Archives:
December 30-January 5, 2008
December 30, 2007
“All right, I think that's the last of it,” Julie says slinging the duffel bag containing her sleeping bag over her shoulder.
I look in after her to see the trunk does indeed appear empty, and fling it shut. I straighten my own bag over my shoulder, and smile, looking up at Teri's little blue house. Just like last year, Christmas lights still hang in low hanging loops from the shingles. It only occurs to me, standing here now, that Teri and I are on the cusp of our one year anniversary.
I wonder if it means anything that I didn't think of it until now. I wonder if I'll have a chance to slip out and get her flowers or something.
Matt leads the way up the driveway, toward the house. I follow Julie, bringing up the rear of the pack.
“Hey, Teri?” Julie says as Teri pulls open the door.
“You must be Julie,” she says, with a quick smile, then turns, “Hey Matt.” She looks to me next, and I smile widely. “ Preston , didn't you say you were going to get here by six?”
“Yeah, we got a little held up—”
“Yeah, well my parents had reservations for 6:30 , so they already left.” She exhales loudly. “What was the hold up.”
“I got a little turned around coming into town—”
“Well, we haven't moved since last year,” Teri cuts me off again. “So get your things inside and let's go.”
Teri steps out of the way allowing us all in. I try to make eye contact with her, but she'll barely even look at me as I come inside. I turn away to, following Julie and Matt's lead, setting my bags down in the living room.December 31, 2007
“All right,” Julie says, “I'm going to pick Matt.”
“Well there's a shocker,” Matt says, sipping from his can of Labatt Blue. “I'll take truth.”
“A shocker in return,” Julie says. I feel a little juvenile sitting here playing truth or dare, and it doesn't help that Matt and Julie are in on the game, making me recall the high school days when I played the game with them a time or two.
The context of the game has given Teri and I chance to sit together, though, and not argue—a nice reprieve from the past day. I find it kind of hard to fathom why she'd treat me like this after I drove all afternoon to see her, and even thought about leaving town before the party tonight. I ended up staying mostly because Matt and Julie were with me.
“OK, here's an easy one,” Julie says. “What's your new year's resolution?”
Matt looks away pursing his lips as he thinks. I begin to think of what my own answer would be. I think of how I sort of lost direction at college last semester. I don't have the paper anymore. I'm no more sure now than I ever was about what I want to do with my life after college. I think about resolving to find a direction. Maybe a join a new club. Maybe to get an internship or something that's going to lead to a job.
“Guess I'm going to resolve to do a better job keeping in touch with people—you know, friends and family and everything.”
“That's nice,” one of Teri's high school friends says, her head lolling to the side from too many wine coolers too early in the night.
Matt takes that opportunity to challenge the girl to a truth or dare. She chooses the dare, and before long, he's got her standing on the coffee table, singing along to a Kelly Clarkson song from the radio. It's pretty funny for the folks in our circle. I think the rest of the party is pretty disenchanted with the whole thing.
I think of how little sense it makes for me to be at this party—here with a girlfriend, a year in, I'm not sure why I'm with. Here with two friends who don't know anyone else here. Here, not even sure what I want out of the year ahead.
“Yo, Presto,” Matt calls.
I turn to him.
“The lady asked you, truth or dare?”
I turn until I find a pair of eyes, waiting on me from a girl I met at last year's party, but whose name I can't remember.
“Truth,” I say out of instinct, not really thinking about it.
The girl bites her lower lip, her eyes shifting from side to side. “All right, if you could pick on person to be here with you tonight, who isn't, who it would it be?”
Oddly enough, the first person my mind turns to is my grandmother. I remember celebrating New Year's with her and my brother when we were kids, when my parents would go out to celebrate the evening with their friends. Then I think of my parents. With my mother back in Florida , I wonder what either of them are doing tonight. I wonder if they have plans, or if they care. I sort of get the feeling like I should call them at midnight .
I wonder if I would wake them up.
I think of my friends from school. I imagine that Dave's drinking or smoking something now. Cameron might well be with him. I imagine Chang is having a good time with Brad.
I think of Emma. I wonder if she's with Bud. I wonder if she's hanging it with her friends from high school. I've met a few of them, and they were a fun enough crowd. I remember two years ago, calling her at the stroke of midnight , and how we talked straight through until 1 a.m. I think of how good it felt last semester, getting reacquainted with her, erasing all of the bad blood, and the awkward stuff.
