Why do these girls insist on having this conversation right outside my door? Do they not understand that people are trying to sleep?
The one girl raises her voice. “Don’t be such a bitch. Your mom will buy you new ones. Plus, you’ve got more shoes than you could ever wear.”
“Forget it. You’re not borrowing them. I have to grab my purse. I’ll be right back.”
I hear loud footsteps stomping down the hall, stopping abruptly at my door. “Hey, babe. Get that hot ass in the truck. We’re leaving.”
I assume it’s the hot ass’ boyfriend. She giggles like a little girl as something smashes into my door. I hope to God they’re not pressed up against my door making out, but it kind of sounds like that’s exactly what’s happening. After a few minutes, I hear them finally leave.
It’s quieter now, but I can’t sleep knowing that I’m stuck here for the next four years. I’m not sure how I’ll survive given that I’ve barely been at Moorhurst three hours and I already hate it. Just a few weeks ago, the thought of going far away to college sounded like the perfect plan. I’d get away from all the crap of my old life and start fresh. But now I feel lost and alone. I guess this is why so many people drop out of college after the first or second week.
You wanna give up? Then give up! You’ll end up just like me! Is that what you want? You wanna end up like me? I hear my mom’s voice in my head again. Those were the words she said when I was crying on the first day of kindergarten. She repeated those words every time I cried or showed the slightest sign of weakness. At least I can give her credit for that. Those words stuck with me all these years. They’re the words I Iive by. Because I don’t want to end up like her. I can’t let it happen. I won’t let it happen.
I will not give up. I will not drop out and go running home. I’m strong. I can do anything. I repeat the phrases over and over again until I finally fall asleep.
Ryan arrives at 8 a.m. sharp. I’ve been up since 6 when the morning sun started filtering through the useless curtains on my window. I watched the minutes on the clock tick slowly by waiting for Ryan’s familiar face to show up. I’m dying to see a familiar face.
“I’m ready. Let’s go.” I push past him and shut the door, locking it. I just want out of that room and out of that dorm. “Where do you want to go? Did you see any restaurants on your way here?”
He grabs my arm. “What’s with the crazy rush? Are you trying to hurry and eat so you can get rid of me?”
His statement couldn’t be more untrue. I desperately want him to stay. At least until my first day of class on Wednesday. It’s only Saturday. What am I going to do with all this free time before school starts?
“I’m not trying to get rid of you. I’m just starving. Let’s go eat.”
“But I thought we could walk around campus first. You didn’t even get to see it last night.”
“I’ll see plenty of it later. Let’s just go.” I pull on him, trying to get out of there as fast as possible.
We find a restaurant a couple miles away. It’s loud with screaming kids and clanking dishes. I don’t do well with loud noises. I get very anxious and feel like I can’t breathe. When my mom was alive, she would yell and throw things or bang pans together to get my attention. When I got older, I’d run out of the house to escape the noise.
“How was your first night at college?” Ryan asks. He’s way more excited about the whole college thing than I am.
I hesitate, wishing I could tell him the truth. But I can’t. Over the years, I’ve learned that people really don’t like the truth. The truth is ugly and painful. It’s uncomfortable. It makes you question things. It creates uncertainty. People don’t want that. They want to hear a version of the truth that meets the expectations they’ve already conjured up in their own head. And Ryan has conjured up the idea of me living this picture-perfect happy life at a prestigious private college.
“It was great,” I say, smiling but also cringing as the toddler in the seat behind me lets out a high-pitched scream.
“Did you meet anyone last night or did you go right to bed?”
“I met some girls when I was in the bathroom,” I lie. “They were really friendly and they live on my floor.”
“See? I knew you’d make friends right away.”
“And that Garret guy stopped by again. He thought you and I were dating. I almost couldn’t stop laughing.”
“Huh. So he’s trying to see if you have a boyfriend.” Ryan gets his overprotective look. “I want you to be careful around these college guys. Keep practicing those self defense moves I taught you and don’t be afraid to use them.”
