My Sweetest Escape

“I swear, I’m not normally this weird,” she said as we joined the lunchtime throng and descended into the food court. Only a second later she said, “Okay, that’s a complete lie. I am normally this weird.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” I whispered as we scoped out what was available. The longest lines were for pizza and burgers and the pseudo “Taco Bell,” so we headed to get wraps since those were the quickest. I happened to be on Hannah’s “good” side, but I was more than aware of the stares she got. It was one of those things. You saw her, realized there was something different about her, did a look again to check and then couldn’t look away.

She just smiled and giggled and acted like a normal girl. She got a hummus wrap and I ordered the special, known as the “Winslow,” which was basically a chicken caesar wrap with the addition of crushed croutons, which was such a brilliant idea that I couldn’t believe someone hadn’t thought of it sooner.

Finding a seat turned out to be a challenge, but we found a table for the two of us in a corner. I was about to say something, but Hannah beat me to it.

“So, in light of wanting to get things out in the open, yes, it’s a burn. It happened when I was a kid and it’s a long story and I’d rather not go into it because it’s a bit of a downer and a bit of a conversation killer and usually after I tell it I never see whoever I told it to again. Which is my weird way of saying that I don’t want to make you uncomfortable this early in our relationship. Wow, why do I keep doing that? I am so sorry.”

“No big,” I said, unable to stop laughing. “How about you tell me something else? Where are you from?”

She chewed and swallowed before she spoke. “Up north. The boondocks. The sticks. The butthole of Maine. Whatever you want to call it. I couldn’t afford to go out of state and this was the biggest school in Maine. Great place to get lost in, you know?”

I did.

“What’s your major?” she said after taking another bite of her wrap.

“Poli-sci.”

“Me, too. Although, that’s only because it sounded better than history and I’m a bit of a law junkie. I have no idea what I want to do, but I figured it was as good as anything else. Plus, in the upper level classes we get to debate and that’s kind of one of my favorite things. You?”

“I used to want to be president, or a senator or something,” I said. I hadn’t decided quite what yet. I figured I’d start out in local government and work my way up.

“Used to?”

“Another one of those long stories that’s a bit of a downer that I’d rather not tell.”

Hannah nodded. Honestly, the burn wasn’t that bad once you’d been looking at it for a while. You got used to it, and the fact that Hannah didn’t seem bothered about it helped.

“I hear you, girl.” We finished our lunch and talked more about the class, and Hannah told me that as long as I did the reading and had a reasonable grasp of the current political climate, I’d be fine. I wasn’t so sure, but I took her word for it.

“Are you on campus?” she asked as we dumped our trays and made our way upstairs to the Starbucks. Hannah said she needed her next caffeine fix.

“No. I live in a house in Bangor with my sister and a bunch of her friends.” Hannah let out a dreamy sigh.

“That sounds awesome. I’m stuck on campus. Yay, scholarship.” She sounded so enthused. “I’ve only lived with my roommate for a few weeks, and she’s already stopped talking to me. Luckily, she has a boyfriend with an apartment, so she usually stays there.”

Once again, been there, done that.

“It’s awesome if you feel like having three sets of parents always watching your every move.” I hadn’t meant to share so much about myself, but I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t talked to anyone like this in a while, and there was something about Hannah. I’d known her less than a few hours, but it was like we’d met before, even though that was impossible.

“That sucks,” she said as she got in line. I decided to get my second round of tea just for the heck of it. The line was crazy long with everyone jonesing for their next fix like a bunch of junkies standing in line for methadone. Actually, the methadone was probably cheaper.

By the time we got our drinks and found a table crushed in a corner and two seats, it was almost time for my next class. I downed my tea and told Hannah I’d see her on Wednesday. We hadn’t talked about the rest of our class schedules, but the chances of me seeing her in another of my classes were actually pretty good, and I had the feeling I would.

I was searching for Neville Hall, which housed my English class, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Fancy seeing you here, Red.” I pivoted and found the ever-grinning face of Dusty Sharp. He pulled a set of headphones nearly identical to the ones I had off his ears and let them rest around his neck. His wardrobe of baggy everything hadn’t deviated, and I found myself wondering, once again, how his pants stayed up.

