The Brink of Destruction

"Airmail!" is a term college students use when they open their mailboxes and there's nothing but air. Usually it follows the exclamation, "Damn!" Today there was no air mail.

The crowd outside the student post office could only mean that midterm grades had come for those classes that didn't post them in the department. I already knew I'd kept a B in French, but Lit, Calculus and Art History were still question marks.

Wading through the crowd, I twirled in the combination for my box, and sure enough, there was the long white envelope that contained my fate. Well, the most recent twist, anyway.
I tucked it, along with the Domino's Pizza advert, into my backpack and went to look for a deserted area in the student union to absorb the news. A lone black chair, big and cushy, sat empty near the food court, on the other side of the pool tables. I set my backpack on the floor beside it, turned it to face the glass wall looking out on a swath of yellow-flowered bushes, and sank into its depths to read.

"English Literature/C. Anderson. C-." Shit. Not so good. It was the Conrad, I knew I should have gone to the study group when I was having trouble with him. Fuck him and his heart of darkness.

"Calculus 10/D. Hayes. D+." Not a surprise, but still. This was really not going well.

"Art History/M. Torgovnic. B-."

A quick calculation in my head gave me roughly a C average, which wasn't enough to lose my scholarships--yet. But the semester was only half over, and the hardest material was yet to come in calculus.

I leaned my head back, trying to keep my nerves from getting the best of me. These grades were shit, as far as med schools were concerned, and I wasn't at all sure I could pull them up by semester's end. I could promise myself I'd go to the study sessions, but they were always on weekends, and that's the only time I ever got to see Billie. Between classes, my job, APO, and homework, there wasn't as much time for him as I would have liked anyway. But you have to do what you have to do, right?

At least the APO project was almost finished. Tuesday afternoon, which was usually open after Art History, would be my last painting session, and we'd be done. Then I was to start volunteering at the Cancer Center, talking with kids and playing with them a few hours a week, but the time would be more flexible. I really looked forward to being with the children, even if it meant sharing their pain and sickness, so that maybe I could make them happy for just a little while.

The student store was crowded, too, and it took a while just to pick up shampoo, soap and toothpaste. Then, impulsively, I saw a rack of greeting cards, and I browsed through them until I found a "Thank You" card for Bat. It was the least I could do for the sweet old fellow after he'd been so willing to help Billie.

Wynn was on her bed when I got back, looking over her grades, too.

"How's it looking?" I asked, not quite willing to share mine yet. I frequently looked like an ass in front of my friends, but a dumb ass was something else entirely.

"Well, I got an A in Art--which was a surprise--and B's otherwise. Not perfect, but I guess the 'rents won't choke. What about you?"

"Ummm..."

"Uh oh, not good news?" she asked hesitantly.

"Well, all told it came to about a C," I said vaguely. "I did get a B in French!" There had to be a bright spot somewhere!

"Tres bien, ma petite chou!" she said in an exaggerated accent.

"'My little cabbage?' Where do you get this stuff?" I laughed. She was such a nut.

"Trashy foreign films, poppet. I have no idea what I'm saying half the time, but as the guy in the Matrix said, French is such an elegant language that even when you curse, it makes you feel like you're wiping your ass on silk!"

I'm sure they heard us laughing all the way down the hall.

With the zeal of the foxhole survivor, I threw myself as deep into derivatives as I could for the rest of the week, even showing up for the instructor's office hours on Thursday night. It was time well spent, and when I left well after darkness had fallen, I felt I had a much better grasp on the things that had tripped me up on the exam.

Packing was the last thing on the list for the day, as I was catching the train home Friday right after my last class. It only took about four hours, so I'd be home between 8:30 and 9:00 Friday night.

I was trying not to think about my parents' faces when they saw my grades. They weren't used to much besides A's and B's that I'd made in high school, and I didn't know how upset they might be. Maybe I could tell them I was bent enough for all of us and they'd go easy on me. I just hoped they wouldn't be hurt and disappointed--I could take anything but that.

