Eternal Soul

by Amy Henwood

  ETERNAL SOUL

  Amy Henwood

  Copyright © 2019 Amy Henwood

  E-Book Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book by be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical mean, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, expect by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Inquiries please email amyhenwood62@gmail.com

  ISBN 978-0-9938464-1-0

  Character and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  First E-Book Edition May 2019

  Edited by The Bearded Book Editor

  Dedicated to everyone who said I could

  1

  Age is only a number. Yet with any number, there lies an expectation. At four months, a baby is expected to be rolling over, and they are expected to be crawling at seven months. By their first birthday, it is expected that the child is walking, and at age sixteen, the expectation is that they will be driving a vehicle.

  Sure, I followed the recommended guideline according to society—with a few extras thrown in to make things interesting. At age seven, my grandma died, and at eight, I spoke with her spirit. Age nine brought on strange voices in my head, and somewhere around the ten-year mark was when the voices never stopped. Finally, when I was twenty-two years old, my life flashed before my eyes…

  “Scarlett.” A voice came through my thin bedroom door. “Scarlett.” The female sound of my roommate, Mia, came through again.

  She got my name in one more time with rapidly growing agitation.

  Slowly I pulled my groggy thoughts together into clearer line items. Wednesday. No. Thursday. Today is Thursday. Thursday is a weekday. A weekday is a school day.

  The bellowing started again; this time accompanied by loud knocking at my door.

  “Scarlett! Get up or you will be walking your sorry ass to campus.”

  Throwing off my blanket, a chill of air greeted me. It took intense willpower not to grab my duvet and pull it back over my head before all the heat built from my night's sleep escaped. I peeked behind the drawn curtains to find a fresh cloak of white powdered snow covering every square inch of bare ground that had been left exposed the night before.

  Gazing over to my alarm clock, I was flabbergasted that I forgot to set my alarm the previous evening. Four years at Darlington and never once had I forgotten to set my morning alarm. I did, however, go home one Thanksgiving weekend while Mia stayed behind. She was rudely awakened the following morning by the alarm that I had forgotten to turn off. Her plan of a quiet weekend alone and sleeping in was shattered by my pure negligence. One of the good things about having a stingy, uncaring landlord was that our bedroom doors were not equipped to lock. Mia was able to access my alarm with no issues and turn it off. She even left the darn thing intact.

  I had never been concerned that she had such easy access to my room. She and I were best friends. The fear of anything growing feet and walking away was non-existent, especially when she considered my wardrobe collection to be something a mother would wear—almost pushing the limits of a young grandma. Relaxed fit jeans, baggy around the butt, with t-shirts that have never properly fit my lightweight 5’8” body.

  “Come on, or I am leaving without you,” she said.

  “Is that a threat?” I shouted back through the sealed door.

  “Sure is,” she replied.

  “And you would really leave me behind?”

  I kept the shouting conversation going long enough to distract her as I changed from pyjamas into the beloved mom jeans and one of those unfitting shirts, finishing off the look with the only socks I could stumble across, which turned out to be a mismatch. Making a fashion statement had never been an item of importance to me.

  The thought of having to walk on the cold, unshoveled sidewalks because I missed my ride with Mia did not glamour me. I would, however, walk rather than take public transit. The well-inhabited bus that mostly housed university students consistently had a lingering smell of booze, smoke and sometimes even the “pleasuring” scent of vomit. I hurried up my morning routine.

  I swung open my door and rushed down the hall into the bathroom. I passed Mia with enough speed to make her hair move with the breeze. Even with my back turned to her, I knew she was fixing those now out-of-place strands.

  The nerve, she would be thinking. Me, messing up her perfect hairdo. Her looks always worked in her favour, along with her flawless fashion sense. Mia donned straight brown hair with enough volume that it would bounce when she walked. Her nails were regularly cared for, with the cuticles pushed back and tips frenched. Her makeup was done perfectly every day—not that overpowering, I-wear-three-pounds-of-foundation look, but enough to highlight those amber eyes of her.

  Her jacket was already on, boots done up and car keys in hand.

  I brushed my teeth just enough to cover up the morning breath stench and ran back to my room to grab one of my overly unsexy fleece pullovers that was waiting for me on the back of my bedroom door.

  I felt her eyes following me as I moved from the bathroom to bedroom to bathroom. I threw my unrinsed toothbrush onto the counter, and it ricocheted into the sink. Not caring, I moved on.

  Back in my bedroom, I retrieved my backpack from the floor and stuffed textbooks and binders into it.

  Don’t forget your mittens, a voice in my head told me.

  I made it out the door and into Mia’s already snow-cleared car only four minutes behind schedule. Our usual seven-minute drive would have approximately three minutes added to it due to weather conditions. Taking into consideration whether or not the main roads had been plowed, it was more likely an added ten minutes.

  The parking lot was empty compared to a warmer, non-snow-drifted day. Not that fellow students were still out on the roads due to the weather conditions, but more likely due to them staying in bed. We had the doors of Mia’s Kia Rio opened before it was shifted into park, and we walked toward one of the many university entrances at a faster pace than normal.

