Mine: A Love Story (16 page)

I get my wish—Thanksgiving weekend passes without much trouble at all. Dinner was delicious. Dad fried a twenty pound turkey out in the back yard, while Mom and Aunt Barbara whipped up a bunch of tasty side dishes in the kitchen, including a pumpkin pie Mom made from scratch that was totally awesome. With Dad out back for most of the day and Mom inside, there wasn’t much opportunity for them to fight. My cousins and I shuttled back and forth from hanging with my dad outside to visiting with Mom and Aunt Barbara inside while they cooked.

Mom and Dad have one big blow-up on Saturday afternoon. It starts with Dad complaining about eating leftovers again—uh, Dad, everybody eats leftovers on Thanksgiving weekend—and escalates from there. I grab Sam and take him for a two-hour walk. By the time we get back, Mom is watching television in the living room and Dad is busy in his den. I join Mom, who’s watching some old movie with Barbara Streisand and Kris Kristofferson. I guess he was a pretty good country music singer back in the day, but that was way before my time. The movie’s got some good singing in it, so I hang around and watch for awhile.

Sunday is pretty uneventful, by Mom and Dad’s standard, anyhow, and by mid-afternoon, Dad is dropping me off in front of my dorm. All in all, it wasn’t a bad weekend, not by any stretch.

I’m glad to be back, though. It’s only for three weeks this time, and then it will be Christmas break. That two week break promises to be much more of a challenge than Thanksgiving, but I’m not going to worry about it now. Besides, I’ve survived seventeen Christmases. I’m sure can handle another one.

The door to my room is part way open, so I know Marissa has beaten me back. I hear Taylor Swift singing “Last Christmas” through the doorway as I cross the hall. I guess Marissa is thinking about Christmas break already, too, although probably not in the same way I am. “Last Christmas” is actually pretty sad for a holiday song, but Taylor makes it sound beautiful. I suppose I should count my blessings that Chris broke my heart at Halloween instead of Christmas. That would have made Christmas really tough to handle—and maybe messed up my next few Christmases as well.

My hands are full, so I push the door open with my shoulder and walk in. Beth is here, sitting on Marissa’s desk chair. Marissa is perched comfortably on her bed. I guess they’ve been catching up on their weekends.

“Hey, I didn’t know you played guitar,” Beth says, her eyes fixed on my guitar case as I walk in.

Busted! I guess it had to happen sometime. I drop my stuff onto my bed and shove the case into the closet. I’m not quite ready to cop to my playing yet.

“I don’t, really,” I say. “But I want to learn.”

“All that
Guitar Hero
has you fired up, huh?” Beth says.

“Yeah, something like that, I guess,” I say.

I see Marissa roll her eyes at me, but she doesn’t say anything about it, for which I’m grateful.

“So, Roomie,” she says instead. “How was your weekend?”

And with that, the three of us launch into a long discussion of our Thanksgiving weekends. Katie joins us a little while later. It’s like we never left.

The first two weeks back at school fly by, and then it’s time for final exams. Whoopie!

Finals are way worse than midterms. Not only is there twice as much material to study and try to remember, but the exams count as a bigger portion of the final grade. So the pressure is that much greater. Glassy stares are the norm out in the hallway, and if I had the time, I’d recycle the piles of energy drink cans that keep the trash bin outside the dorm overflowing. I could make a nice little chunk of cash from them, I bet. I could probably make some decent money just from the cans Marissa and I are going through.

But, alas, there’s no time for anything but studying, eating and sleeping—and little enough for the latter two. I can’t believe I have to go through this hell seven more times before I graduate. I sure hope it gets easier with experience.

I do most of my studying in my room, but I head over to the library for an hour or two every day, just for a break in the routine. It’s also a good place to remind myself that lots of kids are even more stressed about finals than I am. Some look like they haven’t slept—or showered—in days.

I also make sure I take a couple of short walks every day, to clear my head and stretch my muscles. I usually drag Marissa, Katie or Beth with me, but sometimes I go alone. I don’t go far, just wander about the area around the dorm. I’d love to go the park, but that’s a longer walk than I have time for. The weather’s been cold, but luckily it’s been clear. I don’t know what I’d do if we had a rainy week, or worse. The walk breaks are the only thing keeping me sane, I think. That and my guitar, which I play for a little while every night, studying be damned. Marissa doesn’t mind—if she’s here when I play, she takes a break from her studying to listen. A couple times, she’s gotten up and danced to the music.

Thursday afternoon. Three finals down and only one to go, tomorrow morning. Psychology. That one shouldn’t be too bad, except I haven’t done much studying for it yet, because I had my algebra exam this morning and I had to give that one most of my attention. I stayed up until almost four o’clock studying for it. The test was a beast, but I think I did okay. I might eek out a B for the semester, which would be great. Better than great. If I only get a C, that’s okay, too. It’s math, after all.

I wolf down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and decide to take a walk before I hit my psych books. I throw on a pair of gray sweatpants and a heavy, dark red hoodie. I’ve got two shirts on under the hoodie, one long sleeve and one short, so I’ll be plenty warm. I tuck my hair up under a brown knit cap and I’m ready to go. No fashion plate, for sure, but who cares? It’s finals week. And who do I need to impress, anyhow?

