A Heart to Heart

Two young ladies have crossed each other's path in a major way, and though they became bestfiends in a matter of a semester, they find out at the end of it all they hardly knew one another.

A Heart to Heart: A Peak Inside Pt.1

My first semester as an RA has come to a close and all my girls, except for a couple, have gone their respective ways for Christmas break; including my roommate, Athena. We have only known each other for about four months, but our comradery would evince a few years. I remember peeking out of my bedroom window spectating as she pulled into the driveway. Most of my girls were accompanied by family or friends, but Athena arrived �" in a taxi �" by herself. With pity and concern I thought, “She must be oblivious to the kind of characters native to Spokane.” However, after becoming well acquainted with her, I realized even the grimiest scoundrel’s heart would soften to putty at the slightest glimpse of her ocean blue, M.A.C. False Lash mascara accented eyes (the only make-up you could ever catch her wearing). That explains the taxi driver wafting his hand towards her through the passenger side window graciously as if to say, “Don’t worry about the tab!” She walked towards the house somewhat coyly, but her face was at ease as she mouthed lyrics to some song in her head. She had two suitcases: one bursting at the seams with books and journals, and the other was modestly packed with clothes. To equate the two would be fallacious; the change of clothes was only to appease social norms. Her most valuable possessions resided in the other suitcase.

Even now as I survey her side of the room, though empty, I can feel the remnants of her clutter filling the void. Her clothes stored orderly in her suitcase (unlike the rest of the girls in the house, or the world for that matter), but her books and journals found rest abroad. Furniture is limited to a shared nightstand between both of our beds, so her books and journals honestly had no place else besides their random arrangement around the room.

Athena read everything from Plato to Jane Austen, and faithfully journaled in nothing except black Moleskin journals with no lines. Her penmanship was still flawless and unhurried, yet (these two words make it a little repetitive) every thought seemed to make it to the page just as she intended. The depth of understanding she possessed at twenty-two was uncanny. Occasionally I would peruse through her books and writings with hopes of gleaning something from her ponderings, and I was never left disappointed. There was one journal, however, that was never left unattended. Most spectators would be blind to the distinction between this journal and the rest of her collection, but I noticed the others had marks of distress in the top left-hand corner where she had repeatedly clipped her favorite pen, and this one did not. I often wondered if her eye fancied that particular journal intentionally due to the exclusivity of the content, or if it was just coincidental. Either way, before she left, she gave me that journal and asked me to read it and journal for myself as I read through it. Eager as I was to read it, for I had seen her write in it this morning before I dropped her off at the airport, I opened it to the bookmarked page and read it first:

“A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other...every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the hearts nearest it!” When I first read this in high school, I didn’t know if Dickens’ was referring to intimacy or proximity. I have since considered them to be equally matched.
Close, Yes! Cherished, indeed!
Near and dear, invisible seam.
Yet a schism, blank and barren,
Shone more opaque than these.
~A.N. Stevens

​I almost forgot how compelling her poetry was, and I do recall her reading A Tale of Two Cities the other day. Maybe I should give it a read and see what she was getting at. I will surely miss having her around in the spring... (To be continued!)

A Heart to Heart: A Peak Inside Pt. 2

[August 20, 2014
As I turn to a new chapter in my life it is befitting for me to began a new journal to record all that takes place here. At present, 'here' is more of a blank canvas for me, and with the broad strokes of each passing day it will began to have meaning. In other words, I have what may be considered the epitome of an open mind: I have no plans or expectations. All I know is that I could not withstand another day at that house. What ever the future holds for me will surely be more palatable than what lies behind me. I love my grandma dearly, but ever since my father was deployed she has been worrisome. She has always been a rigid, strong willed woman, and I respect that, but she has taken it to a new level these past few months. If my mom...]

