Archives:October 1-October 7, 2006
October 1, 2006
I found Emma in the library. All of the group meeting rooms in the library were taken when she got there, and so we were left standing in the in the middle of the quiet study area. I came just in time, and we waited for our three partners for upwards 15 minutes—me pacing, waiting for any of the group meeting rooms to open, Emma fixing her gaze on her planner, then peering up to look each time someone passed.
The other group members didn't show.
“So you think that line tells us Charlotte killed her father?” Emma asks as we sit in the library's café instead, resigned that we'll be the only two to show up today.
“Well I'm not saying I knew it the first time I read it,” I say. “But after you get through to the end it makes sense.”
Emma reads over the passage again, mouthing the words, while I take a sip of coffee. There's a part of me that wants to drop the book discussion. It's not like it's that valuable anyway. We're less than half the group, and unless we're going to end up planning everything, there's not much point in just us talking. A masochistic part of me wants to ask about Freddie—her boyfriend from the Sidewinders.
Another part of me's just curious, and wants to know how things or going with The Off Beats, or how her other classes are this semester.
“Yeah, I guess you can make that work,” Emma says, still looking at the page. “Would you mind being the one to say that—I think you could probably explain it better than anyone else.”
“Yeah,” I nod, bobbing my head back down to my own book. “No problem.”
October 2, 2006
Butterton's starting to cool off in a big way, and it really feels like autumn today. I left the dorm in just a thin button-up shirt, and halfway to class, the cold winds were letting me know the time had already come for me to break out my jacket for the season.
Chang's looking warm enough in his hoody, though, when I find him sitting in a corner of The Lighthouse. The place is busy enough that we've taken to having whichever one of us gets there first just find an open table and wait for the other to show up and call. “Getting cold out, huh?” he says.
“No shit,” I reply, snatching a napkin from his tray and blowing my nose into it. “So how's it going, man?”
“Pretty good,” Chang says. I got a date for this weekend.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah,” he says, mouth full of pizza. “Taking Claire to the movies Saturday night.”
“Is that right? Good for you.” I unwrap my turkey sandwich from the deli. “Don't tell me you're taking the shuttle there, though.”
“Why do you say that?”
I relied on Taylor 's shuttles a good bit last year. It worked well enough for trips to the grocery store or the mall. “That shuttles never on time. You've got to plan to go two shuttles early if you don't want to miss the start of the movie. And then, be ready to wait at least an hour on the way back.”
“No shit.” Chang shakes his head and sips from his soda. “Guess we could walk or something. Could be kind of romantic, right? And it's only a mile or so away.”
“Chang, you're borrowing my car?”
“You sure?”
Dad warned me against loaning the car out. I can't imagine he'd really mind with Chang, though. “I'm not having a buddy of mind walk a girl to the movies. Just let me know when you need the keys.”
October 3, 2006
I can tell from the moment she walks into class that Emma's not in a good mood. From what I've seen, she doesn't have a lot of friends in the class, so it's not unusual for her to keep to herself. But today, she takes a seat farther to the back of the room than usual, and doesn't pull out her book and notebook and everything the way she always does, instead crossing her arms and leaning forward on them, staring straight ahead at the chair in front of her.
Things aren't much better after class. We had talked about corralling our group then, to figure out what happened at our last meeting, and figure out another meeting time. When Hancock lets us go, though, Emma doesn't make any move to leave. I go back in the room, close to her, signaling our group members over, calling out to the guy who tries to leave.
Emma doesn't do any of the talking so it's up to me. There are murmurings of apology about missing the last meeting. Samantha just rolls her eyes. The only thing we really get out of this talk is setting up another meeting, Friday afternoon. No one writes it down, though, and I half expect it will be the same thing all over again.
My attention isn't really on the group project, though, so much as Emma. I wait for her to get up and start moving before I make any move to leave.
“You all right?” I ask her, once we're out in the hall.
“I'm fine.”
“It's just—you don't seem fine.”
“Okay.”
She picks up her pace and, I walk faster to keep up with her as we go outside. “Well come on, do you want to tell me about it?”
“Why would I talk to you?”
“Because—I guess because we're friends.”
She looks at me, then back straight ahead. “We haven't been friends for a long time, Preston .”
“What's that mean?”
“You never talk to me in class—or even if it's only the two of us in a group meeting. All you want to talk about is class.”
“I thought that's all you wanted to talk about,” I say. I almost walk right into a guy and have to sidestep him at the last instant as I try to keep up with her. “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you—”
“You don't have anything to do with this.”
“Okay, then what is it?”
Emma sighs. “If you must know, Freddie's been cheating on me. Last night, his buddy was stupid enough to post pictures on Facebook. And I saw them before Freddie could get them down.”
“I'm sorry Emma.”
“Whatever. I knew it was going on.”
“Well still, that sucks.”
“What would you know about it?” Emma turns quickly heading straight into the library. I could follow, but the prospects of making a scene aren't too enticing. Besides, I'm probably the last person she wants to talk to about this topic.
I scratch back of my head, watching her disappear inside.October 4, 2006
“Then she just walked away. And I feel really bad about it,” I say as I type in the corrections for this week's issue of the paper.
“Why didn't you follow after her then?” Sam asks.
“Well would you? I mean, the reason she was so upset was for the same reason we split up.”
“No, I wouldn't have followed her,” Sam says, leaning back in his chair. “But I also wouldn't have felt bad, so it's a whole different story. If Ireally cared about a girl—wanted to console her and all—I would've talked to her more.”
“Sometimes a woman needs space,” Teri says from the center table of the office, where she's doing proofreading the sports section.