The cold air hits me as soon as I step out of the dorm. I shove my hands into my sweatshirt pockets and make a beeline for the sunny side of the street. Once I get my blood flowing, I’ll be fine.

I’ve gone barely a block when I hear a familiar voice behind me. It’s Gary.

“Hey, Heather,” he calls.

I turn and see Gary and James coming up behind me. Gary’s bundled up in a heavy gray State sweatshirt and jeans, with a red baseball cap on his head. James is also wearing jeans, with a brown leather bomber jacket. His head is bare.

“Hi, Gary,” I say. “Hi, James.”

“Hi, Heather,” James says. “How are you enjoying your first finals week?”

James looks even more tired than I feel. A stubble of blonde whiskers covers his chin and his eyes are red. His smile is alive and friendly, though.

“Ugggh,” I say. “Don’t ask. I’m bushed. I haven’t had more than a couple hours sleep any night this week. Thank goodness I’ve only got one final to go.”

“You should try studying for finals and working at the same time,” James says. “It’s no fun, believe me.”

“You’ve been working at The Joint this week?” I ask, amazed. No wonder he looks so tired. “Wouldn’t they let you off for finals?”

“Almost all the employees are students,” James says. “If they let us all off, they’d have to shut the place down for the week. At least they work with us in terms of our schedules. I’ve been helping out waiting tables, too, covering for some of the kids who have insane exam schedules.”

“I can’t even imagine having to work this week,” I say. “You definitely have my sympathy. And my admiration.”

“We’re heading to The Joint to get something to eat,” Gary says. “Wanna join us?”

I shake my head. “No thanks. I just had a PB&J. I’m taking a short break before I go back and hit the books some more.”

“Good luck with your last test,” James says. “And have a great Christmas.”

“Thanks,” I say. “You, too. Are you going home for break?”

“No, I’m staying here,” he says. “I can pick up some more extra shifts at The Joint, since a couple of the waiters will be gone. I can always use the money.”

I start to make a sympathetic remark, but catch myself, remembering what he told me about his father.

“That’s cool,” I say instead.

“If you get bored over vacation, come on out to The Joint,” James says, obviously remembering I don’t live very far away. “I’ll be working pretty much every night. It won’t be crowded, and I’ll get you the employee discount for dinner.”

“We’ll see,” I say, ever the cautious girl. “I’d better head back. Enjoy your lunch. See you both next year.”

The next morning, I walk out of my psych final with a big smile on my face. I’m pretty sure I aced the thing, so that’s a great way to end my first semester of college. Now all I have to do is pack some stuff and wait for Dad to pick me up. It’s been a pretty eventful four months, that’s for sure.

I wonder what spring semester will have in store for me….

“Spring semester” is a total misnomer, at least for right now. We don’t get much snow here, but we had a couple of inches two days before school started. The roads and sidewalks are mostly clear, but there’s still some snow blanketing the lawns, especially in the shaded areas, and lots more piled in long, rapidly blackening heaps along the curbs and at the edges of the parking lots. Nothing about the campus right now is remotely Spring-like.

But it’s still good to be back.

My schedule for this semester isn’t too much different from last semester. I have three required classes: English Literature, Introduction to Biology, and Algebra II—thankfully, that’s the last math class I’ll ever have to take! For electives, I have Introduction to Sociology and Animal Psychology. This semester will probably be a lot tougher than the last one, because I have five full-size courses instead of four. I don’t have anything as fun and easy as the vampire class—and believe me, I looked for something. On the plus side, I won’t have to worry about seeing Chris in class this term. If he shows up in one of my freshman level courses, I’ll know he’s stalking me.

I’m pretty much over all the surface hurt—the crying, the anger, the wondering how he could do that to me—but I have no idea how deep the scars might go. I was already a very cautious girl before him, but now I don’t know how I’ll ever really trust a guy again. Maybe that’s okay, though. Not every girl needs to be with a guy, does she? If I never have another boyfriend, then I’ll never have to worry about ending up in a relationship like my parents.

It’s not like I’ll be a hermit. I’ve got great girlfriends to do things with. I can still have lots of fun—the Halloween party and open mic night, as well as other things I did with my friends, proved that. Maybe somewhere down the line I’ll find a nice guy friend—not a boyfriend, just a guy to be friends with, to get a little male energy in my life without having to worry about all the crap that goes with being in a relationship. Hey, a girl can dream, right?

The first two weeks of spring semester are fairly easy, as the professors ease us back into the academic grind. And that’s just fine with me. With minimal homework and no tests to study for, there’s plenty of time for fun. The only glitch in the whole thing is really just a selfish one on my part. Katie is still seeing Grant, and Marissa and Gary are doing great, so Katie and Marissa are not quite as available to play as they would be in my perfect world. But I certainly don’t begrudge them their happiness, not at all. I still hang out with them plenty. Beth and I have been playing a lot of
Guitar Hero
and stuff, but I still haven’t been able to convince her to hike in the park with me, even with the snow long gone. She’s just not into nature stuff—or exercise, for that matter—so if Marissa and Katie are busy with their guys, I end up going alone. Which is okay, because it’s kind of peaceful.