"Can I get ya someth'n to drink?" Asked the flight attendant. She was a loud individual who was either having a really good day, or genuinely loved her job. She was your prototypical southern bell: beautiful face, natural pink lips, nicely styled brunette hair, a curvaceous figure, and a pair of pearl earrings. Athena was oblivious to the flight attendant until the man sitting next to her innocently tapped her on the shoulder. She put her pen down, removed her headphones, and looked to the flight attendant. Before she could fix her lips to respond the flight attendant smiled and said, "Darlin', your eyes are beautiful!"

Athena blushed lightly as multiple heads began to turn in response to the flight attendants booming voice. Athena replied, "My mother gave them to me!"

The man sitting next to Athena looked over to judge for himself. As soon as his eyes met hers he smiled and nodded as if to signify he was in agreement with the flight attendant. This was no strange occurrence to Athena, for she quite frequently received complements on behalf of her eyes. They were pleasantly large and ocean blue; the sort of ocean blue that can only be captured from the vantage point of a satellite, and it is precisely to that vantage that her eyes teleport you. As if that wasn't surreal enough, they were found on a flawless face. It is plausible to deduce that a blemish has never met her skin given the purity of her complexion. Just below her cheeks sank two dimples deep enough to consider them holes. It is ironic that a young lady possessing her degree of beauty owns it with such humility and appraises her appearance of so little importance.

"Your mama must be a beautiful woman herself," said the flight attendant, "and your father is a lucky man to have two beautiful women like y'all to call his."

Athena was silent. She granted another smile and shrugged her shoulders not knowing how to respond to the kind words of the flight attendant. In efforts of turning the attention away from herself at once, Athena responded with a smile, "I'll take some water, please."

"Here you are, darlin'! Just take the bottle."
"Thank you!...Beth-Ann is it?"
"Yes, darlin'! Bethany Ann Taylor; three first names. My mama gave them to me! May she rest in peace."
"I'm sorry about that," she said with lenity.
"It's alright," she gestured with her hand searching for Athena's name.
"Athena! Athena Nicole Stevens."
"The Lord giveth and The Lord taketh away."

The flight attendant continued down the isle to serve the rest of the passengers. Athena sank back in her seat for a moment with her eyes fixed on the head rest in front of her. Her gaze was piercing. For a moment her breathing was aberrant and her eyes began to glisten with the polish of premature tears. She swallowed what felt like a golf ball. Then, she closed her eyes as she took a deep breathe and when she opened them her heart and eyes returned to their natural state. She placed her headphones back on her head, picked up her pen, and continued to write.

[...were here, she would probably tell me to give grandma some grace. I know that's what she would say. Ever since she passed, my faculty to feel, which is essential to who I have always been, has been critically wounded. To feel anything means feeling the pain, and it is all too heavy for my brittle heart. My grandma told me that Moody would be a great place for me to heal, and though I let her words roll off my shoulders, a small part of me hopes she is right. The breakers of life have fatigued me and I can barely keep my head above the water. If there is a God in heaven, look at me. Notice the pain that has marred my once true heart. Take heed of my groans and, if your divinity allows, feel my pain. My grandma told me that you are a God of compassion...that sounds so sweet right now.

It is not my own, yet it demands my attention.
My experience is void of its substance, but
my heart is no stranger to its nuisance, since...
what's yours is mine, and mine is yours.
It is not my own, yet I feel its weight.
I walk with a free back; tall and upright.
While my spirit within hunches over from tension
the umbilical cord of your soul feeds me constant affliction
It is not my own, yet I can hear it.
In my tranquil place;
Rest and peace dance without inhibition,
But your groans roar in my ear:
Screams of despair beat its drum with a foul rhythm
It is not my own, but compassion tells me otherwise
It says what's yours is mine, and mine is yours
The distribution of ownership quiets the noise,
lifts the weight, and eases the mind...
-A.N. Stevens]

Author's Note

This is part one of a three part story for my school news paper. Check grammar! Do you think it would hold the attention of a college student? What is your attitude/feelings towards both girls? Also, the brackets in part two signify Athena's POV in her journal.