that ten years old was old enough that she could be home by herself after school, and while I was nervous about the idea, I realized that it would free up my schedule even more since I wouldn't have to worry about driving down to the daycare to pick her up after school.
I was paranoid the first few times that she took the bus straight home after school, and I made her call me to let me know that she'd gotten home safely, and I reminded her to make sure she'd locked the door. After the third day she refused to call me and just texted instead. By the second week I was calm en
ough that I didn't even freak out when she forgot to text.
A couple of weeks into the new semester, however, I started having some trouble with my classes. Mostly with my chemistry class, which I'd chosen for my one science elective because I thought it would be interesting. By the time I realized how much math was involved in chemistry, it was too late to change classes and find something easier.
I brought up my concerns to Conner when midterms were approaching. We didn't have any classes together this semester, but we still saw each other at the Lyrical Alliance gatherings, whenever I could make it.
“I don't know how I'm going to handle this test,” I said. We were chatting over tea while we waited for the poetry readings to start one Thursday.
“I'm seriously not understanding this stuff. I don't know what I'm going to do.” I was really worried about failing the class, not because of the effect it would have on my GPA, but because of how it might delay my graduation.
I'd planned out how to manage my class schedule, including summer courses, to make sure I'd have enough credits to graduate on time. But having to repeat a class would either mean taking more than three classes in one of my future semesters, which I didn't think I'd be able to keep up with, or else taking an extra semester at the end. I might be able to handle one extra semester, but I couldn't afford a whole extra year of classes without risking the possibility of pushing Grandma's deadline to its limit.
Maybe I was being too paranoid. After all, it was just one class. But I was still in my freshman year. What if I failed another class next year? Or the year after that? I could be screwed out of my entire inheritance just because I wasn't good enough at math to keep up with things.
“Do you need some help studying?” Conner asked.
“Are you good at chemistry?”
“Hell yeah.” He grinned at me. “I'm actually thinking about taking a science major when I finish at the community college and transfer to a four-year school. Maybe astronomy. I don't know. But I can definitely help you with the math.”