**************

You never realize how much you miss home until you come back after being away for a long time. The smell of clean laundry and lemon furniture polish, the sound of the dryer in the background, all the family pictures looking down from the walls--how had I come to the point where all these familiar things seemed like someone else's? I carried my duffel bag down the hall to my room, which my mother had cleaned to immaculate, loving perfection to welcome me home. Fresh flowers even nodded in a vase on my dresser, and there were brand new sheets on the bed.

Billie was right, there was nothing as powerful as having people who believed in you.
After dinner, I broached the subject of my grades, and explained to them all the things I was juggling. Well, all except Billie, and I thought they might not understand about him. Or they might understand, but then they'd want to meet him, and I wasn't sure how that might go. Better to just wait for later, and see how things went.

They were more understanding than I expected, but compassion came with conditions. My dad, in his usual firm-but-kind way, reminded me that without scholarships, they simply weren't able to pay for all my tuition, much as they wanted to. And my mom just wanted to know what she could do to help--did I need her to come down on weekends to help me with laundry while I was at work? I told them about the study session, and assured them that I had a plan in place to make sure finals would be better.

I love them so much. I don't deserve a family like mine.

Friday night was one of those Kodak moments, I'm not ashamed to admit it. We played cards, and ate popcorn, and told jokes, and laughed until we ached. They pulled out the photo album and showed me pictures from when they were in college, and I showed them the ones I'd taken of Wynn and the Gardens and the APO crew.

Finally, about 2:00 am, we were all yawning, and I decided I'd better brush my teeth and get some sleep. I was pulling back the covers when I heard a soft knock on the door.

"Gen?" my mom said. "Could I come in to say goodnight?" I felt twelve again, because it sounded like exactly what I needed.

She came in, dressed in her long bathrobe, and sat down on the foot of the bed, patting my knee as she always used to.

"How are your friends, honey?" she asked. "Are you meeting a lot of people?"

"Yeah, Wynn and I know a lot of the same people, and we do things together a lot. She's really wonderful. I didn't expect to end up being best friends with someone I barely knew, but I don't know what I'd do without her."

"She sounds like a really sweet girl. I'm so glad that worked out--my roommate freshman year wasn't so nice, and we didn't get along at all!"

"You never told me that, Mom. I can't imagine anyone not getting along with you!"

"I didn't want to make you nervous!" she laughed. "How about dating? Have you met anyone yet?"

How much to tell her, I wondered. "Well, there is one guy, his best friend dates Wynn. He's a musician, and he's pretty nice."

"Oh, does he play in the orchestra?"

I had to stifle a laugh. "Not exactly. He's in a band of his own, a punk band."

"Punk? Like with safety pins through the nose and Mohawks and razor blades, that kind of punk?"

"Mom, jeez, you're about twenty years out of date. Punks now wear Dickies and Converses and only a few have Mohawks. But yes, that kind of punk. And before you panic, he's a really sweet guy, has a job, very smart--you'd like him."

"Is he a freshman, too?" She was trying to ask without asking.

"No, he's not a student. He lives in the neighborhood near campus."

She was quiet for a second, and I couldn't tell what she was thinking. "Well, tell him he's welcome to come visit us next time you come home." She wanted to know more, but I could tell she didn't want to sound as if she was prying.

"I will, Mom. Maybe he'll be able to come at Thanksgiving."

"Yes, that would be nice." She was holding back something, though, and she cleared her throat, trying to find a way to say it.

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" I asked, trying to help her.

"Well, I was just wondering if you'd talked to Dustin since the two of you decided to break it off." I was really hoping that wouldn't come up, but I couldn't blame her for asking. After all, she'd been convinced that he and I would end up married eventually.

"No, I haven't heard from him. Did he have a good visit with his family last weekend?" Our mothers were good friends, and I knew they chatted a couple of times a week.

