The Fifteenth Year

Epilogue: Part 2

Tuesday, October 27, 2015 (continued)

Dear Friend,

I guess the best place to start is when Jason graduated high school. I cheered for him in the packed auditorium as he marched across that stage looking dapper in his cap and gown to receive his diploma. When "Jason Michael Conners" was heard over the microphone, his parents and I made him blush with our ridiculous cheering. The truth is we had a lot to be proud of. Two months prior, we found out that Jason had been accepted into San Diego State University. They offered him a full ride scholarship. It wasn't a Pac-12 school or somewhere he'd get a lot of college football air-time on television, but plenty of SDS platers got drafted into the NFL, and with the promise of no student loans 0 he was pleased with this acceptance. He left for training in August. I wiped my tears when I said goodbye, even though he wouldn't be very far. He visited a lot of weekends including most holidays that didn't interfere with mid-terms or finals. It was fairly easy to stay together. He made the team, he was doing well at the university, and I was thrilled for him.

For the rest of high school, I worked my butt off in advanced classes, joined track, took the necessary classes to get recognition from Hopkins and did my best to impress the teachers I felt I would have the most pull with admissions. I'm not sure how I did it, but I accomplished all my advanced classes and extra-curriculars and crossed my fingers as I sent in my applications. Miss Burgess kept her word and wrote me a letter of recommendation. When I got an acceptance from my back-up school first, it was bittersweet. My mom felt the need to celebrate because - hey, it was still an acceptance, I was going to college no matter what - but I shook my head. My heart wasn't in it. I was grateful and flattered, but my heart was somewhere else. 

When I got my acceptance letter to Johns Hopkins, I burst into tears. The dream lived on. I was going to Maryland. My dad threw me a party - let me even drink some champagne in the safe confines of our own home. My friends called me names like "Big Time" and told me I was going to "crush it" and made me all flustered and embarrassed like good friends do (of course), but I caught myself looking at the front door longingly a few times, wishing Jason would walk through it. He was studying for mid-terms at the time I got the news and couldn't drive out to see me. He wished me congratulations on the phone countless times and mailed me a cute card that said, "Don't forget to write us. We love you. Signed, The Little People" and it made me smile. I wasn't mad, but it was hard sometimes not having him there. Long distance wasn't hurting us. Yet. I suppose that was the moment I should've figured out that this was about to get really hard. That night I got into Hopkins was very telling. We had been there for all the biggest moments in each other's lives and that was about to change.

When senior year ended in June 2008, I took in every moment. I beamed with pride and made sure my mom took photos of these specific names being called to the front of the stage in the ceremony for their diploma: Chloe Alyssa Fleacorn, Tessa Jamie Jenkins, and Renee Michelle Roberts. Our graduation song the class voted on (Time Won't Let Me Go) blared through the speakers as people threw their caps in the air. The lyrics resonated in my heart as I had an arm around all my friends for beaming photos. Chloe's face was red with emotion in every one of them. I split my summer between getting packed, living it up with my friends and spending time with Jason when he was home from a pleasant freshman year at college. He didn't get to play football as a freshman, he wondered if he was going to red-shirt and play as a fifth-year senior. He said it all depended on what he thought his chances were of getting drafted. I was supportive and it was great to have him home. We got to be us again. He left for football try-outs in August, so I spent my final week in Lakota with my family and friends. They all hugged me tight, and I was driven to the airport where I flew to Maryland to start my new life.

When I stepped foot on that college campus in Baltimore, I had no idea what I was getting into. It was terrifying. I didn't feel worthy, I didn't feel accomplished. I felt like a tiny speck in a sea of people; people that had worked just as hard as I did. I needed to do everything I could to earn this. I tackled the books so hard. I took every writing class I could - Language Arts, Creative Writing, etc. I majored in English Literature. I only took what the board of directors deemed necessary for me to get a degree. Otherwise, I tackled writing head on. If I didn't get a great grade (and there were plenty of times I didn't - college professors are difficult to impress and tough on you), I did a make-up or extra credit assignments. I studied while my roommate went to parties. And there were plenty of times Jason called my dorm and I didn't answer because I was too caught up in my work. It wasn't easy to juggle my old life when it was beginning to feel like a memory. I had a whole new life. It was hard as hell, but it was beautiful and exciting. After two semesters of pinching myself, I finally felt like I belonged. I did go home for the holidays freshman year and spent Christmas with Jason and our families, but something felt off. I should've behaved like the adult I now was and approached the subject, but I didn't. I avoided. I didn't want any more on my plate.

TO BE CONTINUED