Archives:
March 9-March 15, 2008
March 9, 2008
“Hey,” I say, as Emma opens my door. I wasn't really expecting to see her today. I figured I'd pushed things too far last night, and would have some damage control to do.
“Hey Preston ,” she says, wrapped up in her tweed winter coat, a red knit hat on her head. “I just wanted to say, nice job with that Spring Break bulletin board outside.”
“Thanks.” I put up the bulletin board on Friday. I suppose it's possible she really hadn't looked at it until now. There are times when I wonder if anyone looks at my bulletin boards. This one was about Spring Break travel, covering airline regulations, and how to protect yourself and your belongings, and, and there's a little piece where people could write down what they're planning to do for the break.
“So you didn't write down what your plans are for spring break.”
I shrug. “Thought I'd let someone else get the ball rolling. It's not like my plans are so exciting anyway.”
“Well it must be better than my complete lack of plans,” she says, leaning against the doorframe, propping the door open with her boot.
“I think I'm just going home,” I say. “That big storm we had hit Shermantown pretty good. Sounds like it really messed up my mom's store.”
“Was the store open yet?”
I shake my head. “I think she was hoping to have it open a couple weeks from now. But after this, it's not looking so good. So I think I'm going to spend the break trying to help her clean the place up, get everything back in order.”
“That's really nice of you to do that over your break.”
I'm not really sure what to say, and just sort of shrug.
“Hey, I don't want to mess up plans with your family or anything,” Emma goes on, “but like I said, I don't have anything to do for the break. Do you think it would be OK if I came along?”March 10, 2008
“I've got to say, I didn't think anything could be more boring than an 8 page story about a girl making pudding with her grandmother,” Chang says. “I didn't realize you could proceed to have a forty minute conversation about it.”
“Well, Benjamin's gotta give every piece equal class time,” I say, pushing out the door to head outside. “Just doing his job.”
“But the class has the option of launching some civil disobedience,” Chang says, following me out, “I.E., opting not to take part in a conversation about what the pudding might symbolize about the grandmother.”
“A valid point.”
“Hold on a sec,” Chang says, taking out his phone. “Hello?”
I walk on toward The Lighthouse, where we're going to grab lunch.
“Yeah, I'm good. What's up?” Chang asks. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
I surprised at how warm it feels today, after it was storming just a week ago. It's nice enough out that I certainly could have left the scarf at home, and maybe could have gone with a spring jacket over my winter coat.
“Wait, you're kidding, right?” Chang asks.
A cold breeze blows by, putting me back in my place, as I rebutton the top button of my pea coat.
“But you can't just get up and leave like that. Yeah, I understand the company—” Chang trails off, then exhales. “Yeah, fine, we'll talk about it more later. Yeah, I said it was fine. I'll see ya.” He lets his arm drop and presses a button on the phone, before slipping it back into his pocket.
“What's going on?” I ask.
“It's my parents. My dad got transferred, and they're moving back to China.”March 11, 2008
“You went with the sushi?” I ask, eying the little black tray that Cameron sets down on our table at The Lighthouse.
“What's wrong with sushi?”
I lift the bread of my tuna sandwich, picking a bit of the excess lettuce from it. “I'm just not a big sushi guy. And if I was, I don't think I'd trust Taylor 's food services staff with preparing raw fish.”
“This is mostly just seaweed and rice,” she says, popping off the plastic top, “and maybe you ought to expand your horizons.”
“I think my horizons are just fine where they are.” I put the bread back down, and pick the sandwich for my first bite. “So how have you been?”
“I miss Dave,” she says.
I look up.
She shrugs, frowning for a second. “That's what you were asking anyway. Might as well. Cut to the chase.”
I nod. “All right. So with that being said, how are you doing?”
“I'm OK. I'm doing as well as I'd expect myself to be.” She pokes at one of her rice coated rolls with a plastic fork. “Now my biggest problem is figuring out what I'll do with my Spring Break.”
“No plans?”
“The band had a show booked at this school in South Carolina . We were going to go for the show, and hang out at the beaches and stuff for the rest of the week.”
“Sounds alike a good time.”
“Band was going to lose money, but yeah, it would have been fun. Band's on hiatus now, though. And even, so I wouldn't go with them without Dave there.” She sets down the fork and reaches for her bottle of water. “I don't suppose you have any great Spring Break ideas for me, RA Preston?”
I finish chewing a bite of my sandwich. “I'm just going home. Mom's store got trashed with the storm last week, so I'm going to help fix it up.” I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “You're welcome to join in on that glamorous trip if you want.”
Cameron looks from side to side. “Actually doesn't sound so bad.”March 12, 2008
I knock on Emma's door, peering behind as Gary walks the opposite way down the hallway, banging on doors haphazardly.