“Okay, Dad.” I roll my eyes.
“I’m serious. Remember, bony parts meet soft parts equals pain. Jab an elbow in his eye or a knee in his groin.”
“Yeah, enough of that. I’m trying to eat breakfast.”
“I’m just saying. It works. You may need it someday, especially if you’ve got pretty boy knocking on your door all the time. What did he want anyway?”
Pretty boy? I guess Garret is kind of a pretty boy. Like a male model for one of those preppy clothing brands.
“He invited me to a party tonight. I told him I’d go, but I’m sure I won’t.”
“You should go. But go with a group of girls. You shouldn’t get in a car alone with a guy you just met.”
“He said it’s close to campus. We’ll probably just walk there.”
The toddler behind me screams again making me nearly jump from my seat. The screaming doesn’t stop. It’s too loud. Way too loud. My feet start nervously tapping the floor under the table.
Ryan doesn’t seem to notice the noise. “Still, just go with those girls you met. It’s safer.” He pours more syrup on his pancakes.
“You worry way too much. You’re like a 50-year-old stuck in a 21-year-old’s body.”
He keeps his eyes down on his plate and I realize I shouldn’t have said that. I know Ryan doesn’t want to be that way. He wants to be a carefree college student like other guys his age. Instead he’s been forced into this caretaker role for his dad. I suppose that would’ve been my future, too, if my mom hadn’t died. I’d be the responsible caretaker of my drunk, pill-addicted mother.
I kick his foot under the table. “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that. I like that you’re responsible. I was just kidding.”
He sets his fork down and looks at me across the table. I know that look. And I know I won’t like whatever he’s about to say.
4
“I have some bad news. I was going to wait until after breakfast but I might as well tell you now. My dad—” Ryan stops for a moment as the bus boy cleans the table next to us, banging dishes together. When he leaves, Ryan continues. “Dad went to the hospital in the middle of the night in an ambulance.”
“Why? What happened?” I swallow hard as my feet continue to anxiously tap the floor.
Before he can answer, the toddler behind me goes into total tantrum mode, stomping repeatedly on the seat of the booth and screaming even louder than before. I can’t take another second of it. It’s so much noise and I need it to be quiet right now.
I whip around and glare at the parents who don’t seem to notice the excruciating sounds coming their child. “What the hell? Can’t you make that thing be quiet? I mean, seriously? Are you not hearing this?”
They stare at me as if I’m the rudest person on the planet. I turn back around. Ryan’s red with embarrassment, trying not to make eye contact with the people behind me. Meanwhile the kid continues to scream.
“Let’s just leave. I’ll be at the car.” I get up and storm out the door, not waiting for him. I’m doing all I can not to break down into a sobbing mess. I can’t handle Frank being this sick. I can’t handle something bad happening to him. He’s my family. He and Ryan are all I have. They’re the only people in the world who care that I even exist.
I take some deep breaths and wipe away the liquid that has pooled on the inside corners of
my eyes. Ryan meets me by the car and unlocks the doors.
“My freaking allergies are acting up with all these trees everywhere.” I reach down and grab a tissue from the box on the floor of the car. “God, can you believe that kid? And what the hell is wrong the parents?”
Ryan doesn’t answer. He remains quiet as we drive back to campus. I wish he’d just finish telling me about Frank and get it over with. His silence makes me worry even more.
“Do you want to go sit somewhere?” he asks when we’re back on campus.
“Yeah, but let’s stay outside.”
I feel like I might throw up the pancakes I just ate, so there’s no way I could go in my residence hall with its old, musty stench.
I lead Ryan to the open grassy area in the middle of campus. We take a seat on one of the benches under a giant oak tree. It’s a beautiful late summer morning. The humid air has been replaced by a light, almost cool breeze, as if fall has decided to make a brief appearance before summer finishes up.