"You know, it was funny, but he got tied up at school, too. His mother said that he'd decided to postpone until this weekend, too. He probably got home about 10:00 tonight."

Caution lights were going off all over the place in my head. "Well, I hope they have a good time," I said carefully. "I know they'll have a lot to catch up on."

"I'm sure they will. And his mother asked--just asking, you know, not trying to suggest--if you might want to talk to him while you're both here. Maybe see what happens if you see each other face to face?" She looked hopeful, her eyes all soft and innocent.

Shaking my head, I said, "I don't think that's such a great idea. It would only prolong things, and there's just too much distance between us. Not just in miles, but in who we are and what we want."

"Okay, honey. I don't want to make you think we've been trying to engineer anything. I just wanted to let you know in case you changed your mind, that's all."

"Thanks anyway. I love you, Mom," I said as she bent to hug me and kiss my forehead.
"I love you too, Genny girl. I'm so glad to have you home. Sleep tight!" And as she pulled the door shut, she blew a kiss to me.

So he was here in town. Was it possible he'd postponed on purpose to try to be home at the same time I was? Surely he would have called if he'd wanted to try to talk to me. Either way, it didn't make any difference. After spending some time with my family, and maybe seeing a friend or two, all I wanted was to get back to school and my new life.

The new life that included Billie.

*************************

It wouldn't have been a visit home without going shopping with my mom. Before I'd gone away to college, she'd get up early on Saturdays, fix breakfast, and then she and I would get the house straightened. Then we'd head out, not knowing until the car was parked where we were going to go, but still certain every time that this was where the big bargains were, as though we were fishing for shoes and purses instead of trout or bass.

This Saturday was no exception. I savored even the chores, listening to my MP3 as I vacuumed and dusted my way through the house, happy to be back in my familiar surroundings if only for a weekend.

After lunch, we drove out to the mall and prowled through a few of our favorite shops. Several times she excitedly held up pieces she was sure I'd love, but my tastes were changing, and the things I really liked were a bit more hard-edged than she expected. We ended up finding a few tops and I talked her into a couple of pairs of Dickeys and a sweet pair of black Chucks with skulls on the sides.

"Gen, honey, are you sure this is what you want?" she worried at the checkout. "Where will you be able to wear those?" She looked down at my feet and the sneakers I'd decided to keep on.

"Pretty much anywhere, believe it or not. There isn't much dressing up on campus. Well, except for the APO formal in the spring, but that's a long way from now."

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged, resigned to this new incarnation of the daughter she had once known. "Okay, if you're positive. But I sure did like that little capri outfit. Baby blue looks so cute on you!"

Cute was definitely NOT what I was aiming for.

We stopped for coffee at the inevitable Starbuck's in the food court, and as she was catching me up on the news from our neighborhood, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and a low voice called my name.

I turned and looked right into Dustin's eyes. For a second I had no idea what to say, but I had been raised with manners deeply ingrained, so I recovered quickly and said hello.

"Find anything interesting?" he asked, trying to sound relaxed when it was obvious this was awkward.

"A few things. Just clothes, and a CD or two." I caught him staring at my shoes, but he looked up quickly.

"Did you get the newest one by The Dixie Chicks? I had a feeling you'd like that one." He really liked country music and had let me listen to some of his favorites, but I just couldn't develop a taste for it.

"No, I actually got a copy of 'London Calling' by the Clash. It's a classic. And then, of course, I had to get 'Indestructible' by Rancid."

He glanced at my mom, who was busy reading the sale flyer from Nordstrom's. "Wow, that's...different for you. So have you made a lot of friends at school?"

It was weird how strained it felt to try to talk to him now, when our lives had been so closely intertwined just a few short months ago. "Yeah, it's been fun. How about you?"

He nodded. "Pretty good. There's a couple of guys in the dorm who play soccer, and then the guys I've been practicing some music with."