“But,” Sam breaks in. “If you're trying to get with a woman, it's a fact that your best opportunity is to strike when they're emotionally vulnerable.”
“That's bullshit,” Teri says.
“And it doesn't apply to the situation,” I say, flipping to the next page of edits. “I'm not trying to ‘get with' Emma.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. She's my ex, and I just still care about her as a person. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Yes.”
Teri exhales loudly. “Just because Preston has some integrity, and actually cares about people doesn't mean you have to give him a hard time.”
Sam taps his pencil against his desk, leaning back forward, toward his computer screen. “Speaking of a hard time, anyone else get a look at this Albert Parsons letter to the editor? It's hard just making sense of this thing.”October 5, 2006
I yawn, slumping down the fold out chair in our common room while Mike and Dave play a basketball game on the X-Box. “So FYI guys, I've got Pepper coming in this weekend.”
“This weekend, huh?” Dave says. “Weren't going to give me any more notice?”
“Was one of those things—it was on and off and on again. Anyway, you mind crashing out here the next couple nights?”
“Eh, I suppose you need to get laid,” Dave says, just as Mike's player on the screen spins around his and dunks the ball in.
Mike shrugs. “As long as someone in the suite's getting some.”
“Might not be the only one having a good weekend,” I say. “Chang's got a date Saturday night.”
“Is that right?”
“Mm hmm. Friend of Emma's actually.”
“Ain't that a kick in the nuts,” Mike says.
“Presto's way over that,” Dave comes to defense. “Ain't that right?”
“That's right,” I agree. “So Mike, how long's it been since you've seen Pepper?”
“Not since summer. Long distance is bad enough, but she's been all stressed studying for the MCATs. Now that the test's over, feels like I'll finally get my girlfriend back.”
“That's why I'm saying, now's not the time for a man to be tied down in a relationship. College is the time to get what you can and keep on moving,” Dave says.
“Right,” I chuckle. “This from the guy who's sitting right in that same spot, writing love ballads last week.”
“Oh!” Mike exclaims.
Dave shakes his head. “You oughta know what that's about, English major. The author and the narrator of a written work don't have to be the same.”
“Mmm hmm. So what's the authorial intent then?”
“You still don't know?” Dave asks, his player on the screen throwing in a jump shot. “It's all about what happens after the show.”October 6, 2006
“Hey Mom, what's up?” I say, answering my cell phone on the walk home from my last class of the week.
“Nothing much, honey? How are you?”
“Doing all right.”
“How do you like your classes this semester?”
“They're good. It's been a lot of work, but it's going well so far,” I say, passing the Student Center . I consider stopping by the Window office to see if I have any messages, then think better of it. I know once I'm in the office I'll figure out something I should be doing, or should have already done, and I'll kill the whole afternoon there. Now, I'm more in the mood to get back to the suite and relax, maybe do a little homework, and make plans for tonight. “And how's everything down in Florida ?”
“Well, that's actually why I'm calling you,” she says. “I've been thinking, and I'd like to have you come here for Thanksgiving.”
“Ah Mom, I don't know. I mean, I only get like three days off for that break.”
“ Preston , I didn't get you here for Spring Break, and I didn't see you this summer. You can't keep your poor mother waiting here forever.”
“It's not like that. It's just that it's a big trip, and it's hard to just commit to something like that.”
“Well that's why I'm calling you now,” she says. “Just think about it for a few weeks, and then let me know for sure, all right?”
“All right, I guess that's fair.” I mouth a quick ‘thank you' to the girl walking into the dorm ahead of me who holds the door for me to get in.
“Well good. Okay, I've gotta run, honey. I'll talk to you soon, all right?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too. Bye now.”
October 7, 2006
“So Mike tells me you're some kind of a big shot at the school paper,” Pepper says, leaning, half falling off the couch in our common room, bottle of Smirnoff in a precarious position in her hand.
“Yeah, I'm the news editor,” I say, as Mike returns from the bathroom and scoops Pepper up in his arms, sitting her upright, then keeping one arm over her shoulders.
“And what does that mean, exactly?” she asks.
“Means this guy spends way too much time in that damn office,” Mike, popping off the cap of his beer with his free thumb.
I smile and nod. “Yeah, a lot of times it does mean that. But it's fun too. Work with a lot of good people, and it's kind of cool to figure out what's going on around campus and get to tell everyone else about it.”
“And does a lot happen at a school like Taylor College ?” Pepper asks.
I shrug. “ Taylor has it's moments.”
The door swings open and in walks Chang. He's not alone, though, as Claire comes in behind him. “Well now the party's starting,” Mike says.
“Hey everybody,” Chang smiles. “This is Claire. Claire, this is Mike and, I presume, Pepper.” Pepper smiles and nods, slumping a little before Mike catches her. “And, of course, you know Preston .”
“Hey Preston ,” Claire says with a little wave.
Soon, we have drinks out for everyone. Mike challenges to Chang to a game on NBA Live, and in a minute they're at play. Pepper leans against Mike's shoulder, watching the game, the hint of a smile on her face.
“So,” Claire leans back to talk to me. “Emma mentioned you guys are working on a project together.”
“Is that right?”
“That's what she said.”
“Well yeah, that's true. What else did she say about it, though?”
“You really want to know?”
“I'm just curious.”
“Maybe she is too.”
I turn to Claire, who turns her eyes from the TV to me as she takes a sip of her Smirnoff. “What's that supposed to mean?” I ask.
She only smirks and shrugs, before patting Chang on the leg, and excusing herself to the bathroom.