I wish she could be here tonight.
I make eye contact with Teri. She's watching me with everyone else, waiting for an answer.
I crack a smile. “I guess I'd say my buddy, Joey, from back home. Good guy—we would probably get a card game going or something.”
“Good pick,” Matt nods, drawing everyone's eyes over to him. “I miss the guy too.” He raises his beer. “To Joey.”
“To Joey,” half the group seconds him, having no idea who Joey is, but ready to toast him anyway.
*
We crowd around the TV screen, just where we were the year before, as the final minute of 2007 begins. People start blowing noisemakers early, and there's enough chatter and laughter that you can't hear a word from the TV.
Teri sits in my lap, her side to me, head turned to face the TV. I watch her. I'm glad she's here. I'm glad to be here.
I think of all of the petty fights. The things that get to us, the second-guessing. And then I think about a year. I think of how we've made it through a year, for better or worse, and I like to think we're the better for it.
In my mind, I make my resolution, right here and now. I resolve not to let the little things bother me—not to let these little problems get in the way of what matters.
As the new year strikes, Teri turns to me, eyes locked on mine. I pull her in and kiss her softly. “Happy new year.”January 1, 2008
Teri's kid brother Joe leaps up from behind a snow bank, hurling a snowball at his little sister. She whirls just in time, so the snowball smacks against the back of her bubbly blue coat.
“Play nice, Joe!” Teri calls, from over the brim of her mug of hot chocolate, steaming in the winter cold.
I chuckle.
“What?” Teri asks.
“I just bet you were the same way when you were growing up—all competitive, and out to take down the enemy.” I pause, taking a sip from my mug of coffee. “And now here you are, reprimanding the kid.”
Teri grins, looking at me out the corner of her eye. “So what if I was like that,” she says. “Someone's gotta keep the kids in line now.”
I shrug. “I suppose that's true.”
I stretch my arms, yawning. I'm glad we decided to stay for the day, and not head home until tomorrow. I couldn't get a good sleep on the floor of Teri's friend's place. We dropped off Julie and Matt at the mall afterward to hang out for a while, and tried to crash in Teri's room, but the kids were being loud, and then her folks asked us to take them outside and watch them. I think Teri was going to say no, but in the interest of putting my best face forward, I said we'd happy keep an eye on the kids.
“Remember how fun it would be to play when you were a kid?” Teri asks. “Running around, getting caught in some imaginary world, where you looked a lot cooler than you really do, and you were doing something really important.”
“Some might argue that college is like that.”
Teri sips from her hot chocolate. “That's kind of depressing, Presto.”
I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Taking it out, I see it's Matt on the other end. “Looks like Matt and Julie have exhausted the mall.” I look at my watch. “That took all of 90 minutes.”
“It's a small mall,” Teri says. “Ninety minutes is pretty impressive.” She downs what's left in her cup. “Well if your friends are ready to go, I guess we'll have to pick them up, which means the kids have to head inside.”
I grin. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” I say, flipping open the phone. “Hey, Matt, what's up?”January 2, 2008
The feeling of my cell phone shaking my pocket is enough to wake me from sleep. “You guys, turn down the radio for a second.”
Julie reaches over, obliging, as Matt continues to guide my Oldsmobile down the highway.
The caller ID on my phone shows the generic number that always shows up when someone is calling from the Taylor College campus. I wonder who would be there at that point, as I flip the phone open. “Hello?”
“Hello, is this Preston Burns?” a gruff, deep voice asks me.
“It is.”
“ Preston , this is Charles Tater, the Director of Residence Life at Taylor College . How are you this afternoon?”
“I'm good,” I say, sitting up a little straighter. “I mean, I'm doing well. How are you?”
“Good, good,” he says. “I'm sorry to bother you over the break, but I had some news I thought might interest you, Preston .”
“Well, what's that?”
“We have an open RA position,” Charles says. “I know you turned it down when we offered you a position last spring, but—well, our list of alternates has run pretty thin, so we were hoping you might reconsider.”
I run a hand through my hair. I haven't really thought of being an RA since I decided to take over the paper at the end of last year. That seems like ages ago now. “Well, that's a great offer, and I'm grateful that you'd give me the chance.” I look to Matt and Julie, as if they have any idea what I'm hearing. “Is there any way I could have a little time to think about this?”
