A girl raised her hand. “What about our boyfriends?” she asked. “Are they still allowed in the lounge?”
Sandy sighed. “Yes, but we are moving curfew to twelve and I don’t want to hear any complaints about it,” she added loudly, over the protests that were beginning to rise up. “All gentlemen must be out of the dorm by midnight, is that clear?” She looked around at us all. “So far we’ve avoided having any attacks in our dorm, and I want to keep it that way. The safety of you girls is my priority, so if you see anything or anyone suspicious hanging around, you tell me, one of the RAs, or campus security, right away.”
Mona, my other suitemate, raised her hand. “You know the side door sticks, right?” she said. “It doesn’t close right away, and sometimes the latch doesn’t catch.”
Sandy frowned. “No, I didn’t. Stacy, write that down and we’ll get maintenance over to fix it first thing in the morning. We’ll also be installing alarms in all the rooms,” she told us. “We’ll have another meeting next month to go over how to arm them. In the meantime, everyone be safe, stay together, and look out for each other. Oh, and your housing requests for next semester are due next month. You’re dismissed.”
Jill and I exchanged a serious look as the meeting broke up. “Scary, huh?” she murmured. “I guess this means you don’t want to move down to the first floor now.”
I frowned. “Huh?”
“Oh—didn’t I tell you? I found out one of my suitemates is transferring to Pitt next semester. I talked to my other suitemate—her name is Kim—and she’s willing to let you move in.”
“Really?” My face lit up. “That would be great!” It was no secret I hadn’t been getting along with Nicki. “Where is she? I’d like to meet her.”
Jill scanned the room. “Um, it looks like she might have headed back already. She’s studious, too, but not sanctimoniously so. I’m pretty sure you’ll like her. In fact, let’s grab a form now, before we forget.”
The prospect of getting a new roommate and sharing a suite with Jill was so cheering that it was hard to feel as properly solemn and serious as we were supposed to. Between planning my fall semester, preparing for the summer, and trying to decide what to do for Spring Break, I had a lot on my mind. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to push the worry all the way out; and it didn’t stop me from double checking the lock on our dorm room door before I went to bed.
I finally called Davin back at the end of the week, when things had started to settle down. The phone rang and rang as usual, and just when I was expecting his voice mail to come on, instead I heard, “Hello?”
I was startled into stammering, “Uh, hi, Davin?” “Yeah, this is Davin.”
“Oh, hey, I was expecting to get your voice mail. This is Anna.”
“Oh! Hey! How’s it going, Anna?” He sounded happy.
“Good, good. I, uh, I wanted you to know I got your card…”
“Oh, great.”
“Yeah. Thanks. That was really sweet of you. Um…”
“Glad you liked it.”
I paused, trying to figure out how to say what I had to say next. “So…what are you doing for Spring Break?”
“Oh, um…I don’t know. Kevin’s talking about taking The Beast to New York or something. Or maybe Seven Springs for skiing, you know.”
I was both relieved and disappointed. “That sounds cool.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t decided if I’m going yet. What are you doing?”
The juxtaposition of those two sentences confused me. Did it really matter to him what I was doing? “Um…I haven’t really decided yet either…but I think I’m going to go home with Jill.”
“Oh. Who’s Jill?”
“Jill Hanschu. She’s a semester ahead of us. She lives in my dorm. Anyway—”
“That redhead I’ve seen you with the last couple times in the cafeteria?”
“Yeah, that’s her. She’s invited me to her place. She lives near here,” I added unnecessarily.
“That’s nice of her.”
“Yeah, she’s become a good friend.”
I heard a sigh over the line. “I’m trying, Anna, I’m just really busy—”
“Whoa, Davin, calm down. I wasn’t trying to say that you’re not a good friend. I was just talking about Jill.” I frowned at his defensiveness.
“Oh.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled. “You know, I kind of miss our chats, too,” I said into the silence.
“Yeah. Well maybe sometime…I don’t know, after finals or something, we can hang out again.”
