No Strings

CHAPTER 6--Ghost in the Graveyard

"I want to work in advertising... not Burger King."

"It's the same thing," my mother shot back at me.

"Bill Gates dropped out of college and so did Steve Jobs."

"You are not as smart as them. Look at your report cards--you keep getting all C's. How will you support yourself?"

"I want to make advertisements. I think it would be fun and creative."

"Oh, creative?" my mother said. "That doesn't make any money."

Tears brimmed in my eyes.

"I'm only saying these things because I care about you, Betsy."

"Bess," I corrected her.

"Betsy," she fired back. "Now, you will raise your grade in Geology. And you are grounded for two months. If I hear you object to going to a four-year college again, you will do all the dishes for those two months."

I opened and shut my mouth. I couldn't go against her.

She took in a deep breath. "And you will go to a college nearby. You know how much plane tickets cost?"

I was already applying to vocational schools far from her. But I was sure that the college counselor would buckle to my Mother's wishes. Everyone did.

***

I paced the halls in front of my next class as I waited for my Mom to pick up. I crouched myself into a corner. The cellphone brick was hot in my hands. She wanted me to call every week, but I often forgot. Or maybe I wanted to forget.

"How is it going?" she asked in that June Cleaver voice she used when she wasn't looking for an answer.

I had to lie. She wouldn't hear it if I said, "Not so well." It was not an acceptable answer. She ignored me when I said that or argued with me that wasn't how I really felt about college.

"Good," I replied.

"How are classes?"

"OK," I said trying to hide my misery.

"Oh good," she said.

"I still want to leave college."

"It's too early, you wouldn't know. You don't know anything about college."

I wiped my ear and shook my hand. The cellphone was heavy. "I still don't like it here."

"Are the classes bad?" she asked. I already knew this wasn't going anywhere.

"No, it's that I don't believe I belong here. I never wanted to go to college. I wanted to go to a vocational school."

"Look, my friend Holly has a son that went to that college and became a lawyer. You have to get used to it, dear. I know it's different from what you're used to, but I'm sure you'll like it."

"I want to leave."

"And then what will you do? You'll be a drop out." Her voice had an edge to it as if I should know what that would mean. After her saying it so many times I knew what she thought. I would work at McDonalds, Burger King or something, as if that was the worst job on the planet. I wondered what the people who worked there actually thought of their jobs.

"I want to go to vocational school. Get an associates degree in advertising."

"And who will pay for that? How are you planning to support yourself if you do that?"

I couldn't answer because her voice was raising in pitch. There was a threat in her voice.

The noose around my neck tightened. Tears brimmed, but I didn't allow them to fall. The hall was too public.