Along for the Ride(70)

‘Actually it’s not,’ he said.

‘Come on.’

‘Seriously. There’s school rules, and neighborhood rules. The two are very different.’

‘Says who?’

‘Anybody who has played both,’ he said, tossing the ball back. ‘Trust me.’

Now, my mother took another sip of her wine. ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ she said. ‘A packet has arrived for you. From Defriese. Orientation information, I’m assuming. Would you like for me to open it?’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’

There was the sound of paper tearing, then crinkling. She sighed. ‘As I suspected. Meal plan info, updated transcript requests, a roommate questionnaire… which is due at the end of the week, apparently.’

‘Really.’

‘For God’s sake.’ She groaned. ‘It’s like a compatibility test! “What activities do you enjoy?” “Would you say you are a workaholic, or more carefree with your studies?” What is this, higher education or Internet dating?’

‘Just stick it in the mail to me,’ I said. ‘I’ll get it back as fast as I can.’

‘And if you’re late, you’ll end up with some carefree, activity-loving roommate. We’re better off filling it out now,’ she muttered. ‘Oh, wait a moment. There’s a second page here, where you can request “alternate living arrangements”.’

‘Meaning what?’

She didn’t say anything for a moment, busy reading. Then, ‘There are certain floors and dorms you can request where everyone has a specific focus, such as foreign languages or sports. Let me just… ah. Perfect.’

I heard a pen scritching. ‘What’s perfect?’

‘The Pembleton Program,’ she replied. ‘I just signed you up for it.’

‘What?’

She cleared her throat, then read aloud. ‘“Housed in a dorm removed from the main campus, the Pembleton Program offers academically strong students an environment dedicated solely to their studies. With single rooms, on-site research materials, and close access to both libraries, members of Pembleton are free to focus on their work without the distractions of regular dorm life.”’

‘Which means…’

‘No roommate, no parties, no nonsense. It’s just what you want.’

‘Um,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. It sounds kind of restrictive, don’t you think?’

‘Not at all,’ she replied. ‘You won’t have to deal with drunk frat boys and hormonal, gossiping girls. It’s ideal. Now, I’ll just sign your name here, and we can –’

‘Don’t,’ I said quickly. I could feel her surprise, could see her on the other end of the phone, pen in hand, eyebrows raised. ‘I mean, I’m not really sure I want to live there.’

Silence. Then, ‘Auden. I don’t think you understand how distracting it can be to live in a dorm environment. There are people who come to college purely for the social life. Do you really want to be stuck in a room with someone like that?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘But I don’t want to spend every single second studying either.’

‘Oh.’ Her voice was flat. ‘I suppose this is part of your blossoming, then? Suddenly school isn’t important anymore, just boys and girlfriends and clothes?’

‘Of course not. But –’

A sigh, loud, filling my ear. ‘I should have known spending the summer with Heidi would do this to you,’ she said. ‘I spend eighteen years teaching you about the importance of taking yourself seriously, and in a matter of weeks you’re wearing pink bikinis and totally boy crazy.’

‘Mom,’ I said, my voice rising. ‘This isn’t about Heidi.’

‘No,’ she shot back. ‘It’s about your sudden lack of drive and focus. How could you let yourself get this way?’

Hearing this, I had a flash of my dad, attributing all I’d done to the name he’d chosen for me. All the good was their doing; the bad, mine. I bit my lip. ‘I haven’t changed,’ I told her. ‘This is just me.’

Silence. And I knew, within it, that the fact this might be true was worse than any frat boy or pink bikini ever could be.

‘Well, I’ll just stick this in the mail.’ She drew in a breath, stiff, formal. ‘You make your own decision.’

I swallowed. ‘Okay.’

For a moment, neither of us said anything, and I wondered what could possibly follow this. How we could come back from such an impasse, this huge expanse stretching between us. There were a million different ways, I was sure, but my mom surprised me by not choosing any of them. Instead, she hung up, leaving me with a simple click, the last word, and no idea where to go from here.

Apparently, conflict was contagious, or at least in the air. When I left my room about twenty minutes later to head to work, Thisbe’s waves had stopped, and another steady noise was coming from her room: the sound of bickering.

‘Of course you deserve a night out,’ my father was saying. ‘I’m just not sure tonight is the right one, is all I’m saying.’

‘Why not?’ Heidi asked. I could hear Thisbe making noises in the background. ‘I’ll be back for the nine o’clock feeding, the baby’s just had a nap…’