Between Semesters

 

Between Semesters

 

I picked up the mug and before I could even form the thought of throwing it I was watching it fly across the room narrowly missing the head of my startled roommate.

 

I don’t remember all of the events that led up to my leaving William and Mary the first time. There is a good reason for the memory gap: I was nuts. At least that’s what the college psychiatrist hinted at when he suggested I might want to take a break.

 

I do remember the event that precipitated my initial visit to the campus psychiatric services. It was a fight with my roommate Susan Doherty. The disagreement climaxed with my hurling my Phi Mu mug at Susan’s head as she stared at me from what she probably thought was a safe distance.

 

I looked to friends to help me with my madness but found I had no friends.

 

“Chris, I don’t know what’s happening to me. I can’t concentrate. I feel angry all the time. I lose control.” I had run to catch up with Christine Cheney as she walked across the Sunken Gardens that ran through the middle of the campus.

 

“You just need to get control of yourself, Brenda. Susan is scared of you. She told me she is moving into another dorm.” Chris stopped and reached into her back and pulled out a book and shoved it into my hand. “Read this. It might help.” Then she turned and continued across the gardens leaving me staring at the book in my hands. “I Never Promised You a Rose Garden”.

 

I stood there in disbelief. “Is this all you have for me, Chris?” But Chris was gone.

 

Things happened quickly. A few days later most of my possessions had been packed into a footlocker and moved into the attic of Chandler Hall. My wardrobe of jeans and t-shirts fit into a single suitcase. I held the suitcase in my lap in the back of the MG John Brennan drove. Kate Owens sat in the passenger seat. We were on our way to Byrd Airport where I would catch a flight to West Palm Beach.

 

When I got there Aunt Pearl met me. “You look terrible. Your hair is a mess. When did you comb it last?” She went on without waiting for an answer. “Look at your clothes. I sent you off to William and Mary with nice looking clothes and you come home looking like a field hand.” I didn’t tell her the ladylike dresses she had made for me were crammed into a trunk with my typewriter, clock radio, books, bedspreads and all the other necessities we had assembled.

 

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

 

I had things to say. I wanted to say, “Stop fussing at me. It’s not my fault. Can’t you understand? No one understands. What happened?” But I just shook my head and finally she turned and walked away just like Chris had leaving me standing there with my suitcase.

 

“Aren’t you coming?” I nodded and followed her out of the terminal and into the parking lot.

Reviews

[Vanilla]

You use words with such economy and you have a talent for creating scenes. Nice!