Authors: Jennifer Browning
Nan had always said to me
Never be the first one to let go of a hug
. As a result, Nan and I often had some very long hugs. I followed her advice that night and the hug went on until he let go. When he released me, it felt suddenly final. I was leaving, my friends were staying. From here, I would have to walk alone.
I started to cry and David sat me down on the couch and put his arm around me. That’s how my mother found us. She murmured some soothing words, thanked David and sent him home. My summer was over and the world awaited me.
I
had
begged my parents
early in the summer
to let me
fly
alone to school. I had solid arguments – being mature for my age and a completely responsible person who had never gotten caught shoplifting or drinking under age. Although I loved them dearly, I wanted to do this on my own. My mother cried, my father asked if I was embarrassed of them. It took me weeks to convince them I would be okay. Nan chimed in with her opinion that a lady shouldn’t travel alone. She had her rules and I’m sure she had her reason
s
, but above all I kept thinking that this was my life and it was finally about to begin. I guess I wanted to shake the dirt off and start without any preconceived notions of what or who I should be. I could be any person I wanted; but not with my mom standing beside me.
I would always be a little girl while she was with me. Besides,
everyone will be there by themselves
, I thought.
It was a tearful goodbye. I had a mixture of sadness and excitement
- bittersweet. As I looked at them one last time, my parents looked older than I had ever seen them. I thought they’d be happy. They could turn my room into a gym or an office. I rolled my suitcase into the airport and they drove away. I was alone. Taking a deep breath, I headed for my plane.
I left too much time to get through security. The line was shorter than I expected and i
t took only 15 minutes or so. I was left with two hours to wait before my flight. I found my
gate and sat among a sea of tuned out people. A guy about my age was sitting on the floor with sunglasses and headphones on. I wondered why he was wearing sunglasses inside and thought he must be trying to look cool, but then decided I w
as being mean and perhaps he had
some kind of light sensitivity. A woman sat knitting something that looked like a baby blanket. I imagined she might be going to see a new granddaughter. Two old men sat near her chatting easily with each other
.
Almost everyone else nearb
y was lost in a laptop, phone or
music player. Only one person had a real book. She looked like a nice person. For the first time in my life, I thought whatever I was heading for might be as exciting as what everyone else was headed for.
10
Arriving at LAX,
I stepped off the plane into a surreal world of beauty. It was as if all the other cities I had
ever
been
to
had
selected their most beautiful people and sent them here. I was stunned by the perfection of the women around me. Some of it
was
natural, some not so much. But all of it was intimidating. I was a simple girl from a small town. How would I ever fit in here?
My first days at school were a blur. I had so many things to
learn
, people to meet, places to be. Being in charge of getting myself to classes at odd times a couple of days a week was more ch
allen
ging that I expected. Somehow knowing how to feed myself, do laundry and clean wasn’t as versatile as I though
t
. My roommate was a local girl who was unimpressed with my
naivete
and unabashed excitement. Ultimately, it was my goal to make new friends, and I did. I got a job right away at the university where they were impressed that I had traveled so far to come to school with no family or friends to fall back on.
On my second Saturday morning there, the phone rang and a man asked for me. He said he had a package from Nan.
I came down to the lobby to meet him.
That box was a life line: some “just add water” food, instant coffee, a cozy blanket and some school supplies. I thanked the man, who wasn’t dressed like a postman or any private mail courier. He smiled warmly, said it was his pleasure and was gone. Something seemed familiar about him.
Those packages kept coming – every two weeks like clockwork. Every time,
it was
the same middle-aged courier.
He became
a welcome familiarity. My new friends and I were getting closer, but some came and went. I called
Kate
all the time and got news of what was going on back home. She still lived at home and drove to school. So
f
ar college had
felt like a high school extension to her, but there were some new friends for her too and I tried not to be jealous. After all, we had both moved on. I asked how David was doing and she had good things to report. He was still work
ing and
Jessica was going to Kindergarten
.
I called David a few times too. He sounded happy, grounded. We talked for an hour one night. My ear became hot and irritated from holding the phone so close
to my head
. At the end of the call he told me earnestly that Jessica really missed me. It felt like he was trying to say something else
– that
he
missed me
. I was curious about whether or not he had started to date anyone, but it felt like prying. He didn’t ask me
about things like that
, so I shouldn’t ask him.