I wanted to say something snarky, but instead a question came out of my mouth.

“Do you know where Neville Hall is?” Someone yelled hello, and his eyes briefly left my face to wave hello and call out to someone.

“Sure. Follow me. I’m going there, as well. What class do you have?”

“English.”

“Me, too.”

Jesus, if he and I were in the same class, that would just suck beyond suckage.

He must have seen the horror on my face. I hadn’t really tried to hide it.

“Just messing with you, Red. I have calc. Would being in the same class with me be that bad?”

I didn’t answer as we crossed the road and I saw a building with the words Neville Hall on it. I could have found it if I’d looked, but then I probably would have been late.

He held the door for me and a few people coming in behind me.

“Thank you,” I said.

We paused in the lobby.

“I’m on the second floor,” he said, pointing toward the stairs.

“I’m on the third.”

We walked up two flights and he gave me that little two-fingered wave again.

“See you later, Red.”

“’Bye.”

I joined a few other people and plodded my way up to the third floor.

I hadn’t fulfilled my English requirements yet, so I was stuck taking Creative Writing. When I walked in, there were only about ten other people there. That did not bode well for being able to hide and listen to music. Great.

I found a seat in the back and close to the door and looked around. I felt pretty young; most of the people looked like they were quite a bit older than me.

I’d gotten a decent grade in my English comp class at UNH, but only because I’d been one of the few students who turned in assignments. I liked to read, but writing those insipid papers where you had to analyze what some dude who had died hundreds of years ago had meant by writing about rain or some such crap was pretty much the worst thing ever. Luckily, the more you seemed to bullshit, the better grade you got. Maybe I could do the same in this class.

A few more people trickled in until there were fifteen of us. The professor was the last one there, and he was everything a teacher of English should be. He even had a tweed jacket with those weird elbow patches and horn-rimmed glasses.

He called attendance and when he got to my name he asked me what I wanted to be called. I went with Jos again as he introduced himself as Greg and explained how the class would go. I’d skimmed the syllabus, but hadn’t really paid attention to it. As he explained what we’d be doing, my heart sank. We’d have to write something every week, and during at least one class period a week. And we had to read what we’d written. Out loud. And, if that wasn’t enough, he’d make copies of what we’d written and we’d all have a class discussion.

Welcome to your nightmare, Jos Archer.

Once again, since I was new, I didn’t have to do much, but this was going to be another class in which I was required to participate, even if I didn’t want to. At least half of the class looked like they’d rather be getting a lobotomy than be there, so at least I was in good company.

I suffered my way through and then I was finally done with classes for the day. I scurried away from Neville Hall as fast as I could before I could bump into Dusty again, and checked my phone. There were several missed texts from Renee, asking how classes were going, and one from my mother and another from Darah that was just a smiley face.

I could have gone back to the house, but I wanted to savor this time I had without anyone watching my every move. It wasn’t too cold, so I did a walk around campus, finding the rest of my classes for the next day and watching the other students go about their lives, wondering what it was like to be them.

When my legs started to get numb, despite the walking, I went back to my car. My instructions were to go right home, but I didn’t. I’d been dying to go to Bull Moose in Bangor, so I headed toward the mall. Bull Moose was pretty much the best music store in all of New England. I’d discovered them when I went to UNH and I was over the moon when I realized there was one close to UMaine.

It took some maneuvering and lane-switching to find the place, but I did.

The great thing about Bull Moose was that they had not only CDs, but records and old movies, and all the people who worked there knew what they were talking about. When I walked in, I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. Ah. I loved the comforting rows of cases, all ordered by genre and artist. Yes, most music could be purchased online, but you couldn’t duplicate the experience of going to a store and browsing yourself.

“Can I help you, little lady?” Jesus. H. Christ. I paused with my hand on a Radiohead CD that I didn’t currently own and turned to make sure he wasn’t a hallucination.

“No, thank you. I can pick out my own music.” That was a lie. I’d recently discovered The Black Keys, and I was hoping to find more bands like them, but I was never going to ask Dusty. Not in a million years. “Are you stalking me? Because, seriously, it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Maybe you’re the one who’s stalking me. I was here first. You came into my store.” I finally noticed he had a lanyard around his neck like the other guys who worked here.