“So how bad is it? Is he going to die?” I blurt it out. It’s completely selfish of me to mention Frank’s possible death like that. I know it’s the last thing Ryan wants to hear or even consider. But I hate bad news and if it’s bad news I want to be told quickly. Like a bandage being ripped off, not slowly peeled away.
“No, it’s not like that. He got dizzy and fell when he got up to use the bathroom in the night. He wasn’t using his wheelchair.”
“So why is he in the hospital?”
“It was a bad fall. He bruised his ribs and has a stress fracture in his arm.” Ryan takes a deep breath and lets it out. “The doctors said his disease is progressing faster than they expected. Plus he has some other health issues and the MS only complicates those.”
“I don’t understand. What are you trying to say? That Frank won’t be okay?”
“They’re running some tests today and tomorrow. They should know more after that. They’re keeping him in the hospital until at least tomorrow afternoon.”
I get the feeling Ryan’s only telling me part of the story. He always worries about his dad, but he seems even more worried than normal. I don’t know what to say to him. I’m terrible at comforting people. Probably because nobody ever comforted me.
He leans forward resting his forearms on his knees. “I did some thinking last night and I decided to take this semester off.”
“But, Ryan, that’ll mess up your plans for med school. You’ll have to wait another whole year to start.”
“Med school might be on hold indefinitely now. I have to take care of my dad. As you witnessed yesterday, I can’t count on those home health care people. And I can’t afford it. We have medical bills that—” He stops. “Never mind. It’s just that med school is expensive and I need to take care of my dad. I’ll finish college later. Maybe I’ll go back in the spring. I just need to take this semester off and get a job to help pay bills.”
“Have we always been in debt like this? Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve got a job and helped out.”
He sits up and lays his arm along the back of the bench. “You had a job. Going to school, getting good grades, and getting into college.”
“I mean a real job. A paying job. Sacking groceries or waitressing. Anything.”
“Enough talk about money. Let me worry about that. I want you to have a normal college experience. Have fun. Don’t even think about this. I’m sure everything will work out.”
“Not if Frank doesn’t get better,” I mumble.
Ryan gets up. “I really hate leaving you so soon, but I need to get on the road. I have to pick up Dad when he’s released tomorrow.”
“You’ll have to drive all night in order to make it there. That’s like 22 hours hours of driving.”
He laughs. “I know. I just drove it. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ll stock the car with caffeine on my way out of town. Do you need anything before I leave?”
“No, I don’t need anything. But you’ll call me later, right? Let me know how he’s doing?”
“Yeah, I will. Set up the voicemail on your room phone so I can leave a message if you’re not home.”
“I’m sure I’ll be home but I’ll get it set up.”
“I’m really sorry I can’t get you a cell phone, but I can barely pay for this one.”
“It’s okay. I don’t need one.” My eyes are pooling with liquid again, infuriating me.
Ryan waits for me to get up, then pulls me into a hug. “I’ll miss you, Jade.”
Dammit! Why did he have to say that? And what the hell’s with this hug? We never hug! I feel more tears building. My face hurts and my throat burns as I try to hold them back. Ryan starts to pull away, but I don’t let him. I have to get control of myself first. I close my eyes and think of my mom yelling at me, telling me I’m weak and how weak people never go anywhere in life. Thinking of her shuts off the tears completely and I’m finally able to let him go.
He smiles. “You annoy the hell out of me, but I’ll still miss you.”
I punch him. “Like you’re not annoying with your constant safety reminders and junk food bans?”
“You know you love me, even when I nag you about shit.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Here.” He hands me a stack of twenties. “When you need more, just call.”
“I’m not taking this!” I shove it back in his hand. “You just told me you had no money. You need that for gas to get home. I don’t need money here. Everything’s paid for.”
He takes my hand and places the money in it, forcing my fingers to close around it. “You should always have cash. What if you need to take a cab or a bus somewhere? Or maybe you’ll need it for laundry or to feed your potato chip addiction.”
