// ONE //
It's funny how your future is one thing.
Planned, organized, and focused.
However, in an instant, it can become something completely different. Chaotic, shambolic and blurry.
Often, I find myself wondering how these impossible-to-live-without and carved-the-meaning-of-Earth moments of life are always the ones that pass by unnoticed because of the length.
Erosion, photosynthesis, aging, growth, evolution.
I associate it with the fact that sudden means intense and that's why the things that change our lives are the things that hit us the hardest. Because, in a way, everything else and anything that needs time, is part of the cycle of life and whether you know if it exists or not, it's there and it's giving you life.
Sudden is throw-your-life-away change.
Time is continuity or unnoticed change.
As I am tumbling down the oh-so sacred road to adulthood, I realize, or rather confirm to myself, that once I am of age, everything doesn't just magically make sense.
De facto, nothing makes any sense.
Life is a confusing path that leads to a flaming pit in which I need to crawl in and live in until I have enough burns to show the world, and I, that I have survived. Once I did that, I walk out to a frozen land and an eternal winter where my burns will freeze instantly.
But so will my fingers. My recovery will pain me where I wasn't already hurt.
I will survive catastrophic wind and snow storms to realize that all of this is caused by me. By my idiocy, gullibility and insecurity, I will see that this hell isn't given to me, but created and I will remind myself why the fucking hell hurricanes are named after people.
I am not a Michelle or a Marilyn that had struck in 1995 and 2001. Nor will I ever be.
I am a May that struck Earth in 1997 and I didn't shake the ground enough or make anything turn into rubble. No.
Instead, I crashed into the lives of two people desperately in love and showed them what sacrifice really meant.
I grew up to be a stressed out maniac and to be a complete control freak.
I became passionate about freedom, its history and the artistic way to express it.
Instead, I decided to send a message and shake the ground ignorance lives on and to make everyone wake up and turn negativity into rubble.
"Your ticket, ma'am?" A man by the name of 'Oliver', it seems, says waking me up from my daze.
I give my train ticket to the man who is perfectly bilingual with his excellent English. He wears a burgundy suit and his blonde hair to the left. He rips the ticket down the middle, only halfway. He sends me a smile before placing the ticket in the palm of my hand again. I ready myself for the 5 and a half hour trip and make myself comfortable to regain the sleep I lost.
Waking up at 4 AM to take a train at 5 only to get to destination at around 11 to then take a two hour train again is no piece of cake.
I keep my eye on the mountains falling behind the Glacier Express and I recollect my past in order to understand the future I am throwing myself in.
All that crap about the past being the past and that it's all behind you now is just that, crap. Your past might not make your future, but it makes you.
Your past pushes you, breaks you or consumes you. It doesn't have to be tragic to mean something and a tragic past doesn't guarantee a miserable future, but a strong person.
My past is my drive. The lack of mind blowing adventures and heartbreaks prove to me that I have so much left to live. But at the same time, what a standard for life have I set for myself to achieve?
I was born right here in Switzerland. At a very young age, three I think, I moved to England because of my dad's job in a big construction company. When my mom got transferred to France for her job, I was 9 and devastated. I needed to start a new life. I had just finished "collège" when my grandmother got sick and we had to go back home.
We moved to St-Moritz to be near her. We loved and cared and nurtured, but nothing was enough. The Alzheimer's had hit its peak and she left us a year after we had moved.
Losing an important part of your family whom you have only been able to love over the phone or on Skype calls for the biggest part of your life is tragic and frustrating.
My mother and father had spent nights grieving together over the idea that they had always prioritized their jobs over their family, but they have always done what's best for me and there was nothing we could have possibly done to save die Oma.
I miss her every day. I can still smell her lavender perfume on the cards she'd send me all those years. My granddad has coped very well. He would come into the hospital with a smile on his face and make sure to leave with one as well.
He always said that he regretted breaking to tears whenever she remembered him. He'd cry tears of joy of course, but he didn't want her to see him like that. On the other hand, when she was sucked into oblivion, he would leave her room with a smile plastered on his face. One smile of hurt, anger and strength. I always admired him.
Since she died, my grandfather has locked himself in his room watching old home videos and holding onto a piece of paper he has not let anyone see. I know it's a letter from die Oma, but I always wonder.
Once the mountains out my window are exchanged for the trees of the evergreen nature of this country, I dedicate all my attention to what is outside, to the present.
I take a couple of pictures, of course, and without realizing it before it happened, I am taken aback when darkness veils and I remember the tunnel this train has to pass through.
Tunnels have always been a big fear of mine. Maybe it's a derivation of my claustrophobia. The way darkness suddenly and innocently drapes over our heads like nothing is supposed to be wrong, but God, we are surrounded by every side with no way out, but the obvious and single one. What if that gets blocked?