“Sure, sure,” Charles says, “I'm happy to let you have a few days. We sent an e-mail to your Taylor account too with all of the information you should need—our compensation package, job expectations, so on and so forth. Just let me know inside of a week or so, all right?”
“That sounds fair,” I say, nodding. “I'll definitely let you know.”January 3, 2008
“So you get a free room—and a single at that—and free food for the semester?” Matt asks, slurring his words as a cheese doodle hangs between his lips, and he sits slouched on the couch. “What's not to like?”
“Well the RA thing isn't just any job,” I say. “It's a lifestyle. I mean, in the e-mail they sent me, there's all this talk about being a role model, and holding everyone to college policies. And it's a shit load of work.”
“And the paper wasn't a shit load of work?”
I nod, turning back to the TV. We were surfing through channels of Matt's family's newly acquired digital cable, and for whatever reason stopped on some old movie, starring Richard Gere.
“I guess the work itself shouldn't be that daunting,” I say, looking back at Matt. “But it's just, like, what if I'm out of shape. I kind of settled into the whole regular student thing—not having to work crazy hours or anything.” I scratch at the stubble I've allowed to grown since New Year's. “But then, I guess I have been looking for something new. Something to sink my teeth into and all.”
“My old man always said, when opportunity lands in your lap, you'd best take it and run.”
“That doesn't sound like your dad.”
Matt shrugs. “Eh, it was some old man. Not bad advice, anyway.”January 4, 2008
“Residence Life, this is Janice,” the tinny voice of a woman comes across the phone.
“Hi,” I say, taking a deep breath, “can I please speak to Charles Tater?”
“Chip's not in the office today,” Janice says. There's a smacking sound from her end, which I soon recognize as the sound of her chewing gum, or eating some sort of snack. “Can I take a message?”
“Yeah,” I say, but feel kind of uncertain about leaving a message with her. I'm not sure if she's a professional receptionist, or another res life administrator filling in on the phone—or just some college kid from town, getting paid a minimum wage to answer the phones while the big wigs are out for the day. “Or, does he have a voicemail I could get to?”
“The voicemail system got messed up over the holiday break, so for now it's ol' pen and pencil messages only.”
“Right,” I say, sitting down at my desk in my room. “Well, my name is Preston Burns—”
“Oh, Preston Burns!” she says, loud enough I have to pull the phone from my ear. “I'm supposed to pass you off to our associate director. One moment, please.”
For a second, I feel like kind of a big deal. That, or they're just that desperate to hire a new RA.January 5, 2008
“Na man, keep that sour cream shit away,” Joey says, shooing away Chang's offer, as he picks up his potato skin, filled with bright yellow cheese and bacon bits. “So Presto, an RA—that's like a supervisor for the floor? You make sure people are doing their homework and shit?”
“Sort of,” I say, leaning back, looking out at the restaurant. It's dim out there, and I wonder how the servers find their way through the crowd—how they keep the tables straight. I guess their eyes adjust to the dark, though, when they don't spend too long in the light of any given table. I suppose most of them have walked the floor so many times there's no worry of getting lost in the maze. “It's more being there to answer questions, and making sure people aren't drinking or doing drugs in the hall or anything.”
“My friend's an RA,” Julie says, picking a fry off Matt's plate. She didn't order anything for herself, besides a Diet Coke. She said she doesn't like to eat so late at night. “It's kind of sad—I hardly ever see her anymore.”
Matt elbows her arm.
“What?” Julie asks. “I'm being honest. Being an RA makes you kind of different. You can't just hang out at a party any more. You know if one of your residents comes in, or if someone takes a picture of you drinking a beer—all of a sudden, it's your job on the line.”
“No shit,” Joey says.
“She's right,” I nod. “There's a strict ethical code, and all of that. It's a lot to take on.”
“Yeah,” Chang says, “but if anyone can take on a big responsibility, it's you, man. You know you're going to be great.”
I nod, looking out at the restaurant again. A waitress weaves her way through the darkness. By the time she arrives a table, I can see her face, smiling, perfectly calm, a tray full of foods balanced on her hand with ease.
“Yeah.” I nod again. “It'll be fine.”