Southern Attraction: The College Years

by Tracy Kauffman

  "Just wondering."

  "Why? Did you expect me to stay at home or something?"

  "No. I just was wondering. Look its getting late. Can we talk another time? I'm really tired."

  "Yeah, sure. Can I call you sometime?" Mike asked.

  "Yeah. I guess."

  "You guess. Do you want me to call or not?" Mike teased.

  "Yes, I want you to call sometime." Heather didn't know why she wanted Mike to call her. She just knew she didn't want to lose his friendship. She found herself jealous that he had been talking to Tina. It did matter, but she didn't want him to know that.

  "Okay. I'll call you some time. Get some rest."

  "Have a good night!" Heather leaned over to kiss Mike on the cheek.

  Mike wondered why Heather cared so much about Tina. She was sending him mixed messages. He knew he had feelings for her, but didn't want to get too attached. He knew she had a boyfriend, but suspected that there must be something wrong with their relationship. Why else would she be jealous of his friendship with Tina? He knew he wasn't ready to give up on being with her. Not yet, anyway.

  Thought after thought ran through her mind. Was she sad because of Jake's accident? Was she eager to build a closer relationship with Mike? Was she ever going to figure out what to do about Jake playing football? Was she willing to overlook her fears of him being injured? Heather was exhausted. She was glad the night was finally over. Too much excitement for one night, she thought. She tried to sleep, but images of Jake lying on the ground without movement came popping in her head. Her head started to throb.

  She didn't think she could handle the stress until the morning. She wanted to call Jake so bad, but she knew he needed rest. Thoughts of calling Jake kept coming into her head. Every few seconds, she would grab her cell phone and then lay it back on the bed beside her. I better wait till morning to call him. .... If I can, she thought.

  Somehow the clock's ticking got louder, and Heather could hear every minute, every second the clock ticked. Tick tock, Tick tock. This is going to be a long night. Heather took a deep breath and reached for her earphones. She found some soft music to help calm her nerves. She tried to think about her classes; then, her mind started to wonder. She thought about Mike. He was so handsome, kind, and sweet and had a nice body. Then she began to think about Jake and how he could have been injured. Hour after hour passed until she could no longer open her heavy eyes, and finally, Heather was fast asleep.

  Heather dreamed of being in a small house with a storm coming in the distance. Dark clouds overshadowed the sky. The rain beating down hard upon the roof, sounding like a hammer. The sound of the wind whirling and booming frightened Heather. She ran and hid in the closet to stay safe from the storm until it finally passed over the house, then the dream ended.

  Chapter 7

  Heather woke early in the morning after only a few hours of sleep. She recalled her nightmare, then all of a sudden she remembered what had happened the night before. She quickly got up and got dressed; then rushed down the stairwell and out the front door. The walk that normally took fifteen minutes only took five to run it. Heather cut through the grass and across the field to save time. She knew she must look pretty goofy running with an old t-shirt and jeans; her hair messy and uncombed. She thought it would be easier to run than to drive over to his dorm, considering the 10 miles per hour speed limit around the campus.

  It seemed like decades before Jake answered the door. Guys were walking in the hall staring at her and wondering why she was in their dorm, banging on the door, 8 a.m. on a Sunday.

  "I told you I wanted to sleep in," Jake said irritated that she was there so early.

  "Sorry, but I wanted to check on you. I was worried."

  "I told you last night that I was fine. You need to quit worrying." Jake walked over to his bed and sat down. He patted the bed beside him, motioning for her to sit down.

  "I can't help it. I love you and don't want anything to happen to you. You scared me bad last night," Heather said as she rubbed his arm.

  Jake listened as Heather went on and on about how she was worried about him and how she couldn't rest last night. Jake's eyes were heavy. He wanted to get back to sleep so bad. "Heather, why don't you just stop. Let's go back to sleep. You said you didn't sleep good last night and I'm still exhausted. So let's get some sleep."

