Asylum

by Kristen Selleck

  “Oh, I just-”

  “I’m kidding, Chloe. The party was a total fail. Turns out that Mike has a girlfriend, who’s “really super”, and that girl Lane used to date that went to Tech? Still not over her. As for Jeff and Mark, all they did was talk about hockey with each other all night. I assume they’re gay.”

  Chloe chuckled and blew on her coffee. The bus rounded the corner and chugged to a stop in front of them.

  “So what about Seth?” Sam asked.

  Chloe shrugged and readjusted her backpack.

  “Oh come on, what happened?” Sam prodded. The girls climbed the bus steps and found seats near the front.

  “He kissed me.” Chloe admitted.

  “Oh-la-la! And then what happened?”

  “And then I smashed my head into a door and almost knocked myself unconscious.”

  Sam choked on her coffee, coughed and spluttered.

  “Oh my God, I think hot coffee just came out of my nose,” she laughed. “You did what???”

  “He kissed me, and I wasn’t expecting it or something, and I freaked out and jerked my head away and there was a door behind me and then…‘Bang‘,” Chloe recapped.

  Sam laughed even louder.

  “Bang!” she repeated. “Well, that was smooth.”

  “Smooth, yeah. He probably thinks I’m a freak.”

  “You are a freak,” Sam giggled. Chloe allowed herself a smile. Somehow it didn’t seem as bad when she was telling it to Sam. It seemed, well…funny. It would be awful as soon as she had to see Seth again, she was sure, but she wouldn’t think about it just then.

  * * *

  Sam and Chloe found seats toward the back of the lecture hall. The floor was tiered into descending levels to give every student a clear view of the front, where an empty desk sat in front of a wall covered in sliding chalkboards. Dr. Willard was late. Around them, the room hummed with whispered conversation. Chloe pulled out a notebook and pencil. Sam slouched in her seat and closed her eyes.

  The door behind them slammed shut, causing Chloe to jump in her chair and Sam to open one eye warily. Dr. Willard rushed by them and threw a black leather satchel onto the bench at the front.

  “Psychology,” he announced, “derived from the greek word psyche, meaning ‘soul’ or ‘mind’, translates as the study of the mind.”

  Chloe gasped as she looked at him and Sam chuckled evilly. Dr. Willard was short with slicked-down, black hair. He probably used a gallon of gel to keep it plastered to his skull. His hair helmet may have caused a few of the snickers, but what really did them in was his moustache. It was also black, long and curled up at the ends with moustache wax.

  “He looks like a villain from a silent movie or something,” whispered Sam. Chloe bit her lip to keep from giggling.

  “Hey there fellow,” Sam said in her best male vaudeville voice, “Do you know where a chap might buy a soda pop for a nickel?”

  Chloe snorted and tried to hold her breath.

  “Hey Chloe…Chloe, do you think he was late for class because he rode here on one of those old time bicycles with the big wheel in the front?” Sam asked.

  Chloe buried her face in her hands and tried to muffle the sound of her laughter in her palms.

  Down in the front, Dr. Willard paused in his lecture to glare in their direction. Sam gave him her best innocent smile as Chloe pretended to be absorbed in taking notes.

  “Course objectives,” Dr. Willard continued, sliding one of the chalkboards up to reveal a long, wordy list.

  Chloe began copying the list diligently. Sam closed her eyes.

  * * *

  Chloe threw her bag on her desk and collapsed on the bed. It had been a long morning. Mondays were going to be her worst days. She had psychology with Sam, followed by a statistics class, and civics all before one in the afternoon. Luckily her last class, a required freshman writing course, wasn’t until four.

  Chloe glanced at Sam’s schedule, taped over the desk, and discovered that she was at physics lab. The cafeteria had closed for lunch and wouldn’t reopen until four for dinner service. She would have to remember to grab something between statistics and civics next Monday. Her stomach rumbled angrily.

  A knock at the door kept her from dozing off. It was probably someone looking for Sam. Chloe had noticed the night before how easily Sam made friends. She already seemed to know everyone in their hall, and laughed and talked to them with an easy familiarity that made Chloe just a little bit jealous.

  Chloe hauled herself off the bed and cracked the door.

  Seth stood in the hallway swinging a white plastic sack. He smiled and held it up for her to inspect.

  “You have lunch yet?” he asked. Chloe shook her head.

  “Can I come in?”

  Chloe opened the door wider. Seth walked past her and set the bag on her desk. He pulled out two take-out cartons, and some plastic cutlery.

  “How’s the head?” he asked pulling up the chair from Sam’s desk to hers. Chloe flinched at the memory.

  “Fine,” she mumbled.

  Seth opened the carton and stepped back with a flourish and a bow.

  “Pasties, the best the U.P. has to offer,” he explained.

  They were half-circle blobs of dough, crimped around one side and leaking a brown gravy through a slit on the top.