My stupid eyes get watery again as I look down at the wad of cash in my hand.
“Thanks, Ryan.” Now my voice is shaky. God, I hate this. I hate people being nice and I hate saying goodbye. A tear escapes my eye and runs down my cheek. I pretend it isn’t there, but I know he sees it.
He puts his arm around my shoulder. “Hey, I know it’s tough being so far from home, but you’ll get into a routine and everything will get better. Call me whenever you want, okay? Even if it’s the middle of the night.”
We walk slowly back to the car. I want to act like that toddler at the restaurant and scream and cry at the top of my lungs, begging him not to leave me here. But I can’t, so instead I say, “Have a safe trip.”
“It won’t be as fun without my travel companion, but at least I can pick the radio station now.” He gets in the car and rolls the window down. “Go to the party tonight. It’ll be good for you. Don’t hide in your room, okay?”
“Yes. I know. Bye, Ryan.”
“Bye, Jade.” He backs out and I watch as he drives away.
I’m left feeling empty and alone and completely out of place. My chest is so tight that just the simple act of breathing is difficult. I look around at the open quad, focusing on the lush, green grass, trying to relax.
It’s only 10 in the morning. I have the whole day left in this strange place with nothing to do and no one to talk to. And even more days after that. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to school so far from home. I can’t handle it. Maybe I am weak, just like my mother said.
I go back to my room and dump all of my garbage bags out on the floor. I find some running shorts and a t-shirt and put them on, then head back outside. There has to be a track somewhere on this campus.
I run past the buildings down a small hill and there it is, next to the gym and the tennis courts. I breathe a sigh of relief. I need to run. It’s the only thing that will make me feel better. When I run, I almost go into a trance. I listen to the rhythm of my breath and the sound of my shoes hitting the ground and together they form a pattern that’s oddly soothing.
I usually don’t like to run on a track, but today it’s exactly what I need. I like how predictable it is. Straight then curved, then straight, then curved.
A
s soon as I start running, I feel the calmness I was craving. I get lost in the repetition of my movement around the oval track and I lose all sense of time. After a while the sun is really hot and I realize that it’s probably way past noon. I take a break and sit at the side of the track, completely soaked in sweat.
“Have a good run?”
I turn to see Garret walking toward me in navy athletic shorts and a gray t-shirt. It looks like he’s been running, too, although he’s not nearly as sweaty as me.
“It was all right,” I say. “I don’t usually run on a track.”
“You should’ve come with me. I ran a couple miles around campus.”
I shake my head, sweat dripping off me like a wet dog. “That’s not far enough. I usually run 8 or 9 miles.”
He sits down next to me. As in right next to me. Can he not see how sweaty I am? I’m sure he can smell me from 10 feet away. I can’t even stand the smell of myself.
“Eight or 9 miles? You must be a serious runner. I’m a swimmer. I only run to improve my cardio for the pool. I do a couple miles at a normal pace and then I do sprints on the track.”
So that’s why he has that body. He’s a swimmer. That explains the broad shoulders and narrow waist V shape he’s got going on.
“Go ahead.” I point to the empty track. “It’s all yours.”
“Why don’t you do them with me?” he asks in a challenging tone. “Let’s race.”
I never turn down a challenge. Well, sometimes I do, but it’s rare. “I’m a distance runner, not a sprinter. But a distance runner can beat a swimmer any day. This should be easy.” I stand up, stretching my legs which are stiffening up after my short break.
“You think you can beat me, huh?” He stretches as well. “So what’s with the insults? You don’t like swimmers?”
I shrug. “Swimmers are okay. I just don’t think they have to work that hard. I mean, the water makes you basically weightless. It’s easy to go fast when you don’t have to drag your body weight around. You don’t get that benefit with running.”
His jaw basically drops to the ground. I’ve just insulted both him and something that’s near and dear to his heart. Apparently this has never happened to him before. Pretty boy must be used to only getting compliments.
Choosing You Page 3
