The Aid

Part 2

Leaving for class this morning, I had anticipated a lot of things—making some pretty notes, having a nap or two in class, getting to the bakery that was two blocks away just in time to buy the best donuts I'd ever had in my life before they were sold out. Of course, there was also the thought that that day's weather might take a malevolent turn; a thought I had promptly brushed off, as if my confidence and faith in my leather jacket could be enough to fight off the wrath of the sky.

I liked to think I was as prepared for bad situations as I was for good ones. But there I was, getting off my regular bus with a stranger because he had noticed some creepy guy following me. Not only that, but he was walking me home because the said guy got off at my station. Naturally. I was thinking that I might as well just go to sleep immediately after I got home and forced this day into being over and done.

"Alright," Harry sighed, watching our bus leave without him, and then turned to me, his sour expression giving away the fact that he was probably having the same train of thought. "Let's get you home."

"Okay."

"You live far from here?"

"Nope, a few minutes down the street."

"Alright," He repeated, this time more optimistically, "let's go."

I gripped the strap of my backpack as we started walking in silence, and boy, what an awkward silence it was. Clearly, neither of us was ready to be paired in such a disheartening situation this fine evening, so much so that I believed we both couldn't wait for this to become a faded memory. I was, in fact, already rewiring my brain to take note of as few things on my way home as possible. I refused to have this ingrained in my brain. I refused to have it become a core memory.

And thinking about it that way only proved that it was becoming a core memory as we walked.

"So." Harry cleared his throat, his voice surprising me a bit, "how come you're studying Journalism?"

"Oh, to spite my parents."

From the corner of my eye, I see his head turn to me, obviously not expecting that answer to his please-let's-make-small-talk-so-this-is-less-weird question. "Oh? Why? I mean, nice, but why?"

I smiled at his comment, "They're both lawyers and, obviously, wanted me to follow in their footsteps. I never had any interest in it and at first, they were, like, disappointed, but nothing extreme. And then as the years went by and I was closer to going to college, they became unbearable."

"Yeah, I feel that." He nodded, "You guys ever smooth it over?"

"Oh yeah, the whole thing culminated when I took a gap year after high school, and they never mentioned it again. They even ask me how my studies are going. Put on brave faces while listening about something that isn't law."

Harry grinned, even laughed a little, "Stick it to the man." I nodded back at his words, and he continued, "You took the gap year so they would stop nagging you about it?"

A door I had long ago sealed shut rattled in my head, for the first time in a while, but I was able to push it back and add another extra lock to it with a smile on my face. "Something like that." I took a deep breath before remembering that I had free will and I could change the subject, "What about you, why Sports Analytics?"

"Well, I didn't have any kind of pressure from my folks, at least when it came to my studies, so... I just picked something I liked." He shrugged, and it was enough to make me jealous of him. "I like football, I'd like to be a sports pundit. Or like a broadcaster on a sports show, anything where I can talk about it to an audience for a living."