What We Take Away

Chapter 26 | Aram

February 3rd, 2006

The maddening herd of returning students moves as the crosswalk light turns green.

The accumulated snowfall from the last week has now muddied to an ugly black and brown color. I sidestep a slush puddle as I tread over the curb, entering north campus near Finch Hall.

I miss the quiet of winter session. Already, campus feels too crowded, too stimulating, and just too much. I miss the emptiness of the paved paths down the Lawn, the predictable silence of the Burnie, and most of all, I miss the absence of stupid gym rats at Tern Sports Center hogging all the machines.

And today, the gym rats have come back in droves.

"They're not even using the equipment right," I grumble to Mal.

The two of us managed to cram into an unoccupied corner of the gym, but the noise level and number of bodies in here is too much for me to handle.

"Not everyone is as dedicated as you," Mal comments over the thumping bass of a heavily edited DMX song.

He motions for me to take the bench. Lowering, I suck in a breath before lifting the heavy weights off of the rack.

"This semester is going to be great!" he says excitedly while spotting me through my reps. "I'm taking all these amazing classes. It's kind of bewildering. Back when I was with the Rangers, it was easy to figure out what my assignment was, because there was only one job and that was to destroy the enemy. But here, the options are endless! It was impossible to choose between metaphysics, scuba, elementary ancient Greek, ballroom dancing, and introduction to feminist theory--"

"Why the hell would you want to study feminist theory?" I pant angrily, resting the bar back onto the rack.

"It's good to be well-rounded," Mal replies. "Plus, the apostle Paul talks about becoming like the people you want to catch. It's all about knowing your context."

I stare up into my friend's eyes. "You want to catch... feminists? For your future congregation?"

Mal shrugs wordlessly. Irritated, I rise from the bench and reach for my towel.

"You know, it's completely unfair. You're not even trying at this point. You're just taking whatever class you want to take because you can."

"You can, too," he insists. "The point of college is to explore!"

"What do you think I've been doing these past four years?" I spit, storming towards my gym bag hanging at the lockers. "I've put in the time here, but somehow still can't figure out what I'm supposed to do after I graduate!"

"Maybe you're overthinking it," Mal suggests, trailing me. "Besides, all of our steps in life are already determined anyway."

I sling the strap of my gym bag over my shoulder and glower at him. "You would say something like that. If God has a plan, then why doesn't he just tell it to me? Why string me along like some cat toy?"

We pass a few athletes from the track team as I stalk down the corridor. Their weary expressions speak volumes of the recent news of the men's team being cut. I don't blame them. It's hard being rejected.

"Are... we still talking about school, or is this about Cassie?" Mal asks delicately.

I push the doors open and step outside. I pinch the bridge of my nose near my brows and heave a sigh.

"No. Maybe. I don't know."

I drop down onto a nearby bench, feeling tired and anxious.

"She hasn't told her parents about me yet," I voice aloud. "I feel like she's playing me, leading me on. I think I'm the more invested one in this relationship."