I turned to the side and blinked my eyes, noting the large, red numbers on the clock. Five A.M. had come quickly. My eyes felt swollen and scratchy. It was then that I realized my dreams had been cruel. There would be no miracles, and my father was still gone.
The finale of the worst experience of my life hadn’t ended with what was supposed to be my closure.
I clambered from my bed and opened my laptop, determined to finish my term paper by eight. The screen lit up, and I peered over at Beth, her head buried under her pillow. My fingers tapped out the next cross-reference and soon began a muted symphony of clicking against the keyboard.
The paragraphs formed swiftly and I finished by a quarter after seven. With a click of the mouse, the printer lurched and buzzed with its new task. I looked over at Beth, knowing a newspaper press wouldn’t wake her. I gathered my toiletries to make my daily commute down the hall to the showers.
Red-faced and sufficiently exfoliated, I tightened my robe and walked down the hall. While brushing my teeth over the quaint sink in our room, Beth sat up in bed and stretched out her arms. Her chin-length auburn hair was smashed in some places, and stuck out in others.
“Good morning,” she chirped. Then reality set in. “Oh…I mean….”
“It’s okay, Beth. It is a nice morning.” Glancing out the window, I noticed the sky was looking bleaker from the onset, but I wasn’t going to mention that.
Beth smiled and began making her bed, setting her stuffed animals haphazardly in front of her frilly pillow.
“Are you going to the game Saturday?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
She usually invited me to go, and at times insisted I go, always in her cheery, pleasant voice. Beth hailed from the south. She worked hard and had been awarded numerous scholarships to make her escape from the small Oklahoma town she called home. Her side of the room was covered in trophies, sashes and crowns from the numerous pageants she’d entered and won. She wasn’t the typical beauty queen. Although beautiful, she seemed very introverted—a trait she was trying desperately to break away from. She explained to me the day we moved in that the pageants were a necessary evil for tuition.
“Well, I’ll give you a break this week if you decide to opt out. I’d understand with finals and…everything else,” she conceded without looking in my direction.
“I appreciate it.”
I pulled my hair back into a small burst of ponytail at the nape of my neck, looking like a bouquet of wheat shooting out from the back of my head. I sighed at my closet and gave myself a pep talk before dressing in the inevitable layers: one after another; bra, tank top, undershirt, sweater, socks, jeans, boots, coat—and not always in that order.
With my backpack bursting at the seams, I pulled up the handle and angled the bag onto its wheels.
“I’m going early for coffee.”
Beth smiled as she booted up her laptop. “Good luck getting that thing across the ice.”
I stepped out of the elevator into the hallway wondering if Beth was right about the weather. I held my breath and pushed the door open, waiting for the freezing temperature to sting my face. The wind blew the heavy glass door against me, working against the already pitiful pressure I had managed with one hand. Using my arm and shoulder, I forced the door open and gasped at the frigid burst of air burning my face.
I stumbled into the dining hall the student populace affectionately and appropriately dubbed “The Ratty”, and brushed off my coat. Shuffling across the muted tile floor, I made a bee-line for the coffee pot. Dark, brown liquid created the steam that would help me function that early in the morning. Out of habit, I reached for my favorite hazelnut creamer and two packets of Splenda.
“That stuff is death in a package, you know,” Kim said from behind me.
“You sound like my mother,” I grumbled.
“I’m surprised you came today. Sucks that your dad died during finals.”
Kim was never one for holding back or mincing words. I usually found it very refreshing, but I hadn’t had time to brace myself before the words left her lips, and my ribs wrenched in response.
“Yeah.”
Kim watched me for a moment, and then shoved a blueberry corn muffin at my face.
“Breakfast?”
I shook my head, uncrossing my eyes from looking at the muffin. “No, thanks. I need to get to class.”
“I’ll walk with you,” she said, pulling the muffin back.
Kim pulled a faded, red plaid hunter’s cap complete with ear covers over her short brown hair. If I thought I could laugh, I would have.
“Oh, Kim,” I said, attempting to make my voice sound cautious.
“What?” she asked, stopping in her tracks.
“Nothing,” I shook my head, deciding to leave it alone.