Love and the Sea and Everything in Between

chapter one

My name is Adam West and I exist.

My alarm clock blinking 7:00 AM, I scrawl these words into my journal. My gaze traces the ink as it dries on the page and I realize I have nothing left to say. My roommate is gone for the weekend (he comes back today sometime) so I'm alone in my room right now. Chapel begins in fifteen minutes and I know I should head that way, but I can't bring myself to move. It's optional, but I don't have anything better to do and I know that there's no reason to stay in my room all day.

When I regain control of my body, I close my journal and shove it inside my backpack. I toss it over my shoulder as I make my way to the chapel.

At the moment, I am not entirely sure why I am at a Bible college. Of course, there are a lot of things I am not sure of. Like whether or not I even believe there is a God anymore.

Or why I am so screwed up.

I find my seat at the back of the chapel and set my backpack next to me. There was a day when I left that seat empty, but, as with all days, that is gone now too.

I pull my sleeves down and cross my arms, propping my feet up on the legs of the seat in front of me. My jaw tenses when Jeremiah Jackson walks up to the pulpit. He opens his Bible and starts talking, but I don't hear him.

After a few minutes pass, I find myself drifting through the small group of students as they head toward the Education Building, chatting with each other, laughing off their fatigue. Truth be told, I'm jealous. They have something I never seem to be able to hold onto. But I guess it's there right. They're not me and I'm not them.

For all I know, it took them a long time to get to this point. I try not to judge, but it's hard. Because all I want is what they have and all I see is what I don't have.

Oliver bumps into my shoulder as he passes me. Glancing back, he mutters, "Sorry," and continues his conversation with Jeremiah. I shrug it off and adjust my hood.

As I enter the Ed Building, I am half-tempted to skip class today. I have absolutely no desire to sit through another lecture on theology or philosophy or apologetics or even mathematics. (I hate math.)

My body makes my mind up for me as I pass the door to Systematic Theology and duck inside the restrooms. I lock myself inside one of the stalls and sit there, trying not to hyperventilate.

Being in a small school makes things so much worse. There is really no avoiding them. The liars, that is. The traitors. The people responsible for turning me into a shadow of who I was.

My mind wanders back to a time when I was happy. But the memories are too far gone and they crumble to pieces in my hands, like a castle made of sand.

I wait until I am sure all my classmates have gone inside the classroom, and then I walk out of the bathroom. Leaving the Ed Building behind, I make my way across the parking lot toward the Administrative Building. I slip behind it, between the wall and a fence that separates me from a train track.

I slip my backpack off my shoulders, unzip the front pouch, and reach in, producing a pack of cigarettes. I light one and bring it to my lips, inhaling deeply. The smoke fills my lungs as I hold my breath, chest burning. I let it out in a slow exhale, letting the smoke wrap itself around me.

In the distance, I hear the train's horn and I can feel the thunder of the steel on the earth as it draws nearer and nearer. It races by in a blur just as I return the cigarette to my lips. I let it hang there, watching each car as it passes by.