“That would be nice,” I said. There was another pause. I decided if he didn’t feel like talking, then for once, I would be the one to end the conversation. “Well, thanks again for the card, Davin.”
“You’re welcome. Really.”
“I guess I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Well, have fun skiing, if I don’t see you before then.”
“Yeah, you have fun, too.”
“I will. Okay, bye.”
“Bye.”
I hung up with a heavy heart. I didn’t want to think about how Davin always managed to get my emotions twisted up, so I grabbed my keys and ID card and went for a jog.
In my head, I had these daydreams that somehow neither Davin nor I would end up going anywhere for the break, and we would somehow magically reconnect. These little fantasies usually ended with him telling me how much my friendship had meant to him, just before asking me on a date. But it didn’t work out that way. Instead he and some other guys piled into Kevin’s Beast and headed to Seven Springs, and I went with Jill as planned—though a little sulkily at first. Jill was nice enough to pretend not to notice and let me sort myself out on the way to her house. We ended up having a pretty good week, despite the fact that Davin kept popping into my head about every ten minutes.
Jill’s family lived nearby in the North Hills of Pittsburgh, in a nice community called Wexford. It wasn’t an exciting, action-packed week, but that was okay. We both enjoyed just relaxing, sleeping in, and catching up on movies and TV. In fact, the quiet rhythm had become so nice that I was dreading going back to school a little. Jill was ready; as much as she loved her family she couldn’t wait to get back to her own way of doing things.
It probably also helped that Jill’s mom was more than a little freaked by all the news of the attacks; she about wore Jill out with making her promise to be extra super careful at all times. Mrs. Hanschu even went out and bought us each a small canister of pepper spray: “Carry it with you at all times,” she insisted, pushing it into our hands.
While back at Dubsy, school officials were often just as adamant about safety, at least we were kept busy enough to take our minds off it once in a while. The last few weeks flew by; it was hard to believe my first year was already coming to an end. End-of-semester papers and assignments seemed to multiply and it was common to see groups of students walking together to and from the library. It was frazzling enough just to try to get all the assignments done; adding in the anxiety of another possible attack just put everyone on edge. When finals came, I couldn’t wait for it all to be over so I could go back to getting at least five or six hours of sleep—and I knew I wasn’t the only one.
I ran into Davin just outside the cafeteria one afternoon. He was sitting in the bright sunshine with a textbook in his lap, but his eyes were closed.
I walked over. “Are you dreaming your way to a better understanding of science?”
His eyes flew open and he stared up at me. “Hey,” he said, rubbing and blinking his eyes. “How are you, Anna?”
“I’m well,” I told him. “On my way to my Spanish final.”
“Ah. Español.”
“Sí.” I smiled. “You look tired.”
“I am,” he sighed. “I’m so tired nothing is sinking in, and I have my Changing Universe exam at two. But I can’t stay awake to study.”
“I don’t have time for sleep,” Davin mumbled.
“I hear ya.”
He looked up at me again, squinting in the noon sun. “So how was your Spring Break?”
“Good. Relaxing. How was yours?”
“Okay. I’m not much of a skier. But we had fun. I tried snowboarding for the first time.”
“Oh? How was that?”
He grinned at me. “Awesome. I kinda got the hang of it, you know, after I fell down about a hundred times. It helped that my brother and I used to ride our sleds as if they were surfboards.”
I snorted. There was a pause and I glanced in the direction I was heading, ready to say hasta.
“So…what are you doing this summer?”
My face lit up. “I’m going home. To Brazil. My parents were able to find some cheap tickets.”
“I thought they were living in Virginia, now.”
“No, that was when I was in high school. They moved back around the same time I started here.”
“Oh, I see. So, first time home from college, then, huh? You must be excited.” He smiled wistfully as I nodded. “That’s great, Anna. I hope you have a great time.”
I smiled. “It will be good to see them again. What are you doing?”
