Archives:
August 19-August 25, 2007

August 19, 2007

“Now when Preston was little, he would get so upset if he lost a game,” Grandma starts.

“You know Grandma, we don't really need to get into that.”

Mom and Dad laugh, and Avery joins in, a second later than everyone else. We sit around my grandmother's kitchen table, sitting in pairs to play Scrabble in teams of two—Teri and I, my mother and Avery, Dad and Grandma. Halfway through the game, Teri and I are leading.

“I remember one time when I had to take your brother aside,” Dad says, “and tell him to let you win a game of horse, because you were getting so bent out of shape over losing.”

“No one likes to lose when they're kids.”

“That's true,” Teri chimes in. “And I remember my folks having to have the same talks with me when I was younger. Of course, there's about nine years between me and my brother, so it was easier for me to figure it out on my own.”

“Those were fine times,” Grandma says, sipping her ice water. “We're never all together like we were back then.”

“But that's what things like weddings are for,” Dad says. “You get the old gang back together, and remember the old times, celebrate what's to come.”

Mom leans to me and Teri, “I told you—if he didn't get to make a speech at the wedding he'd do anything he could to make one another time.”

“I'm just imparting some words of wisdom for the kids,” Dad goes on. “But that's what family is. You come together when you can. You make the most of what's left of you, and look ahead to welcoming some new faces.” He tips his head to Teri.

Avery kind of clears his throat and lays some tiles on the board. The scorekeeper, I count it up and update the count.

“Well I'm glad to be a part of this weekend with you all,” Teri says. Gathering some of our tiles in her hand. I move my head, trying to see which ones she picked up. “But to keep Preston here from getting out of shape, I'm going to have to make sure we win this game.” With that, she lays down our tiles for a triple word score, as Mom laughs, Dad claps his hands, and I shake my head, turning back to the scorecard.

August 20, 2007

I set my tower fan down by my TV, and a box full of books and DVDs.

“You're sure your roommate's not bringing some of this stuff?” Teri asks, folding a pair of my socks and placing them in my suitcase. I was content to just stuff them all in there, but Teri insisted on folding everything, despite my assurances that the clothes wouldn't remain neat when I tossed them intro drawers in my room.

“I couldn't tell you,” I say, smacking my hands together, knocking the dust from the fan off them. “All I know about the guy is that his name is Cameron Dode. That and that he doesn't check his school e-mail over the summer.”

“You tried e-mailing him?”

“Thought it would be good to connect, you know, at least to see what he was bringing, like you said.”

Teri nods, picking up another pair socks, just as the doorbell rings.

“You expecting someone?”

“Nope,” I say with a shrug. I peer out my window and am a bit surprised to see Valerie's Viper, parked next Teri's Cavalier in the driveway.

I think I could ignore Valerie at the door. We're the only ones home, so eventually, I'm sure she would just go. But then, I still haven't explained that whole story to Teri, and I have feeling she would demand more of an explanation than I care to give. “I'll be back in just a minute,” I say, heading out of my room.

Valerie stands alone on the side of the screen door, in sunglasses and a kind of shiny black tank top. I descend the stairs and she straightens when I come into her view, halfway down the stairs.

“Hey Preston .”

“Valerie,” I say with a nod, arriving at the foot of the stairs.

“How are you doing?”

“I'm good.” I say, scratching the back of my head.

“And your brother's wedding—how was that?” she asks, trying a smile.

“It went well.”

Valerie looks down, then back up at me. “Well, I'm going back to school in a couple days. I just wanted to stop in—you know—and say thank you for everything you did this summer.”

“Yeah. Well, you know, it was my job.”

“But it was more than that.” Valerie pauses, brushing her hair from her forehead. “Anyway, I don't mean to keep you. But thank you again.” She glances over her shoulder, back toward the road. “I guess I can let you get on with your day. But take care, Preston . I hope you have a good year at college.”

“Yeah. You too,” I say, looking at my feet on the ground. I scratch the back of my head again, before looking back up, to find Valerie just standing there, looking at me. I think I see her bottom lip shake for a second, but she steadies it, and then nods, before she turns to go.

I turn around to head back up the stairs, and find Teri standing at the top of them. “So what was that all about?” she asks with a smirk.

August 21, 2007

Teri and I each hit the road for Taylor just after grabbing lunch with Matt. My car is packed to capacity, hers with just a couple bags, as she already dropped off most of what she'll need at her apartment before.