  “I thought you said the best pasties were from Marquette,” Chloe remembered.

  “They are. I drove there after class this morning. I had some things I forgot at home. Being that it’s your first pastie and all, I thought you might want to start with the gold standard.” Seth drew back her chair and reached for her hand, over-acting the part of a gentleman.

  “What’s in it?” Chloe asked warily.

  “Meat, taters, onions, and rutabaga. No rufies, I promise.”

  Chloe stabbed at it with her fork as Seth dug heartily into his.

  “Last night,” Chloe began, she didn’t know what to say. Seth chewed and swallowed.

  “Look, don‘t worry about it. I’ll warn you next time…deal?”

  “Alright,” she agreed. She speared some gravy-soaked crust and a potato.

  “S’not bad,” she admitted, with her mouth full. Seth nodded in agreement.

  He had said next time, as in maybe he would try it again. She would be ready next time. She would definitely close her eyes. Maybe she could ask Sam what she was supposed to do with her hands. Then again, Sam’s idea of what to do with her hands…

  “You doing anything Saturday?” Seth asked.

  “I don’t think so. I have to ask Sam though.”

  “If you want to take a drive, I was thinking of heading out to Pictured Rocks. It’s not far. I think you’ll like it.”

  “Okay,” Chloe blushed and took another bite of pastie. She glanced at Seth just as he looked at her. They both smiled sheepishly and looked away.

  Seth scooped up the last bite and shoved the container into the trash.

  “How was psychology this morning?” he asked, still chewing.

  “You could have warned me about the moustache.”

  “I told you he was a character,” Seth said while twirling an imaginary moustache, “I bet he gave you homework already.”

  “Yeah, he asked us to write something on why we were taking the class.”

  Seth nodded and watched as Chloe finished her pastie.

  “You don’t talk much,” he observed.

  “No,” Chloe agreed.

  “Not to me or not to anyone in general?”

  Chloe shrugged by way of answer.

  “Strong silent type?” he teased.

  “Nope. I just don’t have anything interesting to say I guess.”

  “I doubt that,” he said, staring at her. Chloe felt a shiver race down her backbone. Did he know? Did it show somehow that she was different, that there was something wrong with her?

  “Alright, I’m off. Got class in twenty. Can I give you a ride somewhere?” he offered.

  “No, I�
�ve got a break until four.”

  “Okay, see you later?”

  “Sure.”

  Seth made a show of slowly and awkwardly reaching out to pat her on the back. Chloe’s face colored as she realized he was teasing her again.

  “Okay then,” he smiled.

  “Thanks for the pastie,” she said.

  “Anytime kiddo.”

  Seth left, shutting the door quietly behind him. Chloe had barely let out a breath of relief when Sam burst through the door and tossed her bag on her bed.

  “I hate physics!” she announced.

  “And good day to you as well,” smiled Chloe.

  “I’m glad you’re back though,” Sam continued as though she hadn’t heard, “Jen got her brother to buy two bottles of vodka, and we are cordially invited for a meet and greet in hers and Melanie’s room at five.”

  “I don’t know,” Chloe mumbled, “I’ve got class at four and we’ve got that paper due tomorrow for Willard. I wanted to start on that when I got back.”

  “Here, you can copy mine.”

  Sam snatched a paper off her desk and dangled it in front of Chloe. The assignment had been to write an explanation of why they had chosen to study psychology. Sam’s reply consisted of one short sentence.

  “Psych 103 is a required class in the pre-med curriculum,” read Chloe, “Nice Sam.

  “Of course you’d have to change the word ‘pre-med’ to ‘psychology’, but I think you can handle that,” grinned Sam.

  “Oh be serious,” Chloe chided, “the guy spent an hour and ten minutes talking about the glorious science of the mind and so on. I think he’s expecting a little more eloquence than this.”

  “Well then he should have set a word minimum or something. I can’t help it if he doesn’t know better than to leave loopholes.”

  “Sam-” Chloe warned.

  “Chloe,” Sam mimicked, in a fussy, high-pitched tone.

  “Come on Sam, you’re pre-med. You’re not going to be able to get into med school without really good grades and that’s going to take a little more effort than this.”

  “Med school? Pleeeeease! There’s not a whole hell of a lot of people going to med school from BHC. There’s basically two reasons why kids end up here. One, you partied way too hard in high school and don’t have the grades to get in anywhere else, or two, your folks are flat-busted and you don’t have the money to go somewhere better. The only degree I’m looking to get is my M-R-S degree,” Sam laughed.

  “What’s an M-R-S degree?” Chloe wondered.

  “Holy shit, you are an innocent! A missus degree, Clo. My plan is to party my ass off for a year or two and then find a nice guy who will get me so far away from the U.P. that I’ll be able to forget I ever lived here. Then I’ll stay home with the kids while he goes out and makes enough money for me to take awesome vacations and liposuction all the baby weight off. It’s simple,” Sam shrugged.