He hesitated. “I’ll be around here for most of the summer. I might go home for a little bit, but I got a job at the Giant Eagle down the road.”
“Oh. Well, that should be good.” I don’t know why I said that, except that it sounded like what I should say.
He smiled at me wryly. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll have a riveting summer working at the grocery store.” He yawned widely.
It was contagious. I covered my mouth and sighed. “I take it you were up late studying, too?”
“Something like that.” Subconsciously, he rubbed a fresh bruise on his jaw.
I frowned, knowing better than to ask about it, but still wondering who had punched him. Honestly. How did he get beat up so much? Who would want to hurt him, and why? It made me uneasy even to speculate. He had dark circles under his eyes, too, and unconsciously I rubbed my own eyes, which were gritty with lack of sleep. “At least you didn’t get woken up by the cheap, faulty alarm system they put in your dorm,” I said darkly, still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.
He frowned. “What happened?”
I yawned again and shook my head. “After those two attacks, all the girls’ dorms put in alarm systems in all the rooms. They’re supposed to be a deterrent, a preventative measure, et cetera, and I get that. But right now, they’re just a nuisance. Sometimes the batteries die, and they go off in the middle of the night. Or some girl stumbles in from partying and her roommate forgot to turn it off. All I know is, someone on my floor had had their alarm go off every night this week, and none of it was an attack. But all of us suffered a lack of sleep.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry they haven’t been working right,” he said slowly, “but I guess it’s better to be safe, right? I mean, at least they’re doing something about it. Maybe they’ll get all the bugs worked out over the summer.” He glanced across the lawn for a moment before adding, “Hey, that reminds me. I wanted to ask for your address.”
Blame the lack of sleep. “My address?” I echoed stupidly.
“Yeah. You know. Of where you will be in Brazil, this summer. You know. For mail? Little white envelopes with stamps…” He squinted up at me in the sunlight, grinning.
“Oh! Right. Um,” I fumbled in my bag for a scrap of paper and my pencil.
He took the scrawled address and tucked it into a pocket of his backpack. “You don’t mind, do you?” he asked suddenly. “If I write you?”
“No, that would be fine,” I said. “That’d be cool.” I didn’t know whether to act nonchalant or pleased; I was afraid of over- or under-reacting. Given his track record, I didn’t want to expect too much, but then again, there was something sweet about him at least asking and intending to write. “It, uh, it would be great to hear from you.”
“Okay. Well, thanks.” He patted the pocket he’d tucked the slip of paper into, and then there was an awkward pause.
“You’re welcome,” I said abruptly. “Thank you. Good luck with science.”
“Yeah. Good luck with Spanish,” he called after me.
“If I don’t see you…have a good summer,” I said.
“You, too,” he said. “Stay safe.”
I glanced back at him one more time before booking it to my final. I got there just as Señora Prepelkastarted handing out the tests.
Chapter Eleven
“Friendship is unnecessary,
like philosophy, like art...
It has no survival value;
rather it is one of those things
that give value to survival.”
—C. S. Lewis
The blast of tropical heat that greeted me when I stepped off the plane felt like I’d stepped into a warm, sweaty, hug. I didn’t think I’d ever miss the climate, but after the freezing and overcast winter, I was glad to be back in a place where the sun shone every day. The lush greenness was not unlike some parts of western Pennsylvania, but Brazil’s forests had a richer, more tropical feel. I was sweating before I even reached the car, but it felt inexplicably good. Or at least, it felt familiar, and that was what felt good.
My family greeted me with hugs and kisses and even a few tears. My brother, Andrew—Andy—even looked happy to see me, and for once didn’t call me Bobeña…at least, not right away. It was his special nickname for me—it means something like ‘little silly girl.’ He looked like he had grown a couple of inches, but what was worse, he was growing a mustache. I groaned. “Andy? What’s this?” I pointed to his lip.
He grinned at me, his teeth showing white next to his dark tan skin. “You’re the first girl that’s complained about it,” he teased.