“Come in,” Emma calls from inside.
I pop my head in. “Hey, just a reminder—we're doing our program in 10 minutes.”
She sits, slouching in her desk chair, and looks at the wall. “The sex ed one, right?”
“Sexercisation,” I clarify. Gary came up with the title, saying a program like this has to sound hip if you're going to draw a crowd.
“Yeah,” Emma says, turning back to her computer. “I think I'm going to sit this one out.”
“You sure? It oughta be good.”
“Yeah, I've just got some stuff to take care of, you know?”
I know I should leave her be and progress down the hall, in our last minute recruitment effort to make this a successful program. Something about this doesn't sit right with me, though, and I know we have some unfinished business. “Look, Emma, I'm sorry about the other night. I know things got kind of out of control—”
“It's fine.”
“But, Em—”
“I said it's fine,” she says, her voice taking a sharper edge. “I just don't want to go to this stupid program, all right?”
“All right. Sorry to bug you then.”
I step back from the door way, letting the door close. Looking back down the hallway, Gary 's almost to the end of it, banging on doors and calling inside to each one, “It's time to get your sexercise!”March 13, 2008
I take a big bite of my roast beef sandwich. The roast beef's always pretty flavorless here at The Lighthouse. I don't know why I keep getting it from time to time. I suppose it always looks better than it is behind the glass. “How's the peach-ham working out for you?” I ask Chang.
Chang grimaces as he chews. “Based on texture, I'm not sure if it's supposed to be peach flavored ham, or ham flavored peach.”
“Gross.”
“Not The Lighthouse's finest.” He takes a sip of water. “So anyway, my folks are off for China at the end of the month.”
“That fast?”
He nods. “That's when the company needs Dad there. And like Mom was telling me, there's nothing tying them to the area anymore. If anything, they've probably got more friends back in China , and they always wanted to end up back there. And with the money and all—really, I'm the only loose end.”
“Well, that kind of sucks for you.”
“They're right, though, you know? I'm out of the house now. I hardly spend any time there. They'll still visit every now and again, and I can still visit China sometime. It's just the meantime that's going to suck—you know when I don't have a home between school and working at camp; when I don't have a family for Christmas time.” He looks down, poking at the peach-ham with his plastic fork. “But I guess that's growing up, right?”
I pick up a stray piece of roast beef and pop it in my mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is.”March 14, 2008
“You sure it's all right with you if I hang out and help with the store?” Chang asks. We walk along the sidewalk, nearing class. Spring seems to be taking hold. It's not exactly warm yet, but it's been over a week since the last snowfall, and we're seeing a lot of sun.
“Na, I appreciate the help. And besides, I'll have Emma and Cameron there—so it's not like it's a family thing, per se.”
“Cool enough,” Chang says. “I'm just thinking I'm not going to want to spend a lot of time hanging around the house this break. I think it's going to be kind of awkward.”
“Don't want to spend time with the fam while they're there?”
He shrugs. “I do and I don't. I mean, I'll have to pack up my stuff to bring it with me to Taylor and all, and I'll have dinner at home, at least a few times. But I think I'm just going to get angry if I'm around them too much, you know?”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
I think of my folks back at home. I remember how happy Mom sounded the other night when I told her I was coming back to help with the store, and bringing friends to lend a hand. I could hear her relaying the news to Dad, and, in my mind, I could see him smiling, nodding his approval. I think he'll be all the happier to see Chang helping out too. I wonder what he'll have to say about Chang's folks leaving.March 15, 2008
I switch lanes to pass a big red van, going at least 10 below the speed limit, rolling down the highway in the early afternoon. Dave's voice pipes through the speakers, the second track on a promotional CD the band recorded last fall. I thought it might be a little morbid to play music by The Axis we traveled toward Shermantown, but Cameron suggested the CD, and I, for one, have kind of enjoyed getting to hear him again.
“Sometimes, I wonder if they could have been successful,” Cameron says from the backseat. “You know—The Axis. Dave was saying that if they kept broadening the tour base, sooner or later, they'd get to play bigger gigs, maybe get noticed by a label.”
“Bud used to say the same thing,” Emma says, sitting beside me. “But I don't know. I mean, it's so competitive, and so subjective to break into that sort of thing.”
I flick my turn signal, moving back into the right lane. The next song is “Meant To Be.”
“I didn't hear the band play this until the second show I went to,” Cameron says. “And Dave tried to tell me he wrote it for me. Then he gave the CD, which he'd recorded before we even met.”
Emma laughs.
“Sounds like Dave,” I nod.
A big green sign at the side of the road tells me we're 8 miles from our exit. I shift in my seat, stretching my neck, as I prepare for our arrival at home.