What We Take Away

Chapter 14 | Aram

October 14th, 2005

Dust particles catch in the light streaming from the sole window in the room. I resist the urge to drum my fingers on something, anything, to repel the discomfort of waiting in this awful place. It's the last thing I want to be doing on a Friday afternoon, but my family members were annoyingly adamant.

"It wouldn't hurt to talk to someone and hear some options," Mother had insisted two Sundays ago over family dinner.

"Counselors are all the same," I grumbled. "You talk to one, you've talked to them all."

Father appraised me wearily. "Just make an appointment, Aram," he sighed. "It does you no good to complain."

"Wise counsel is good for the soul," Grandfather adds. "That's from Proverbs."

"You're just like Mal, Grandfather!" Arielle chimed. "He always quotes Proverbs, too."

"What's this?" Mother inquired. "Is this Malcom Walsh we are talking about? Your old friend from soccer?"

"Is he back?" Father asked curiously. "The tall, pleasant young man who joined the Army?"

"Yeah, Mal's back," I replied. "He got discharged from the Rangers. He's taking classes at CHU—"

"And he's been leading these amazing prayer nights each week on campus!" Arielle gushed. 

"Well, well! You should bring him home for dinner next weekend!" Mother beamed. "I haven't seen that boy in years! I wonder how he is doing now!"

"Yes! Bring him for dinner!" Arielle squealed. 

I stare sullenly at the shiny nameplate on the desk in front of me, which reads "Kellie DiEmedio," and glance up at the woman sitting in front of me behind a large desk. Kellie DiEmedio can't be much older than myself. Yet with her styled hair, pressed work clothes and generous office, she strikes me as someone who must have hit the ground running upon graduation. And now it's her job to advise directionless nobodies like me. Why did I agree to come here again?

I know Mother means well. But the more I think about my future, the more aimless I feel inside. I wrench my eyes from Kellie's nameplate to the window and stare at the cloud-covered sky. At least the weather is cooling down. The summer heat was getting to be ridiculous.

Kellie looks away from her screen and clears her throat. I shift in my seat.

"Thank you for waiting, Aram," she smiles. "I looked over your records. You've tried a little bit of everything haven't you?"

"Yeah," I mutter. She must be referring to the four separate times I changed majors.

Her lips pucker into a glossy, pink O as she scans her screen. Again... what is it with women and makeup?

"I see that you've registered for an elective over the winter session. I recommend that you also take statistics to get it out of the way – I hear that molecular biology with Professor Hargraves in the spring is quite demanding. Are you considering graduate school?"

A gnawing sensation grows in my stomach. I shake my head from side to side.

"No. Even if I were to go, I don't have any idea what I'd study," I snort. "I'm basically a dud at life."

"I wouldn't say it like that," she tsks. "Your grades look good. If you maintain your GPA, then you should be well on your way to graduation with no problem at all. It wouldn't hurt to take the GRE just in case you change your mind later. GRE scores are good for five years."

She rips a pink sticky note from a thick square block on her desk and jots something down.

"Here," she says, handing me the sticky note. "This is the test center most students use. You can set your test appointment by visiting their website or giving them a call. In the meantime, I'd recommend starting any GRE prep with a solid resource. I've listed that for you as well."