my phone to make sure I’m heading in the correct direction when I notice the dorm now seems farther away than when I started.
Either the girl who gave me directions at dorm registration doesn’t know the difference between left and right, or I took a wrong turn somewhere.
Before I can get frustrated, I turn on the spot and drag my suitcase back in the other direction. It bumps along the tree-lined path. Normally, I’d take advantage of the detour, observe the lay of the land so to speak, but the campus at Colchester University is nothing like the beautiful one I’m used to at UVM. Here, everything is all angles and glass, and the few brick buildings I’ve passed have been painted obnoxious colors.
I’m tempted to think the transfer from UVM to CU was a bad idea, but that’s only because of the lingering influence of my family visit. As much as I love my parents, I go home as little as possible because Mom’s worrying drives the rational right from my brain. It was a relief to pack my things and leave again.
Then I arrived at the airport.
First, I was charged for excess baggage because Mom insisted I take everything I could possibly need—which would include the kitchen sink if it were up to her.
On the plane, I was lucky enough to get seated next to a young mother with a baby-slash-puke machine that cried the whole time. It would have been fine if I’d had my noise-canceling headphones with me, but apparently, they were the one thing I hadn’t packed.
Then this woman asked me to hold her baby while she went to the bathroom. First of all, who does that? I don’t know anything about babies. Especially screaming ones. And suddenly people were looking at me to shut this thing up.
I’m certain she was in the restroom crying over her life choices because she took forever. If we weren’t in a tin can with no chance of escape, I would’ve worried about her not coming back.
The literal icing on my day was when this baby, still crying and red faced, got so worked up it threw up all over me. This thick, white, milky kind of vomit, which I can still smell.
I try to focus on the positives in life, but the only positive thing about that flight was getting off the plane once we landed …
Until some blind old lady ran her suitcase over my foot at baggage claim.
So, I have a bruised foot, smell like puke, can’t find my new dorm, and … and … I take a deep breath before I start feeling overwhelmed.
Can I get a do-over, please?
I shake my head and give a small laugh. I can still turn this around. A bad morning does not have to equal a terrible day.
Positives, Zach. Like … my private room. My TA position. The fact I’m here, alone, with no Seth as my security blanket and no one to treat me like I’m incapable. And the biggest positive of all, there is absolutely no reason for me to be on the radar of any primitive-minded jock.
Yes, this will be … fine.
I know I’m heading in the right direction when I pass people carrying luggage too.
See? I can do this. I’ve found my way across campus without someone holding my hand. I can be a strong, independent, ah, person. I let myself smile.
My phone starts to ring as I reach Albany Hall at last, and I stop to fish it from my pocket before cradling it between my ear and shoulder. “This is Zach.”
“Are you always going to answer my calls like that?” Seth’s teasing voice loosens tension I wasn’t aware I was carrying.
“I like to be prepared. You never know who’s calling.”
“You have caller ID.”
“Well I know that, but what if it’s not you calling from your phone? It could be anyone. I want to sound professional.”
He starts to laugh. “Who the hell else would be calling from my phone?”
“Police? Lawyer? Angry ex-girlfriend? What if it’s a concerned citizen because you’ve been in an accident?”
His answering silence is heavy with amusement. “Let’s get this straight. If I’m in an accident, your main concern is that you sound professional?”
“You never know the emotional capacity of the person you’re dealing with. In fact, I rarely know your emotional capacity.”
“It definitely varies when I talk to you.”
I scowl. “And now you’re teasing me.”
“How is CU?” He smoothly changes the subject, and I let it go.