April Showers [Unfaithful Rewritten]

14 | november nineteenth

14
november nineteenth

Open Houses, in general, weren't my cup of tea.

The ones I was used to were filled with smug parents who were all-too eager to share stories of their children's achievements and every class was a competition instead of a place to learn. Whoever's child answered the questions first was privy to rolling eyes from the other students and awed looks from their parents. It was a toxic atmosphere and that was the reason why, over the years, I'd stopped going at all.

College was very different from elementary school, but the structure of the Open House was unfortunately similar. It was a chance for parents to see what they were getting for the obscene amount of dollars they spent per year, and meet the esteemed professors they'd  heard their children droning on about all year. In short, it would be a gigantic pissing contest, and although it was a terrible prospect, it was necessary.

The morning of, I woke up slightly later than usual, and Nate was already gone. I was thankful for that, because it meant that I didn't have to talk to him. I was afraid of what I might've said if I did.

I took a shower, got dressed, and headed out the door by half-past eight. My recollection of past conversations with Nate, along with information from the school's website, told me that I would make it just in time for his first class of the day, Theories of Language and Literature. The website had also provided helpful information about which building and classroom it would be held in, and which campus parking lot was closest to where I was going, so I was positive that nothing could go wrong. Relatively speaking, of course.

My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and my heart was beating out of my chest. It was stupid to be afraid, yet I was. Not afraid to see the truth, but of what might come afterward. Every second on the road felt frozen in time, each part of me torn apart and fighting each other for the gold. Stupid on their part too, for in a situation like this — there were no winners.

Like the rest of Westchester, the college town was perched on low, green hills, and the various buildings arose like towers of salt from the grounds. It was, admittedly, quite beautiful. On either side, there was a winding road leading past rows of brick houses and casual eateries, where tiny people danced in and out of vision. On the main campus, students weaved between the grand buildings on which pale strands of ivy were beginning to grow, and congregated on the vast lawns which were perfectly green, and perfectly well-kept. Everyone moved with purpose, and were so engrossed in everything that I felt like an intruder on the picturesque scene. Vaguely, I remembered my own college days, and smiled slightly at the reminder.

The English department was located on the west side of the campus, and it was about a half-mile drive from the main entrance. The roads moved in playful swirls, and about four times I would come across little booths in which a student would kindly ask where I was going and direct me there. I once even passed some sort of fair, and even in the wintry cold the students were jumping up and down, wearing their school colors, and smiling without a care in the world.

Parking, luckily, was easy to find, even with the added presence of the parents. Before I got out of the car, I sat there for a moment, gazing at the scene. The sidewalk and lawn leading up to the building were covered in people; students dressed casually and parents dressed like they were either going to business meetings or balls. They squinted against a sunshine which didn't exist; blocked out by the imposing building they were all lined up against. One-by-one, they disappeared into its depths.