The rest of the day continues this way, but thankfully my professor gives a detailed lecture that I lose myself in for an hour. I don’t look up from my note taking, but I can feel the stares from my peers. After, I grab a premade sandwich from the student union for dinner and retreat to my dorm.
Thursday is equally bad, and it occurs to me that I may be forever trapped in this hellish vortex of attention and have to drop out of college and go live in some remote part of the world without Internet access. I will live in a hut and forage for berries. Again, I think about the possibilities Amazon gives me. I can order everything I might ever need. Total isolation is doable. I could live like that.
By Friday, I am just plain mad. Seething and stoic, I go to my Social Psych class. I radiate stay-away vibes, but this does not stop people from looking at me way too much. All eyes turn to Esben when he walks in, and I see him scan the room. He stops when he sees me, his face brightening and hopeful as he starts to walk my way. Esben likes eye contact and silent communication? Fine. Two can play at that. I shoot him a glare full of rage, and he stops in his tracks. The chatter in the large room lulls, but right now I don’t care if everyone sees the rejection I hurl at Esben. His face grows worried, confused. Then apologetic. But my expression does not change, and when the professor walks in, I sharply pull my eyes from his and refuse to look back. Without words, I have told him and everyone watching what I need to.
So there. That is that. This is over.
My steely aura does a good job protecting me from further comments, and I get through my next class, pick up yet another care package from Simon at my PO box, and walk back to my dorm without harassment.
I should feel better now that I’ve asserted myself and shut down some of the drama surrounding the video. Instead, I feel like crap. Utter crap.I got what I wanted, right?No Esben, no connection, no one talking to me. World order has been restored.
This should feel better than it does.
I hear a familiar voice call out my name. “Allison! About time! I’ve been sitting here for twenty-five minutes, and I gotta pee like nobody’s business.”
I jerk my head up and stop in place. My heart soars; my emptiness washes away. “Steffi!”
Perched on the front step of my dorm is my best friend, looking for all the world like a rock star in her red leather pants and sleeveless black shirt. She’s got a small suitcase next to her. I can’t tell if I want to burst into tears or start laughing.
She stands and opens her arms wide. “Come to Mama!”
I run the short distance between us and hug her fiercely. “What are you doing here? Oh my God!”
“What am I...doing...here? Right now, I’m trying...to breathe...”
I release my grip on her and step back, laughing. “Sorry.” I shake my head in disbelief.
Steffi tosses her hair and puts her hands on my shoulders. “I. Have. To. Pee.”
“Okay, okay!” I unlock the front door, take her to the ladies’ room and then to my suite, all the while hurling questions at her.
“For real, what are you doing here? I cannot believe this!” There is genuine happiness flooding from me right now. I automatically set the latest care package on top of the others in the spare room. When I turn back to Steffi, she’s making quite the face. “What is it?” I ask.
She gestures behind me. “Um, are you building an oversize game of Jenga in there? What the hell is up with the boxes?”
“Oh.” She’s got a point. The box tower is a little weird looking. “They’re from Simon.”
“I see.” She flashes a curious smile. “We’ll get back to that later. I did not take a red-eye to Boston and then rent a car to drive a million hours because you have a hoarding problem.”
We both sit down on the couch. “So, why come? And why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugs. “I wanted to surprise you.”
I’m still flabbergasted that she’s in front of me. “But, but...how did you afford a ticket and a car?”
“Do you have any idea how much money my scholarship gives me to buy books and stuff? Way too much. I’m not buying every single thing on the syllabi. You know how it is. Half the time, we don’t use a book for more than a day. So, I traded in unnecessary books for a trip.”
“I’m very glad you did.” I hug her again. As I do, I can’t help but search for the scar that is imprinted on her shoulder blade. A reminder of the challenging childhood she has survived. “And we need to feed you. You’re skin and bones.”
“And boobs! Don’t forget the boobs!” She smushes her chest against mine, and I laugh.
“I could not forget the boobs,” I assure her as I sit back. “I can’t wait to hear everything that’s going on with you! You hungry? What do you want to do for dinner?”
“Tequila,” she states.
“Could we have a food component, too?”
“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