  "I don't think I can sleep. Why don't you get some rest. I'm sorry I woke you up," Heather replied. Heather was tired, but she knew she wouldn't be able to go to sleep, especially after having such a terrible nightmare last night."

  "I don't mean to be rude, Babe."

  "I know. We can talk about this later. Get some rest. I love you," Heather said as she walked to the door.

  Jake wondered what Heather meant. What else is there to talk about? He was okay and wasn't injured, so what was the big deal. Then he wondered, I hope she's not going to try to convince me to stop playing football. ....I guess I'll find out later.

  As Heather walked toward her room, she couldn't help thinking about Jake. Why couldn't Jake be more like Mike, she thought. Mike was this great, intelligent guy who seems to care about her. Why can't I be in love with him, instead of Jake.

  She loved Jake so much it hurt. She loved how he was passionate about things. It seemed every time he put his mind to doing something, he did it and always seemed to accomplish his goal. He doesn't like quitting or giving up. He was a go-getter, hard worker. He was nothing like her. This made her love him more. He was always doing things that most wouldn't even try doing. She loved his nature, his kindness toward others. She loved his eagerness to succeed, especially in football, but worried about his safety.

  Then there was Mike. He was a safe choice, but not boring. He seems to have a good head on his shoulders. He had a good plan for his life and great career options ahead of him. A few years ago, Heather would have easily picked him over Jake. He was more like her. He was well kept, well dressed, good-natured and probably came from a prominent family. He wasn't shy to the idea of manicures either.

  Somehow Jake's appearance was more appealing to her. He was the total opposite of her, but desirous. He was unrefined in every way, but manly. He seemed to love things that were out of the box, risky. It was probably why he had such an infatuation for a dangerous career.

  Heather knew in her heart that she couldn't be with a guy who wanted to be a police officer, even if they did have history together. She couldn't handle the stress of it. Staying home, waiting by the phone, wondering if he was safe. She wanted someone that she could depend on at any given time. Someone that worked 9-5 and was home at night. ....Not someone who was never there, or who was always getting injured on the job. ....Or the field.

  Heather knew she had to talk to Jake. She had to know what his plans were and somehow convince him to quit playing football. Football was just too risky. She knew the statistics of guys who were injured playing football. ...Some had broken bones; head injuries, etc... She couldn't bare it if he was injured in that way. She couldn't live with the concept that she would be married to a man that might be paralyzed or unable to walk or talk. She hoped it was a passing phase, but knew it wasn't. He had already voiced that he wanted to play professionally. Oh, how she couldn't stand the thought of it.

  Heather hated the thought of standing in the way of Jake's dreams. She didn't want to. She wanted him to be happy in every way. She wanted to be encouraging and loving to him. She wanted to be supportive of his decisions, but she didn't know if she could. Everything that excited her about him now seemed to scare her the most. Why was she so desirous of a man who liked to live dangerously. Yes, football was a dangerous field. Just last week she heard of a guy who died from a head injury, the day after playing football for the Washington Redskins.

  Heather was usually a calm, tempered woman. She wasn't the type of person who stressed about anything. She never worried or feared anything, until the time the tornado passed through Huckleburg. She remembered how it had destroyed the
town, including her uncle's farm. She had never feared anything so much in her life. She remembered being in her uncle's storm pit when the tornado went overhead. She had never felt that type of terror and doom before in her life. She was afraid for her life and the life of her uncle's.

  Before that day in Huckleburg, Heather hadn't been religious, but she found God that day in the storm pit. She had made her peace with God, asking forgiveness for her past sins. Then after the storm had passed, she thanked him for his protection over her and her uncle.

  That day in Huckleburg had changed her life. She wasn't the same spoiled, immature girl that she once was. Somehow tragedy had strengthened her, matured her, and taught her how to love. To truly love a person and have compassion for them. She had learned to give back to the community by donating her time and showing charity to her friends and the town. So Heather didn't want to lose herself by giving in to fear. She decided she would find a way to give to this new community, to this school. Not only to help the school but herself as well.