“Oh, so this is your store? Do you own it?”

“Nope, but I do work here. And I’ve been going to Yellowfield House longer than you, too. So I was here first.”

“I don’t give a shit,” I said, putting the CD back. Even my music sanctuary had been invaded.

“So you’re into music,” Dusty said, straightening some of the CDs, as if he was pretending to work. “What kind?”

“Taylor Swift,” I said, just to throw him. Granted, I had listened to plenty of her stuff and some of it wasn’t so bad. But he didn’t know that.

“Well, we have a wide range of T Swift’s music for your listening pleasure.” He gestured toward the pop section. “I’m partial to her earlier work, but her newest album is getting great reviews.” I waited to see if he was being sarcastic.

“Can you just let me browse without being harassed? I get it enough at Renee’s, and I don’t need it from everyone else.” Wow, I did not mean to be that honest. What was it with me today? I seemed to be vocalizing everything I was thinking whether I meant to or not.

“Wow, easy, Red.” He put his hands up as if I’d held a gun to his head. “Just trying to be a good employee and help a customer, but if you want to be left alone, you got it.” He turned around and left before I could say anything else. I saw him talking to a few of the other guys and pointing at me. What fresh hell was this?

He came back a few minutes later as I was searching through the alt-rock section.

“Okay, so I’ve told everyone not to approach you unless you approach them first, so the store is yours, Joscelyn.” He waved his arms to indicate everything.

“Thanks.” It sounded like a question.

“Anytime.” One last grin and he was gone, off to the back of the store and through a door marked Employees Only. And I was left alone for the rest of my time in the store.

I found a couple CDs, but didn’t look as close as I wanted because I felt like all eyes were on me, even though every time I looked up, one or more of the employees were giving me looks like I was going to run over and stab them or something. God only knew what he had told them so they’d leave me alone. Then again, I probably didn’t want to know.

* * *

When I got back from my little Bull Moose trip, there were several cars parked in the driveway, so I had to settle for parking in the street.

“Hey, Miss I’m-not-going-to-text-my-sister-back.” Renee’s voice was the first thing I heard when I walked through the door and hung my coat up. Renee hopped up from the couch and came over to glare at me.

“I was busy.”

“Doing what?” She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. I pushed past her and went downstairs to put my stuff away. Of course she followed me.

“Look, Renee, I know you find this hard to believe, but I didn’t do anything bad. I went to class, I had lunch, I went to Bull Moose and I came back here. That’s all. Besides, how can I do anything with you riding my ass at every turn?”

Instead of yelling at me she just tossed her hands in the air and then banged them on her thighs.

“Why are you being like this, Jos? What happened to my little sister who never, ever swore? I don’t feel like I know you anymore.”

“Maybe you didn’t know me before. Maybe that girl was a lie.” She had been a lie. That girl had a metal rod shoved so far up her butt she was choking on it. That girl was so afraid of stepping out of line or making any waves that she never did anything. Never broke curfew. Never got drunk. Never did anything that could be construed as wild, or out of control, or free.

She was so fucking uptight that she barely ever laughed. Or smiled. Or had any fun of any kind. That girl never would have just sat in a dark room and listened to music without it having a purpose. Being that girl was exhausting, but no one knew.

“I just don’t know what to say to you anymore, Jos. You’re my sister and I feel like you’re a complete stranger. What am I supposed to do?” For the first time, I heard the hopelessness in her voice. Renee didn’t get hopeless. She didn’t get weak. She was always tough as nails; she had to be with our crazy parents.

“You don’t have to do anything. Just...give me some space. I can’t breathe.” I sat down on my bed and she came and sat next to me.

“I never thought that I would be this worried about you. You’re the good one. You made the rest of us look like losers. It was hell when our report cards would come out and you’d always have A’s and the rest of us had to compete with that. It sucked, by the way.” She bumped my shoulder with hers.

“I’m sorry?”

“No, I just wish I had been the one who could have set the good example. You know, I’m supposed to be the oldest and all that. I tried, but you were always better.”

Was. Past tense.

She touched my hair. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened last year?”

I shook my head. “I just decided that life was worth living, and I hadn’t been.”

“All of a sudden? Carpe diem?”

Sure.

“Something like that.”

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