  I slipped my cold hands into my jacket pockets, as locating my mittens had not even been an option that morning. It was not the most attractive winter jacket on the market, but it did the job of keeping me warm on the cold winter days.

  Mia and I moved stride for stride in complete silence. She sniffled a few times as we moved closer to the entrance. Sure, we all get runny noses when it is cold and windy out, but this was more than that. She had a lingering head cold that she had caught from the guy that was over the previous weekend. I don’t even attempt to learn their names anymore as she never sees them more than a handful of times each. Like a toy so desperately wanted by a small child for Christmas, only to have the novelty wear off after a few short days. Shelving it, getting kicked under the bed or thrown into the back corner of a closet, never to be unearthed.

  A hair tie was displayed on her bedroom door, warning me of the inevitable—because the men’s shoes on the front mat or the giggling down the hallway didn’t give it away enough. Let’s not forget the non-insulated interior walls. Noise-cancelling headphones were a first-year investment that was well worth the money.

  I made sure to stock up on the essentials of preventive cold medication and hand sanitizer in the hopes that whatever cold strand Mia was carrying would bypass me.

  The corridor greeted us with a blast of indoor warmth, hitting us like the Amazon.

  “Meet you in the cafe after first period?” I asked Mia.

  “As always,” she countered as we branched off in separate directions.

  The first class of the day, and the longest, was microeconomics. Not in physical time length, but as in watch
ing the clock crawl slower than a South American sloth moving from branch to branch, slowly eating their leaf dinner, savouring it as though it was their last meal.

  The lecture hall that fit approximately two hundred and fifty students was roughly half full. Numbers had dwindled over the academic years, either because of dropouts, changing studies or skippers. I never fully understood the concept of skipping at university. If I am paying for tuition, and an expensive one at that, why would I not attend class? I guess there were the few that have their parents paying their way, possibly to get them out of their home for a few years. I suppose I could not judge too much. My parents were footing my tuition bill, but even at that, I wanted to pass so they would get off my back. Maybe, in the slightest chance, once I was older—because being twenty-two was apparently not old enough to control my own destiny—I might be lucky enough to use my good grades as leverage to pick another career path. Highly unlikely, though, as my parents’ successful construction business, and their ultimate goal of me taking in over in the future, had me enrolled in business economics with a minor in accounting.

  Attendance was never taken—in any class. As long as tests were done, exams were written, and assignments were handed in on time, the professors couldn’t care less if a student physically stepped foot into the classroom or not.

  The lecture hall was bland, as if it was not hard enough trying to stay awake for microeconomics. Blush purple chairs for the abundant, or lack thereof, students. Walls painted stale beige with sound-absorbing panels. A large screen for the projector hanging in the centre of the front wall, and finishing off the standard lecture hall look was a podium for the professor, equipped with lighting controls and a thin-stemmed microphone.

  I scanned the room looking of a familiar face. I spotted my friend Lucy turned backwards in her chair making small talk with a fellow student. When she peered up from her chatters, she noticed me as well. Her arm rose into the air and motioned me to come sit with her. “Hey, Scarlett. You feeling alright?” Lucy said when I took a seat beside her. “You look like shit.” Honesty was, unfortunately, her best character trait.

  “Yeah, I am fine. I forgot to set my alarm and Mia gracefully woke me up,” I said with exaggeration.

  She chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

  “Nor should it,” I said, slightly shaking my head.

  I retrieved my pen and notebook out of my bag, pulling out the small fold-away writing surface from the side of the chair to rest my items on.

  “Ready for today's wild world of micro-boredness?” she asked, passing time until the lecture began.

  I turned my attention from the front of the room toward her. “As always.”

  “No wonder you were so anxious to get out of bed this a.m.”

  “Just as much as you were.”

  “At least I had the decency to brush my hair,” she said while eyeballing the top of my head.

  “Point taken,” I said, going red in the face.

  Embarrassed, I ran my fingers through my hair, wondering how I could forget such a simple task. Oh right: Mia.

  “Oh, it's really not that bad.” Lucy attempted to reassure me. “It just looks slightly wind-tossed. You know, that’s all the rage these days.”

  “The messy kind of hairstyle?” I glared at her.

  “No, no. The wind toss...never mind. You know, you really should have taken Fashion 101 instead of business.”

  “Maybe I am in business because I know that any fashion class would be an automatic fail mark for me.”

  “Truth.”

  We terminated our conversation as the noise level in the lecture hall went from loud monologues to a gentle hum, with only the occasional student whispering to a peer about course-related material.

  As I turned my attention from Lucy to the front of the class, I noticed a guy seated a few rows ahead of me. He was talking to the student beside him. He looked up and our eyes met for what seemed like an eternity—but was most likely only milliseconds. A small, simple smile emerged from him as he stared directly at me before he turned his attention to Professor Lovell.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen…” I faintly heard Lovell address the class, but my mind had already drifted from trying not to have my entire body spasm from the chill that was sent down my spine—my heart was no longer beating in a rhythmic pattern.