Rolling down the highway, I try to imagine what this year will be like. It's going to be weird not living with Dave at school, and I wonder if we're going to hang out—if we'll really even see each other. We're still friends and all, but after a summer of playing with and living with the band, I imagine he'll be even more engrained in that group, and I'm not sure where I fit into that.

Besides Dave being gone, I don't know what it'll be like not to have Mike there, shooting the little foam basketball in our common room, or shooting the shit with me when I get up early. I haven't heard from him since I left last spring, and I don't know if he took one of the offers to play ball in Europe , or got a regular job in the States.

And of course there's Chang. For as long as we've been friends, and as close as we are some senses, there's a whole side of his life where my knowledge is limited at best. I don't really know Brad, or what their relationship is like. I'm not sure if that's intentional—and if so, whose part its intentional on. Living in the same room bound us together to an extent last year. Without even that to fall back on, I wonder if I'll even see him.

I think about The Window. At this time tomorrow, I imagine I'll be in the office, tinkering with the computers, refreshing my memory on all of the different processes and procedures, making sure everything's up and running before the staff returns. I think about the responsibility of heading up this group, and wonder if I'm really ready for it. I know Sam and Teri trusted me, and I was confident at the time. I suppose once I'm in the groove of things, it will all work out. But for now, I can't deny that taking over the paper is a little daunting.

That's not to mention classes. I'm staring my junior year now, taking mostly upper level courses in my major, that I'm sure are going to mean more reading and more writing, and more difficult material all around.

It's all just start of the year jitters, I'm sure. I felt them some last year, and all the more as I was headed into my first semester at Taylor . I rub my forehead, changing lanes to follow Teri in passing an eighteen wheeler. A green sign at the side of the road indicates that we're 98 miles from Butterton. We're halfway there.

August 22, 2007

“Hey, Preston ?”

I look up from computer in the Window office, to the door.

“It's me, Nick—we had that class with Jones freshman year.” I do remember him—it's hard not to remember the guy who, second only to Jones, did the most talking in class.

“Yeah, Nick, how's it going?”

“I'm good,” he says smiling widely. He's got a pretty dark tan, and he's bleached the tips of his brown hair white. “I was just talking to Teri, and when she told me her friend Preston Burns was setting up the Window office, it just clicked in my head who you were. So you're heading up the newspaper?”

“That I am.” Something doesn't sit right with me about the way he said ‘her friend.'

“That's awesome. Had you ever worked with the paper before?”

“Well yeah,” I grin, “I sort of needed some experience before I could be editor in chief.”

“Cool, cool,” he says, picking up a stress ball from the desk nearest the door and tossing it up and down in his hand. “Well this is my first time doing anything with the Student Association—but now I'm the Business Director, and I can assure you we're going to do everything we can to make this a good year for your group.”

“Well good.” It is possible Nick's idealistic enough to look past the problems SA and The Window has had in the past, or that he's genuinely oblivious to them, and in either case, is going to be an ally to the paper on the SA board. Maybe it's just Sam's words echoing in my head, though, but I don't quite trust him.

“Yep, right from when my buddy Tucker recruited me for this job, he was telling me that it's all about looking after the interests of the students. So you can bet that I'm going to give this job my all. And if you need anything, you come see me, all right?”

“I'll keep that in mind,” I say with a nod.

Nick gives the ball a final toss, behind his back, before catching it with the same hand. He raises an eyebrow at me, then sets the ball back down and heads out.

August 23, 2007

I rub my palm over Teri's upper arm, my arm over her shoulder as we sit on her couch in the glow of the television screen.

“You want more popcorn?” Teri asks.

“Yeah, maybe. I can get it, though.”

“Don't worry about it,” she goes on, before I can protest any further, popping up from the couch and heading toward the kitchen. She has to turn, sidling past the boxes I have stacked in her way. I've kept some of my stuff packed in my car, but I've been worried about it just sitting in the parking lot over a period of nights, and moved more stuff in here when we came back this evening.

“This place seems a little more cramped than it did last year,” I call out as Teri makes her way back into the room, past the boxes.

“Yeah, we have some excess baggage at the moment,” Teri says, putting a piece of popcorn in her mouth, then handing the bowl off to me as she sits back down.

“Is that all I am to you?”

“Eh, you're a decent pillow too,” she says, nestling into my chest.