A week after that call, I received a handwritten letter from David.
We got off the phone an hour ago and I still can’t sleep. It isn’t the same around here without you. I go to the Laundromat and there’s no one there reading books and cleaning out dryers. I’m sure those dryers are going to catch fire one of these days because you
aren’t
here. The whole town seems different… a little sadder
and
gray.
I ran into your mom the other day, she misses y
ou. She asked how I was managing without my favorite babysitter and offered to help out. I think she’s a little lonely with you gone.
We never really talked about what happened the night before you left. I meant what I said. I wanted to say a lot more things, but you have your life now and I have mine. I thought that after you left I’d forget about you or at least not think about you so much, but it’s really the opposite. I hope that you’
re happy, but don’t forget about us back here.
He signed it with just his name – no “love” or “sincerely”. I felt conflicted reading it. I folded it neatly and tucked it away, then read it again so often that the paper wore thin on the fold lines and it started to fall apart.
I turned 19 that year and my new college friends took me to a karaoke bar where I mangled several popular tunes to a friendly, supportive crowd
in a Mexican restaurant
.
I received a hand drawn card from Jessica. She had drawn a big heart inside in crayon and painstakingly written her name. Below it David wrote
Happy Birthday Andy!
drew
his own heart and signed his name. I found myself obsessing over that heart and what it meant.
Was he just copying Jessica’s heart? Did he mean to draw a heart? Did it mean love? Did Jessica make him draw a heart?
There were too many questions.
In spite of my new lax schedule, I learned a lot that year and made excellent friends. I didn’t want to go home, perhaps ever again. I felt like Los Angeles, college, they changed
me. I wasn’t the same Andy who left
Palmetto
. When summer came, I lined up a roommate, not a girl I
knew
very well, but she could afford half the rent and also didn’t want to go home yet. Our apartment was off-campus, but not very far.
David heard the news from my mom, who wasn’t happy with the decision. She and my dad flew out to see me and check out the new apartment.
I dutifully gave them a tour of campus, showed them the few sights that I’d seen and promised to come home for the holidays.
When I talked to David after the end of the semester, he sounded hurt. It was another long conversation that felt too honest, but not like we said anything. He said that he hoped I would come back, that he had plans for the summer. I apologized, but wasn’t sure I needed to. He said he missed me and I said the same and it was true.
Kate
had moved on with her life and hardly called anymore. He felt like my last remaining friend from home. He said that maybe he should come out to see me, but the thought made my heart leap into my throat. If he came to L.A., if I saw him here, things would be different. I couldn’t just talk about missing
him,
I would have to show him that I missed him. And what if things weren’t as easy between us as they had
been when I left home? What if
things were suddenly awkward between us and we had nothing to talk about?
I didn’t know if David and I were meant to be together, but I knew I wasn’t ready to give up the possibility. And so I told him I would be home for the holidays too and that he’d get to see me then. He sounded like he didn’t believe me. I didn’t believe me either.
My friendly courier continued delivering Nan
’s packages – sometimes flowers
or chocolate. Once
she sent
a teddy bear. Those boxes always seemed like the perfect thing. Of course Nan and I talked on the phone all the time so she always seemed to know exactly what I needed.
Most of the tenants in our apartment complex were students or former students.
And that is where I met Phil. Phil said he was a junior, but looked to be well into his 20s. He flirted shamelessly with me and every other girl at the party that night and I deemed him harmless. He gave me his phone number when he left. “Use it any time, for any reason.” With that and a good natured wink, he was gone. I didn’t take him seriously and I didn’t think much about him after that night, but as luck would have it I
later
ran into Phil again.
I had moved back on campus the
Fall
of my sophomore year to be closer to my classes. This time I was rooming with Sunday, an excellent friend whose hippie parents had named all their children after seasons or days of the week.
S
he invited me to her home in New Mexico
for the
holiday
break between semesters when virtually every
thing on
campus would be closed
, b
ut
something
kept me from going
. I couldn’t insult my family by spending Christmas with another family, but I wasn’t ready to go home.