Ah, there it is. My definition of a tunnel proves that the fear is caused by my claustrophobia and that every fear is the result of never ending "what ifs".
"Hello, is this seat taken?" A girl with a shy voice asks me, tucking a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. A constellation of freckles lighten her face and her eyes are as shining as her hair.
"Oh, no, go ahead," I blurt out realizing I have been silent for quite too long.
"So, where are you going, eum..."
"May," I say erasing her hesitation with a hand there for her to shake.
"Nice to meet you, May. I'm Cassandra. I'm going to the open house at Franklin University. You? "
"No way, me too."
She bends over with a hand on her chest and a look of surprise, "finally, I never thought I'd meet a girl my age into liberal arts before being consumed by the school anxiety.
"You know," she continues. "Once school starts, you can't really focus on creating relationships and school, alone, sucks."
"Yeah, I guess it's hard to start school not knowing a person as well. Let alone spending the year alone. "
"You're going for a BA, right?" I continue as she nods. "What's your major?"
She looks a bit scared or ashamed. I never was very good at putting words to the reactions I see.
"Well, I have been struggling between three majors and that's the main reason I am going to the open house today. I need to figure this out before I apply."
"So, what are your options? Maybe I can help. "
"History, international relations and international economics."
"Wow," I say setting my back on the seat. "That's so different from my own field of interest. I was going to do a combined major with Art History & Visual Culture linked with Political Science. But, I realized I wanted Psychology as a major as well so I am doing a double major. Art History/Visual Culture and Psychology. It'll take more time, but at least I don't need to be nervous about narrowing my path for job options."
After a slight pause, I think I have to speak up again. I did tell her I was going to help.
"Hey, you could do a combined or double major too. If you're up for the work, it's great, because you'll learn what you want and can decide on your field of work after."
"You really think so?"
"Of course. You can combine two majors between Economics, Management and Political Science. Or just do a double major between the three choices you initially gave me. However, that'll take more time."
"Wow, thanks. I completely forgot about that option. It was always a make it or break it way of seeing it for me, with one choice. I will totally look into it when we get there. Speaking of which, when are we getting there?"
I slip down the sleeve of my black and grey flannel to check the time on my watch.
"Well, it is 9h30, so in about two hours we will get at our stop and it'll only be another two hours from there."
"God," she starts, looking out the window. "Going all this way just makes me realize how far I'll be from my family when I move into a dorm."
"I know. That's all I could think about this whole train ride. I'm from St-Moritz."
"Oh my goodness. That's an even longer way than me. I'm from Chur."
"Oh," I simply say hoping she'll speak up again, and she does.
"So, what kind of a family do you have?" She asks me taking me off guard. I have never quite been asked the question like that.
"Well, I have a younger and an older brother. My parents are together, I have all my grandparents excluding a grandmother that passed not very long ago. I have two aunts and three uncles. Also, twin cousins on the way alongside 2 other first cousins. You?"
"Wow. You are the first person who really gave me a kind of answer I wanted. Short and sweet with all the information you need to know. Well, I have divorced parents that hate each other, but manage to hide it when they are around us. No one has died yet. I am Italian born so I have a huge family with 12 first cousins."
"Damn, that must be fun."
"It is. Although, having a lot of siblings can sometimes be exhausting. I have three older siblings. All men."
"Holy shit."
"You can say that again."
"Well, Cass. I'll talk to you again when I wake. I really need a nap right now."
"Sleep tight," she says with a smile before looking out the window and letting me my peace.
***
I walk down the train alley to the bathroom at the far end of the wagon. I continue to stare at the pine trees that have still not been exhausted by recent intense industrialization. As I walk the narrow path with my eyes on the windows, I suddenly bump into a hard chest.
When I look up, a man, about a few years older than me, looks down on me with threatening eyes.
I don't say a word and he doesn't either. We just look at each other for a whole minute that seems like an eternity.
"You need to come with me," he says with a stern voice.
I follow him without even hesitating. He leads me to the way I was going, to the bathroom. He slides the grey door open and brings me in behind him when the coast is clear.
"What do you want?" I ask him not a bit afraid, but with a foreign feeling in the pit of my stomach.
He doesn't say anything. He gets closer and closer to me and I wonder what he will do next. When there is only an inch between us and I need to look up to him to see his eyes, he turns the sink knob and lets the water run. I assume to mask our voices. He walks back with a teasing smile.
"What do you want?"
"To understand. They told me this is the only way."
"They? Understand what? How am of any use? I don't know you."
The door behind me slides open and a black gloved hand keeps any sounds from escaping my mouth. His other holds my neck firmly in place.
"Now let's get down to business."