Since I’m pretty sure I’m never going to date again, I’m trying to do everything I can to get even closer to my girlfriends. And that has led me to a really big decision—a monumental decision—for me, anyhow. I’ve decided to tell Katie and Beth that I play guitar, and even bolder, I’m going to play for them. And sing, too. Marissa is all for it, but I’m pretty nervous. Still, I’m determined to open up to them as much as I can. My music is an important part of me, and I want to share it with them. That’s how you get close to people, right? By letting them into the more private aspects of your life. So that’s what I’m going to do. Tonight’s the night.

“So, what’s the big news, Heather?” Beth asks.

I asked Beth and Katie to keep tonight free, and to come by my room at seven o’clock. I’ve haven’t told them why, in case I chicken out. But I don’t think Marissa will let me back out now even if I want to. She says I’m good enough to play for anyone, and that she’s tired of having to keep my guitar playing a secret from our friends.

So here we are, gathered in my room. Marissa is sitting on her bed. Katie is next to her, and Beth has just settled onto one of the chairs. I’m too nervous to sit, so I’m standing and pacing. My guitar case is lying on my bed.

“I wanted to share something with you guys,” I say. “You’ll probably think it’s no big deal, but it is to me, I promise. Very few people know about it.”

I can tell by the look on their faces they are totally puzzled.

“Whatever it is, you can trust us, Heather,” Katie says.

“Yeah,” Beth says. “Unless you’re going to tell us you’ve been having sex behind our backs.” She grins. “I’m not sure I can forgive you if you’ve been holding out on something like that.”

“Don’t worry,” I say, chuckling. “It’s nothing
that
big, believe me.”

I’m feeling a bit embarrassed that I’m making such a production out of this, so I cross to my bed and open my guitar case. Gingerly, I lift out my guitar.

“It’s about this,” I say. “My guitar is really important to me, but I’ve been keeping it a secret. Marissa is the only one who’s heard me play.” I sit down on my chair, with my guitar on my lap. “I want to share it with you guys, too. Because you’re my friends.”

“Cool,” Katie says.

Beth still looks confused. “I don’t understand what the big deal is,” she says. “You’ve only had that thing a month or so, right?”

Marissa starts to laugh, but she covers her mouth with her hand. It’s my show, and she’s going to let me proceed however I want to.

“Well, not exactly,” I say. I begin strumming the strings.

I spent quite awhile wrestling with what song to begin with. I finally decided to go with one I’m least likely to screw up, no matter how nervous I am. It’s one of the first songs I learned, one that I’ve played so often I could probably do it in my sleep. It’s a Taylor Swift song, of course. I’m going to play “Tim McGraw.”

I don’t think I could have done this song a month or two ago. The words of wistful love would have hurt too much after Chris. Like I said, though, I’m mostly over that now.

My fingers quickly fall into the familiar patterns. For a minute or two, I just play, eyes closed to block out my audience. It’s just me and my guitar, the way it always is—and the music. Finally, I begin singing.

I don’t open my eyes until I’m done. My three friends are smiling at me, big time.

“Wow, that was really good, Heather,” Katie says.

“Yeah,” Beth says, “and it was so not the performance of someone who has only played guitar for a month.”

“Uh, yeah, about that,” I say. “I may have fibbed just a little bit there.”

I tell them how I’ve been playing for years, but had never played for anyone, not even my mom and dad, until I played for Marissa last semester. I open up about how important my guitar is to me, and how I use it to escape when things get too messed up at home, or when I’m down about something else. I explain why I decided to play for them, how I wanted us to be even closer than we already are. I finish by asking them not to tell anyone else about my playing. I’m not ready for that yet.

“I’m not even allowed to tell Gary,” Marissa tells them. “And I tell him everything.” A big grin lights up her face. “Well, almost everything.”

Katie comes over and gives me a warm hug. “I, for one, am very touched by your sharing this with us,” she says.

“Me, too,” Beth adds. “And now I know why you rock
Guitar Hero
so well.”

We all laugh. I’m elated by their reactions. It’s exactly what I was hoping for. I feel closer to them than ever. See? You don’t need a boyfriend when you’ve got great girlfriends.

“You guys want to hear another?” I ask.

“You bet,” Katie says. She hops back up onto Marissa’s bed.

“Yeah, encore!” Marissa cheers.

The three of them take out their cell phones and begin waving them back and forth with the screens lit up, like fans at a concert. Since the room isn’t dark, the effect is somewhat limited, but I appreciate the gesture.

I don’t want to play another love song, but I’ve already picked out a good second song.

“Here’s one to girl power,” I say as I launch into Gretchen Wilson’s “Redneck Woman.” The girls join in every time I get to the “hey ya’ll” and “yee-haw” parts.

This is really fun.

And even better, cautious girl has just become a little less cautious….