  On her way to her room, she ran into Ned Harris, her English professor. He was talking with one of the students she didn't recognize. After waiting for the student to leave, she inquired with Mr. Harris where the office of Community Affairs was.

  "It's in the Rose Administration Building across from Harris Hall," he instructed.

  "Thank you," she replied as she headed there. She knew if she didn't sign up with them today, she would procrastinate and never get around to it.

  The lobby of the Rose Building was beautifully decorated with a rustic feel of neutral tones and nature-inspired decor. Tan colored high wingback chairs lined the walls. Pamphlets covered the console table that faced the entryway. As Heather surveyed the leaflets, one caught her attention. It was for the CSL, the Center for Service and Leadership. Heather wanted to serve and be not only a volunteer but a leader in her community, encouraging others, and striving to improve people's lives. She opened the brochure and began to read how the CSL aimed to enhance the student experience through active and diverse engagement opportunities in the community. This sounds like what I've been looking for, she thought.

  "May I be of assistance?" A young lady approached her. She appeared to be of Heather's age, nicely dressed with a grey suit.

  "Yes, I would like to sign up for this. I'm a freshman and interested in giving back to the community."

  "That's great. Have you taken time to look over other options as well?" The volunteer questioned.

  "Yes, and this seems to be a great fit for me." Heather wondered why the girl didn't just give her an application. It felt as if she was trying to question her — question whether she wanted to volunteer. Perhaps judging her.

  Heather knew how it was to prejudge someone. She had done so on many occasions before. She remembered how she used to look at a person's appearance, hair color, size, clothes, and then sizing them up. She recollected judging the town of Huckleburg, looking at the size of the school, calling the guys rednecks, and often labeling the person before getting to know them. People had judged her before, by her dress, appearance… She recalled how her classmates in Huckleburg had examined her, treating her like an outsider, since she was from New York. She didn't like to be judged. She wanted to be able to be herself and still fit in.

  "If you're sure, here is the application to fill out. Please list any other charity work that you have volunteered for in the past. Then you can leave it with me. The Coordinator isn't in today, but I'll make sure she gets it tomorrow morning."

  "What do you mean if I'm sure?" Heather asked.

  "You just don't look like someone who would do volunteer work."

  "Well, I am very interested. Thanks," Heather replied as she walked toward one of the seats by the wall. Heather was irritated by the volunteer's comments but didn't want to do anything that could hurt her chances, so she held her tongue. She knew she hadn't done much volunteer work before, other than in Huckleburg. That's not really volunteering for a program or organization, she thought. It was just helping out her community. She decided to list it anyway because she felt that she had really helped the town and her neighbors.

  She reminisced about the devastation that the storm had left from its path of destruction in Huckleburg. Homes were destroyed, people injured, and some even died. Her uncle Mick had lost his farm, his home. Jake had been injured and was in a coma for days. The more she remembered, the more it made her want to help. She knew what losing everything felt like. She never wanted to relive that time again, but with her experience, she could help someone else.

  Heather quickly filled out the application and turned it in. As she exited the building, Heather began to cry. Tears flowed like a stream from her eyes. She knew she would never fully be over the trauma that she had endured on that day. She had never really coped or recovered from the trauma of going through the tornado. Maybe it was time to deal with her emotions. She had kept them bottled up inside, hidden away, hoping never to experience the hurt, the angst she felt that day. Maybe it was time to talk to someone, a counselor that could help her. Maybe after dealing with her own insecurities, she could really talk to Jake about her fears, and they could work through their differences.

  Chapter 8

  Heather arrived at Dr. Haney's clinic right on time. She quickly signed in and took a seat in the waiting room. She surveyed the room looking for anyone that resembled her, hoping to find someone that didn't look crazy. Heather always thought of people who went to Psychologist as crazy people, not normal people. But now she was here, sitting in the office waiting to see the therapist.