After a flood of images, I wake up in terror. I must have jerked or gasped for Cass to react the way she did.
She jumps from her seat to the now empty one beside me.
"What did you see, darling?" she asks caressing me and playing with my hair, just like a mom would do.
I explain everything I remember to the very detail.
"This part, which I just explained with how I meet him and the bathroom, is always clear and vivid. But this reoccurring dream is constant enough that the same parts are always blurry."
"Do you want to try and explain?" She lets go of me and gives me space to sit upright again.
"After he says 'let's get down to business', I remember the shine of his blue eyes, something happening with my stomach, lots of blood and a clipper. That's all. The rest is distant and I always forget about an hour after the dream. I always write it down but the blurry parts of every dream don't even make a puzzle, because it's always the same."
"That is so weird, May. And you're telling me that you have never met this person? Ever?"
"Never. After the first two times, I looked through every one of my pictures to try and find him, but I never found anyone that even looks like him. Then I searched through celebrities I knew that matched the criteria and still, nothing."
"Describe him again for me."
"Dark hair, starts of a beard every time. It's not like it grows or he suddenly shaves. He always looks as if the dream was always in the same period of time. His eyes are a shimmering blue. He has a really big Adam's apple. He is almost a head taller than me. He is in shape and is always wearing the same thing. Black jeans, black boots and a grey jacket zipped halfway over a plain white shirt."
"You say he seems older, right?"
I nod. I don't know where she is going with this.
"Okay, so I have a theory and it could totally turn your life in a movie if you confront someone about this." She whips her hair behind her shoulders and keeps her hands raised in front of her in excitement.
"Are you ready for this?" Again, I nod.
"He is your long lost brother that you only met when you were a baby and your brain was capable of taking a lost image of him as a child, the age he was when you were with him, and turn it into the most probable way he would look now, mixed with your definition of a hot guy."
After a long pause and an impossible-to-erase satisfied smile on her face, she raises her head and looks straight at me. Her smile slowly fades. Guess it wasn't impossible to erase.
"He was hurting you in your dream, May. You have family issues. You so totally lied about everything you told me about your family. Ugh God, to think I wanted to share my dorm with a liar."
"Hey, Cass, I was not lying. I don't have any family issues that I know of. I am totally telling you the truth," I say smoothly with a little nudge on her shoulder. She shakes her head with a smile as if she were giving into trusting me.
"You wanted to ask me something?" I say avoiding eye contact. I try to hide my huge smile.
"Yeah, well, you already know. Oh, alright, I know you want to hear it. You're a great friend. I want to share a dorm together."
I stay silent, still looking out the window. She accused me of a liar. I am going to get back at her.
"I-I guess that's a... no," she says almost holding back sobs.
I swiftly turn, "totally messing with you, Cass. I'd love to share a room with you. Let's just hope I get into this school."
"Oh, you will. And I will. We will be roommates. We share the same interests and we'll study together. Oh my God, I am so cheesy and I should stop talking."
She is so funny. Her bubbly personality and sometimes dramatic reactions are the most interesting part about her.
I laugh, harder than I have in a while, to her joie de vivre and charisma. I have only met her for a half an hour or so and I already love to be around her.
Cassandra is great.
Her hair reminds me of the locket my grandmother sent me when I was 10, in France, that was a golden yellow and had a little girl carved on the circle it held as a pendant.
Her nurturing and loving instincts remind me of those of a sister I never had.
I absolutely adore this summer dress wearing quirky girl that is going to be my roommate.
Oh my God, I am already talking like her.
Life has hit me a couple of times. Whether it was with my ruined friendships, my lack of luck or with the loss of my grandmother, I have held my head high through the toughest of my times. Not as high as possible, but the most I possibly could and that's what counts, right?
I love trees and nature, but I am still an intensely tunnel fearing claustrophobic who has never felt love and needs to know how the mind works enough to take a double major even though I let my heart make the decisions for me.
The country I want to visit the most is Greece, but since a child, it had always been a dream for it to be a honeymoon trip. My thoughts take a trail that leads me to my dream and I try going to back to understand how.
Trip. Plane. Transportation. Train. My life. School. Cass. Roommates. Bed. Sleep. Dream.
But what was the first thing that even made me think that led me to my dream again? Right, I was talking about trees.
I take out my pen and write my thought of the day in the little white book I carry everywhere.
Dreamed again. Made a friend. My future is not going so bad for now. I hope I won't ruin it again.
9 : 59 AM || 11/07/15
"Oh my God, May, look!"
I stare out the window where Cass' index points. I am mesmerized by the beautiful lake; the one surrounded by the pine trees; the one that reflects the sunlight.
Maybe befriending Cassandra isn't bad at all