No Strings

CHAPTER 6--Ghost in the Graveyard

"Don't say that. College was one of the best experiences of my life. If you want to leave we can discuss it when the semester ends, OK?"

I was forced to reply yes. It wasn't as if I had a choice.

"In the meantime, get your grades up. I want to see A's on the next report card." She said it as if she were joking, but I knew she wasn't.

"You know your old friend Britney?"

I didn't remember having a friend Britney. It took me a while, but then I realized that if was her friend's daughter who was about the same age as I was.

"Yes, I know Britney," I said a bit glum.

"She went to Princeton! She's going to become a politician looking at how well she is doing."

I wanted to say, "Good for her," but I knew it would do no good.

"Britney asked about you, too."

I filled the rest of the conversation with un-huhs and little acknowledgements hoping maybe she would notice, but she didn't. She hung up the phone without waiting for me to say goodbye.

***

The weight lifted off my chest. It was the end of the semester. I could go home. I could escape this hell. I dialed, my hands twitching and trembling along the buttons.

"I can quit now, right?" I asked.

"I paid your tuition already," my mother said, "Besides what are you going to do when you're here?"

I choked, gasping for air. The heat of the phone was making the insides of my ear feel like it was baking.

"I don't know, but I don't want to stay here."

"You know you won't be able to get into another college if you drop out."

"But I don't want to stay here."

"How are you doing in your classes?"

"OK," I said.

"Then stay another semester."

"But..."

"Look, the tuition was five thousand dollars. It's non-refundable. I can't do anything about getting it back now. Just stay for another semester. We agreed to this, right?"

I didn't reply. I felt the noose tighten around my neck.

"What classes are you going to take this semester?"

I hadn't signed up for anything. She signed up for another semester without asking me. She hadn't listened to anything I said about hating college. My reasons weren't good enough. Hating this place with the drones of people cloistered together wasn't good enough.

"I don't know."

"Well, think about it. I have to go we're going out for an opera."

"Oh, which one?" I asked to be polite.

"Carmen. My father wants to see it. Look I have to go. Study well. You don't want to flunk out do you?"

The phone clicked again, cutting off my chance to answer.

***

My cellphone brick rang. I thought it was my mother for a second, but then recognized it wasn't her number.

"Hello..." a deep male voice said.

I got ready to pitch into the wrong number speech. I braced myself. I didn't have friends that would call me.

"Hello," I said. "May I ask who is calling?"

"William...." he paused and then added, "William Bryant. You may not remember me but I went to school with you when we were younger... and church."

I didn't answer. I could hear him shift uncomfortably through the static of the phone.

"Your dad gave me your number... so I called... my mom often wondered about you..."

"Yes, I remember you," I said, miserable.

"So how are you doing?" he asked.

I sighed. "Do you want the canned answer or the honest one?"

He paused. "Honest one."

"How much time do you have?" I asked, looking at the dorm room clock. Each tick of the clock drove me crazy.

"A good amount," he said.

"Then I'll tell you it in three words," I said. "I hate college."

"What happened?" he asked.

Class was approaching, but I didn't tell him that. I explained the entire situation to him, all of my pent up feelings. He was patient and listened to everything.

"I feel like an idiot... I'm dumping it all on you."

"No, I understand how difficult it must have been. You can get out--you have options. You can go to the Mental Health center--there has to be one."

"I will not hear the end of it from my mom. She will be mad. I can't quit."

"I won't persuade you to do what you don't want to, Besty," he said, naturally slipping into his old nickname for me. "But I'm really concerned for you. From what you said, you are on the point of breaking. But if you need any help, I am still here for you. Understand that."

I laughed, a little bitter. "Are you trying to rescue me? Pity me or something?"

He made a sound low in his throat. "No. Never. You make your own decisions. I'll be here to listen and give advice when you want it. Weren't we friends before?"

A million years had passed since I'd heard someone call me their friend.

"Yes," I said. "But then that means you have to lean on me too. I can give you advice on girls," I teased. I remembered his crush on Sally Franks back in middle school.

He laughed. "I have a girlfriend, so I may ask you weird questions. But I don't think I need the advice."

That felt safer for me. I didn't have to worry about if there would be tension between us.

"So, why did you call?" I asked.

"My mom constantly calls me up and says, 'Do you remember Bess? Do you know what happened to her?'"

I laughed. "I wrote you..."

"Letters? I never got them."

Anger bubbled up in me. I handed them to Dad. I thought he would send them.

"Never mind," I said. "So you survived high school intact?"

"Yes. You know, usual stuff. I dated, participated in a few sports, nothing exciting."

"Ah, I wish I was there with you." My mood was lightening as I imagined him, maybe playing baseball or soccer... I wondered if they played football.

"My mom still teaches piano," he supplied. "I play a little too."

The phone was warm to the touch and killing my ear, but the heat didn't bother me.

"Really?" I asked. I only remembered one song she taught me. "What are you majoring in?"

"Architecture," he said, really proud. "I want to build houses."

I smiled. Sounded like him. I glanced outside, it was getting dark. "It's dinner time... I have to get going."

"Look, Besty," he said, "If you need to talk to me, I'm free in the evenings on Friday."

"You don't date then?"

I could hear the grin in his voice. "That's Saturday and Sunday. Anyway, you can talk to me about what you like. It was really nice talking to you. Catching up was fun. Let's do it again."

William was the reason I didn't commit suicide. He gave me something to look forward to when I felt as if the world was stacked against me. Even as my grades sank into further pits of hell. Even if the world came crashing around, having a friend to talk to kept me from contemplating doing worse things.