I nodded. “Brown.” He continued to look at me so I offered more, “Business major.”
The residual frustration from the unwanted cal er melted away once our eyes met. It seemed as if he’d just noticed I’d been crying.
“Are you al right?”
I looked down, picking at my nails. “We buried my father today.” It occurred to me that I had no idea why I was sharing such personal information with a stranger.
“You were close,” Jared said. It was more of a statement than a question.
I waited for the expected pity in his eyes, but there was none. My relief caused me to smile which in turn made a grin turn up one side of his mouth. I noticed then that he had a nice face. It was more than nice, now that it had come to my attention. He was quite attractive, real y….
“Where’s your place?” The cabbie squawked. I peeled my eyes from Jared and pointed in the direction of my dorm. “East Andrews Hal .”
The cab pul ed in, and Jared automatical y stepped out. As soon as his door had shut, mine opened.
“Thank you,” I said.
“It was nice to meet you, Nina.” There was an edge to his words. It went beyond politeness or even sincerity. He spoke the words with conviction.
I nodded and side-stepped toward my dorm. He paused before getting into the cab to smile at me once more, and for the first time in weeks I felt something other than hol ow. I watched the cab pul away and then turned against the wind to walk toward Andrews.
Once inside my room, I noticed my appearance in the mirror and gasped. Good God, it was no wonder that Jared felt compel ed to come to my aide! I looked like a homeless, desperate crack addict overdue for my next fix! My brush ripped through my blonde bob and I pul ed my bangs straight back, pinning them away from my face. I went to the sink and scrubbed away the smeared mascara and streaky foundation.
With a frown, I pul ed my cel phone from my pocket and pressed the speed dial to cal my mother.
“Nina?” she answered.
“Back in my room, Mom.”
She sighed. “Good. You know I don’t like for you to take the bus. Robert could have driven you. Take two of those pil s I gave you today, al right? They’l help you sleep.”
I rol ed my eyes. My mother: the frequent flier of Providence drug stores.
“I’l probably fal asleep the second my head hits the pil ow.” Not the pure truth, but it would do to keep my personal pharmacist at bay.
“Okay, Darling. Sleep wel .”
My dorm room seemed smal er. The white wal s were pitiful y empty on my side. Feeling I was being watched, I peeked across the room at my roommate. Her side of the room was covered in posters of teddy bears and team colors. My decor consisted of an ornamental frame on my night table displaying a picture of me and my parents at high school graduation just a few months before.
“How’s your mom?” Beth asked from under her baby pink comforter.
“She’s…sad.”
“How are you?”
“The same,” I sighed. My conclusive tone seemed to relax Beth, and while I changed into my pajamas I noticed her breathing even out.
I sat on my bed and pul ed myself against the pil ows. My thoughts effortlessly moved toward the last hour. Jared’s grin kept my mind occupied for awhile, but before long my thoughts brought me back to the funeral. I rol ed onto my side and curled into a bal , trying to cry quietly. Relief final y replaced the crushing grief as I slipped out of consciousness.
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 swol en and scratchy.
It was then that I realized my dreams had been cruel. There would be no miracles, and my father was stil 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 pil ow. 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 hal to the showers.
Red-faced and sufficiently exfoliated, I tightened my robe and walked down the hal . 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 fril y pil ow.
“Are you going to the game Saturday?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
She usual y 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 smal Oklahoma town she cal ed 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.