The Boy Who Wore Boat Shoes

14⎜The Bench

14⎜The Bench

I walked on the gray sidewalk, alongside a large body of water that was often used by Stanford’s rowing teams. It was unclear to me whether or not the expanse of liquid was manmade or natural, but it was still nice, either way. There were trees everywhere, and the grass was a vibrant green. This was a part of the campus that I hadn’t really visited frequently, but I still liked it. On one of my first days of exploration I had found this place, and now was probably only my second or third time coming back.

           My eyes darted over to a vacant bench, and on a mixture of a whim and a desire to take in my surroundings, I went over to it, and sat down. I dropped my backpack on the ground by my feet, and took out my phone and a set of ear buds. For a moment, I didn’t do anything with the technological devices within my hands, but merely gazed at the water, and how still it was. With a content sigh, I connected the two gadgets together, placing a single earphone inside my ear. I didn’t press play, though, for I found the passing sound of laughter and chatter and everything else around me so much more interesting than any pop song about a broken heart or a girl could ever be.

           Silence couldn’t be heard, for there were too many other noises juxtaposed within the atmosphere. Somehow, though, I was able to nullify all the other sounds, being left with a clear head to think. I had learned how to do that over this past summer, mainly—muting out everything. Up until this summer, I had never been in a situation where I needed to turn to quietness, for the humdrum life that I lead full of commotion was fine by me. And then I went to rehab, and everything changed.

           The thing about addictions was that just admitting you had a problem, didn’t really cure anything. Sure, it was a great start, but just because you expressed that you have an issue, didn’t make the said issue magically go away. I learned this tough lesson after telling my parents about my drug problem. They immediately reacted, cancelling the trip to the Caribbean (well, my plane ticket, at least—they still went), and sent me to rehab instead of a nice villa on a tropical island.

           And so, I was dumped in rehab for the summer, and it was kind of like camp, only instead of staying in cabins in the woods with other “campers,” I got my own barely air-conditioned room with white décor and a small window. Since I wasn’t really the biggest nature person on earth, it was probably a good thing that I got an inside room instead of a cabin. I did a lot of thinking in that room, and that was really all I had, for it was stripped of all personality, leaving me to only ponder what was inside my mind.

           My parents had visited me a couple of times during the summer. They didn’t really like seeing their “perfect” son in such a drably depressing place, so didn’t make a habit of coming. My dad had brought me a football on one of their trips, hoping that seeing the ball would trigger something inside of me into thinking that I had made a mistake, and that I couldn’t actually give up football. The only thing that the object had triggered was memories serving as evidence as to why I had quit in the first place.

           We were allowed to hang up posters in the rooms, and use our own nonwhite bedding if we wanted to, but I didn’t. There was something cleansing that I liked about the white. It was like a fresh start, and I found something pretty meaningful about that. Then again, the room was so bright, and yet at the same time dull, that even my navy suitcases that had my clothes in them stood out as vivacious in the small room.

           When I first arrived, my phone had been taken away. I didn’t really mind, because at that point, I had already cut off all communication with anyone from high school, anyways. They treated me differently after my breakup with Liz, and when my drug problem went public through rumors and facts, my friends were so much more distant. I wasn’t a valiant hero anymore who had lead the football team to two consecutive state championships, but rather just another face in the crowd who had made mistakes. My mistakes, however, had cost me years of friendship that ultimately went down the drain in a matter of days.