  All throughout life, I was never the girl that was noticed. I was the average Jane with blonde hair and blue eyes. No special facial features or large bust size to stare at. I blended in with the crowd and didn’t stand out to anybody. A wooden pole had a higher chance than me in getting picked in elementary school gym class for a game of baseball. Then again, at least the pole could serve the purpose of a bat.

  I was the loser with my back against the wall during school dances, never getting asked to dance. I was ever so grateful when high school rolled around and dances were no longer a mandatory activity. My sad excuse for a social life carried along with me from adolescence to adulthood.

  I had never noticed this guy before in passing, but with a large student body, that didn't come as a surprise. I passed people in the hallways every day that I didn’t recall seeing before, though chances were we had crossed one another multiple times.

  Bewilderment was overcoming me. Someone of the opposite sex had noticed me, Scarlett Courtright. Clearly it had to do with the fact we were both not paying direct attention to Lovell at the exact same moment in time. The smile of a silent secret bonding us, both conversing in class while we knew better not to. Whatever the reason why, it was enough to make me feel attractive and feminine for a brief period of my life.

  Lucy’s elbow jabbed me in the arm.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “That guy up there is totally checking you out.”

  “What guy?” I said, trying to sound as if I had no idea what she was talking about.

  “The guy with brown hair, up there, a few rows ahead.” Her head motioned in his direction.

  Correcting her would blow my cover, so I didn’t tell her that it was four rows separating us. I looked again to where he was sitting only to meet his eyes for a second, longer time.

  “You think so?” I played along.

  “Yeah. For sure,” she said before turning her head back to the front of the room.

  I attempted to bring my focus back to Lovell, but it was increasingly difficult when Mr. Brunette once again turned toward me and slowly and ever so sexily gave me another delicious smile.

  My mind speculated—drifting away and getting lost in a fantasy of love. What if I converse with him, beginning a romance like none before? A love story full of incredible lust that even our grandchildren would find impossible to believe. Romantic dates only fitting for a princess. A wedding only fit for royalty. Perfect family portraits worthy of picture frame stock photos.

  The noise in the lecture hall increased, pulling me out of my daze. The entire lesson was gone and I hadn’t registered a single sentence from Lovell’s mouth.

  “Ah, it's finally over, and we have survived for another day,” Lucy said to me. “Meeting Mia in the cafe as usual?”

  I slowly packed my notebook and pen in my bag. My mind was feeling light while it kept drawing visuals of Mr. Brunette. He, of course, had already disappeared into the slew of people, as if he never even existed.

  “Scarlett?”

  I wondered what class he would have next. What course was he studying? What was the probability of us crossing paths again? Next microeconomics class? Next week? Tomorrow? Today?

  “Earth to Scarlett? Cafeteria? Food? Mia?”

  My head finally came back to reality on this planet, processing Lucy’s words.

  “Yes. Cafe. To meet Mia.”

  Lucy and I finished packing our belongings and filed our way out of the lecture hall and became another two tiny bodies in a large crowd. The tiniest blip on a massive map.

  2

  Lucy and I met up with Mia in the cafeteria as promised.
Our next class ran through lunch, so our group liked to grab a late breakfast in order to tide us over until the afternoon.

  I skipped my usual bottled orange juice and opted for a double-cream, single-sugar coffee. My head ached from missing my morning coffee at our rental, due to Mia’s urgency. I will point out that it didn’t make us late. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel overly groggy either from missing my wake-me-up coffee. Possibly the eye contact with Mr. Brunette gave me that extra perk of getting me through the morning. An addition of a multigrain bagel with cream cheese would hopefully put my rumbling empty stomach at bay for a while as well.

  Lucy and I weaved through the cafeteria that could pass for a gymnasium if it was not for the rows of tables and chairs. Those bland beige colour walls repeated, and it had a tall ceiling with halogen lighting. I bet if the university board had the brain power to convert the current lighting to energy efficient LEDs, the hydro savings would be enough to feed a small village, or at least lower our tuition or the outrageous food prices. Who am I kidding—those greedy bastards would keep it for themselves. Let them waste it.

  We passed tables filled with students, finally locating Mia, who was sitting with Lucy’s roommate, Emily.

  “Hey!” Lucy and I greeted them simultaneously before taking our seats.

  “Hey Scarlett. Hi Lucy,” Mia said. “How was your lecture this morning?”

  Lucy did not hesitate in responding to Mia. “Boring as always. Something to do with supply and demand, but that’s about all I got out of it.”

  “And how are you, Scarlett?” Emily interjected, directing the attention to me.

  “Umm—good,” I responded while pulling small pieces of my bagel apart to consume, only making eye contact with my food.

  “Is she alright?” Emily asked.

  Lucy took a sip of her coffee before responding. “She met a guy.”

  “Like, a real one?” Mia asked.

  Geez, thanks for the sincerity, Mia.