“So I don't think I mentioned it, but our new SA business director stopped by the office yesterday.”

“Nick?” Teri asks, adjusting herself so she's lying on the couch. “He's nice.”

“He's kind of a douchebag.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don't know,” I say putting a handful of popcorn in my mouth. “He's just sort of a know it all. And he was kind of condescending when he came to see me.”

“Don't talk with your mouthful,” Teri says, reaching over me to grab a handful of popcorn for herself. “And he stopped by the office just to be nice. What SA officers have done that before?”

I finish chewing before I go on, “I guess that is an improvement.”

“And, he was nothing but nice to me. So why don't you give him a shot before you judge him for being a part of SA.”

“I wasn't judging him based on that.”

“Are you judging me based on that?”

“I was judging you based on your rack.”

“Excuse me?” Teri says, sitting up.

“I said you look pretty tonight,” I try. “And smart.”

“That's what I thought,” she says, putting what's left of her handful in her mouth, and scooting a bit away from me on the couch.

August 24, 2007

I lean back in the grass, swatting at a fly as it buzzes by my nose. “These bugs are killing me,” I say swinging at it again, as it begins a second pass.

Teri crunches on a carrot stick, sitting at my side unconcerned. “I think we should skip heading back to the office,” she says, looking up at the sky. “Days this nice aren't meant for work.”

I plug what's left of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my mouth. “I would second that.” We headed to the Student Center around 10 this morning, and after a couple hours of work, decided to break for lunch. It's 75 and sunny out, and were it not for the bugs, I really would be content to stay out here all afternoon.

“Every day should be like this,” Teri goes on, lying back, biting off another piece of carrot. “Good weather, no rush to get back to work, or to go to class.”

“Yeah, college would be pretty sweet if it was summer and no there were no classes all the time.”

“We could just move to Hawaii or something, and get jobs. That would take care of the weather and the classes.”

“It's an idea.”

Teri stretches her arms out, past her head. “So what do you have left to do in the office?”

I shrug. “Not a real lot, actually. I drew up some flyers to get people to come to the first meeting. Got myself reacquainted with the software. Sent out our publication schedule to the printer. I think we're all set.” I start to roll up the trash from my lunch into a ball of paper and plastic. “Good timing too. I'll wrap up there today, and tomorrow I can focus on moving into the room.”

“And I'll be there to help.”

“You're not going to be too busy?”

“I'll have work to do. Nothing else that's too pressing, though. And I want to see this new room. And meet the new roommate.”

I nod, tearing a blade of grass from the ground. “As do I.” I reach over slowly as Teri's still lying down, looking upward. I take the blade, and tickle it under her nose.

“Stop,” she giggles, slapping at me.

“What?”

“You know what you're doing,” she says, sitting up.

“I was just sitting here.”

Teri rips up a handful of grass and tosses it on me.

“Well now it's on,” I say, rolling onto her, pinning down her arms as she laughs, kicking her legs.

August 25, 2007

“All right, it's a step up when you get to the doorway here,” Teri says, holding the door to Smith Hall open.

“I know,” I say, lumbering up the path, my little cube refrigerator in my arms. I step up, climbing inside, on this, our fourth trip carrying my stuff into the room. We can probably get the rest of the car unpacked in one more trip.

Walking down the hall, I recall the first time I moved into this building. I was with my folks, my father doing everything he could to direct traffic. I remember him looking at Dave, a little dubious about his poster of two women in bed, and his Karl Marx t-shirt. I remember my mother just kept looking around her, taking in everything about the dorm, the campus, the town.

I remember moving out of Smith. It was just my father and I then. I remember thinking that I was likely walking out of the building for the last time, not having any reason to think they'd change the building set up, and have upperclassmen live there.

A dorm's a dorm, I suppose, and there's not much significant about moving into Smith. Nonetheless, there's a familiarity about the place that's reassuring now. I'm moving in with a stranger, with all of my old buddies going their separate ways. Nonetheless, after walking down this very hallway a thousand times, I at least feel like there's a part of this that's comfortable, and isn't new—some sign that I'm not the freshman I was, moving in two years ago.

I set down the fridge just inside, amidst the boxes, suitcases and garbage bags, filled with my stuff. I'm sweating in the late summer heat, and from all of the moving, and I run the back of my hand over my forehead. Teri stands at my side, casting a book bag haphazardly in the center of the floor. “Home sweet home, huh?”