  What is wrong with me? What am I doing here? She thought. Heather started to get up and walk right back out the exit door when her name was called.

  "Yes, I'm Heather Brandon."

  "Please fill out these forms. The doctor will see you shortly," the receptionist said.

  Heather walked back to her seat, scanning the room for anyone watching her. Everyone seemed to be busy in their own little world to notice her. Perhaps they were just as embarrassed as she was. As she sat down, the leather upholstery guest chair made a rubbing sound that made the gentlemen next to her smile. Thoughts ran across her mind, of a farting sound.

  Hope he doesn't think I just let one. How embarrassing. It wasn't as if she wasn't already humiliated enough, now she felt like hiding under the seat. She tried to focus on filling out the paperwork that she had been handed. Soon her name was called.

  "Heather Brandon."

  Quickly she gathered her bag and hurried toward the lady with the white uniform.

  "I'm Heather," she replied as she handed the forms to the lady holding out her hand.

  "Follow me." The nurse led her down the hall toward an office.

  The office was furnished with a brown leather couch and swivel chair. An unusual smell filled the room.

  "Take a seat, Ms. Brandon," the doctor instructed as he pointed toward the couch.

  "I'm Dr. Haney. What brings you by today?" He asked as he looked at the questionnaire.

  “I’m really not sure. I’ve been emotional lately. I started crying out of the blue on Sunday.”

  “Can you tell me what triggered it?” The doctor asked.

  “I don’t know. I guess I remembered what happened to me last year.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  Heather wondered why the doctor kept asking these short questions. Was he not just going to tell her what the matter was. After all, she did write everything on the questionnaire. She started to get agitated with the doctor’s inquisition.

  “I filled out your questionnaire. Aren’t you going to at least read it?” She replied sarcastically.

  “I read it, but I need to hear it from you. I want you to express yourself freely. Everything you tell me is strictly confidential,” the therapist replied in a calm tone.

  “I remembered what happened last year at my uncle’s farm. A tornado blew in and destroyed the town, affecting people’s lives.”

  �
��Were you injured? Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I wasn’t injured, but my uncle lost his farm. Friends of mine were injured. A friend lost her dad,” Heather said as tears filled her eyes.

  “How does that make you feel?” The doctor inquired.

  “What do you mean? I was heartbroken for her. I know what it felt like to lose a dad.”

  “Tell me how you lost your dad?”

  “It's been uh.....” Heather couldn’t seem to form the words.

  “Take your time and tell me when you are ready.”

  “Its been about two years now. My mom and dad were killed in a car wreck.”

  “How old were you when this happened?” Dr. Haney inquired.

  “Seventeen.”

  Heather didn’t come to the therapist to talk about her mom and dad’s tragedy. She came to talk about the trauma of the tornado. Or maybe her fears ran much deeper than she had realized. She realized that she had never fully dealt with her parents passing. She had lost the greatest parent anyone could ever wish for in any lifetime. Parents that adored her, gave her everything that she ever wanted. Parents, she could talk to and rely on at any given time. It hurt to think about how quickly they were taken from her. She never grieved their death. She was quickly uprooted to Alabama to live with an uncle she barely knew.

  “That must have been devastating to go through. Can you talk about what happened?”

  Heather didn’t want to relive her parent's death, but she wanted to trust the process. Maybe she needed to talk about it. Perhaps she was suppressing her feelings all this time. Maybe it was time to allow herself to heal of her pain.

  “My parents were driving, and a drunk driver hit their car. I heard the news at school my senior year. Then I uh... I had to move in with my uncle.”

  “How close were you with your uncle?” The doctor asked.

  “Not close. I didn’t know him that well.”

  “That must have been hard for you.”

  “Yes, but I adjusted.”