"Oh, yeah, how's the band coming?"

"We're doing a demo CD for the college station, with a couple of songs. Maybe I could send you a copy, like you said."

"I'd like that. I bet it's really good."

My mom was folding her sale paper and picking up her purse. "Gen, I'm just going right across to Nordstrom for a couple of minutes. Why don't you wait here and finish your conversation? I'll be back in a flash." This last she said over her shoulder as she was walking away, so there wasn't any graceful way to excuse myself to go with her.

"It's okay, Mrs. Hayden," Dustin piped up. "Why don't you finish your shopping and I'll give her a ride home?"

"That's fine, Dustin, thanks! I shouldn't be long--tell your dad, okay, Gen?"
I could swear they planned this.

I was gritting my teeth, feeling ambushed and betrayed, but I pasted an annoyed smile on my face and waved to her. "Sure, Mom, I'll let him know. Have fun!" I widened my eyes just to make sure she knew I was being sarcastic.

So...great. Here I was, alone with the one person I didn't even want to see, and now I would be stuck in a car with him for a half hour. I just wanted to get this over with.

"Well, Dustin, it was nice of you to offer a ride, but I do need to get back home," I said, tossing my cup in the trash. "If you're still looking around, I'll just go catch my mom before she gets too engrossed."

"Oh, no, I'm all done," he said, a trifle too eagerly. "Why don't we get you home--I'm sure you're tired." He handed my purse to me and picked up the shopping bags like a dutiful puppy. As we made our way toward the parking deck entrance, he was quiet, trying not to say too much too soon.

He opened the car door for me, and as soon as we'd wound through the mall parking lot and merged onto the highway, he turned on the CD player. "How about playing me some of the new music you got?" he offered. "I'd love hearing what you're listening to these days."

I carefully opened "Indestructible" and inserted it, cueing it to "Red Hot Moon." I couldn't get enough of that song, the story of Casey who just wanted to escape, who didn't trust anyone, who had decided to say "fuck you" to anyone who tried to get close to her. Even though she ends up dead, I wanted to be like her--no, I wanted to BE her, to run without knowing where I was going, and not give a damn what anyone thought.

Tim's sexy, husky voice died away as the song ended, and Dustin reached down to lower the volume. "So you're really into this stuff now, huh?" he asked, as if he thought it was a joke I was playing on him.

"Yeah, there's a lot of great music out there I'd just never been exposed to. That's the great thing about college--new experiences." I found myself with my hand out the window, palm down, riding the air currents just as Billie did so often. It sent a shiver down my spine just thinking of him, and I could see his emerald eyes just the way they'd looked in the moonlight that night at the barn.

"Gen, why did we break up?" Dustin snapped me back to reality in the harshest way possible. "I've been trying so hard to figure out what went wrong, and I can't. It's like everything was fine when we went off to school, and then suddenly it was over. Did I do something wrong?"

As much as I didn't want to have this conversation, I still didn't want to hurt him because the simple truth was that he hadn't done anything wrong at all. He just was wrong. For me.
"It isn't you," I said truthfully. "You've never been anything but good to me. You're honest, and thoughtful, and kind. I know that you deserve someone who has the sense to see all those things in you and appreciate you. I just don't think I'm the right one."

"I do. I knew it from the first time we went out. I've known it the whole time we've dated. I still know it."

Don't, I thought. Don't do this to me, to yourself. It won't change anything.

"Dustin, I just need different things from my life than I used to. There's a whole world out there, and maybe it's selfish, but I don't want to grow old and die without seeing what it has to offer. Please understand, and please know I take all the blame for this."

He lowered his head, and I thought for a minute he might be on the verge of tears. But when he looked up at me, it was anger that I saw on his face.

"You make it sound noble, Gen, like it was 'fate' or some crap like that. But I know what you're not saying, and all I don't know is his name. Who are you throwing your life away over?"