“Not true,” my mother contradicted. “I tell him every day that he needs to shave it.”
“And I tell him every day to leave it,” my father jumped in. My mother shook her head at him smilingly as he took my suitcase and motioned to Andy to grab my carry-on bag. We all climbed in the beat up minivan that my dad had gotten for a steal during our years in Virginia.
The long flight had left me tired and sort of dry feeling. I was quiet most of the ride, just enjoying the bustle of the city and the bright, almost brazen colors of the neon signs. It was the heart of São Paulo. The summer heat rippled from the sun to the earth and back up again. Everything was shiny and glimmering and it was wonderful. I was home.
And then it hit me. I was home. Thousands of miles away from my new friends and my new routine and way of life. I hadn’t expected to miss school so soon. I had thought that maybe, by the end of the summer, I’d feel ready to go back. But I had not thought that only two weeks later I’d be school-sick.
I didn’t want my family to notice; they were so happy to have me back. And I was happy to be there. Mostly. But it was strange how a place could feel like home, yet not feel like home at the same time. I’d been away from them for a year, and longer from Brazil. Things had changed. I had changed. Even coming back from furlough never felt this way. It was good to be surrounded by my family and people who knew me, the Real me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t really fit there anymore. Life had gone on without me. I’d missed out on important things in our part of the city, and in our church—births, weddings, deaths.
One afternoon as I was trying to read, I overheard some of our neighbors talking to my mother—in Portuguese, of course. I was disappointed to find that I’d become rusty and couldn’t recognize all the words. For some reason—on top of everything else I was irritated about—it made me angry with myself. I grabbed my water bottle, lip balm, and wallet, tossed them into my backpack, and snuck out the back, letting the door close quietly behind me. I had to g
o for a run.
I hopped on the nearest metro and headed into the city to Ibirapuera Park, São Paulo’s equivalent of Central Park. It’s a big, busy place, home to several museums and monuments; yet there was something calming about it—an island of green tranquility in an ocean of concrete chaos. I set off at a jog but quickly came to the conclusion that I wasn’t getting enough exercise in college, even with the required Phys. Ed. classes and my occasional jogs; instead I slowed to a walk. Above the trees, skyscrapers still loomed as far out as I could see. Even still, just being there, sheltered a bit from the city, I began to feel more peaceful.
I found it strange that a park in São Paulo could remind me of Pittsburgh—even stranger still, that I was glad of the reminder. It helped me begin to feel like I could connect the different parts of my life. The familiar sound of the not-too-distant traffic was like a familiar lullaby; the steady stream of bikers, joggers, walkers, and street performers made up a rhythm not unlike the beating of my heart or the inhale/exhale of my lungs. I wasn’t so out of place. Brazil was in my blood, forever. It would always be a part of me and who I was. I was raised there, I had played games in the very park I stood in, and I had learned about life there. Maybe I was learning more about life, about different kinds of things in college, but I would never be rid of my past, my upbringing. And I wouldn’t want to be. But I still couldn’t see how it would fit with my future.
I rounded the loop heading toward the Museum of Modern Art, not at all planning to stop until I saw their display. For a moment I just stood there, catching my breath. Banners and posters proclaimed a special exhibit for the summer: comic books. Featuring the artwork of Brazilian comic book illustrator Roger Cruz, familiar faces of some of my favorite heroes peered out at me through the glass.
And there it was: another important piece of my past, something that had shaped me into the woman I was becoming. Superheroes. I wanted to go in, but museum visits aren’t cheap, and I wasn’t working that summer (unless you counted all the unpaid childcare I did for my family’s church). So I just lingered a moment, outside looking in, wondering again why comic book heroes were such a constant source of fascination for me. Despite the unrealistic portrayal of women’s bodies (sometimes covered apparently in nothing but dental floss), I felt a kinship with the stories. As if, as fictional as they were, they could tell me something about my own story.
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