  “Wow Sam, I think you just set the feminist movement back a hundred years,” Chloe said, shaking her head.

  “Feminism? Don’t make me laugh. You want to grow your armpit hair out and march around carrying a sign that says “womyn…with a ‘y’” be my guest,” Sam rolled her eyes.

  “No, that’s not what it’s about. Let me you--”

  “Let me tell you about feminism. My mom is a real feminist. First woman in the whole family to get any kind of education. She’s a nurse’s aide at the hospital. She works ten hour shifts cleaning bed pans and taking the blame for nurses…her sisters that like to lord it over her because they have a little more education. Oh yeah, women are catty, they’ll stab each other in the back over anything, they don’t support each other. You think that’s how I want to end up? Working myself to death for less money than they pay a man to do the same job? No thanks. We screwed ourselves. Now we have to earn the bread and still be mom of the freaking year or other women will tear us apart. I’m not falling into that trap.” Sam snatched a chemistry book off her desk and shoved it angrily into her bag.

  “That’s not even the point, Sam!” Chloe insisted, “It’s a lot bigger then feminism, or lots of money. It’s-It’s about what you do with your life. It’s about…well, it’s about this world, and your place in it, and…and taking responsibility and trying to do something instead of-of looking the other way and-”

  “Alright, Alright! Whatever!” Sam waved her hand in dismissal. She shouldered her backpack and headed for the door. “Just try and save the world by five, so we can do some shots, okay?” She called over her shoulder. It seemed to Chloe that she shut the door a little harder than normal.

  For a moment, Chloe sat stunned. Cynicism and indifference were cool. She remembered that from high school. It was so important that Sam like her, that she fit in. Why couldn’t she remember to keep her mouth shut? Nobody liked people who stood on soap boxes and preached at them. Fanatics didn’t have friends, they had therapists.

  Fanatic? You can barely make the words come out of your mouth. You stutter and fumble along. You don’t sound like a fanatic… you sound immature…ridiculous. She wishes you weren’t her roommate. She’s probably already made fun of you to those other girls. Jen and Melanie? She’s displaying you so they can all laugh at you behind your back.

  “Stop it!” Chloe said out loud, and immediately regretted it. The voice was gone, but it left a grim sense of satisfaction behind. Another thing she wasn’t supposed to do, she reminded herself, was answer it.

  Chloe rubbed her hands together nervously, and then, seeking her old habit of occupying her mind, fired up Sam’s PC and began her psychology assignment. Writing was so much easier than speaking. Chloe could take the time to think about her words, to order them, make them flow seamlessly from point to point. Above all, she could hit the backspace when they came out awkwardly.

  Twenty minutes later, Chloe clicked the print icon with a sense of accomplishment. She looked over her paper one last time and then slid it into her psych folder. As she reached for her backpack, she noticed Sam’s paper lying on the floor. She picked it up carefully and read the sentence again. She laid the sheet down on Sam’s desk and stared at it, thinking. Then she opened a new window and began typing a second paper. Before it was time for her last class of the day, two completed papers were stashed carefully in her backpack.

  * * *

  “Here’s your lemon, Chloe,” said Sam, grinning wickedly as she handed her a sour, dripping slice, “now here’s what you do. Lick your hand-” Sam demonstrated by licking the back of her hand. “Now take your sugar and-” Sam ripped open a sugar packet, and sprinkled it liberally over the back of her newly-moistened hand. “Now… drink the shot, and real fast, bite the lemon and lick the sugar. That’s a lemon drop.”

  Jen and Melanie’s room was almost identical to Chloe and Sam’s. Two plain beds, two student desks, and a shared dresser were arranged around the walls, leaving the center of the room open. Jen had brought a purple, oriental-patterned rug from home and ten girls, sprawled in various positions, formed a rough sort of circle upon it. Sam had opted for one of the beds. She sat raised above the group of girls like a kindergarten teacher about to commence story time.

  Chloe licked her hand as she had watched Sam do and tore open her sugar packet along with the others.

  “Okay. Everybody ready? Cheers!” sang out Sam, and threw her shot back with a forceful flick of the wrist.

  Chloe gagged as the liquor burned the back of her throat. She could feel the vodka warm a path all the way to her stomach. Eyes watering, she bit her lemon and licked the sugar from her hand. Happily, she was not the only freshman having her first taste of vodka. A few of the other girls had taken only a sip and were grimacing or complaining that it was too strong.

  “We should play a drinking game!” suggested Jen.

  “I know one, it’s called ‘I never’” suggested Melanie.

  “No way, I always lose at that,” complained Sam. A few of the girls giggled. Chloe smiled as though she unders
tood the joke.

  “You should get some more chairs,” complained a girl with brown hair, as she tried to find a more comfortable position on the floor.

  “Actually, Melanie’s boyfriend is, like, a builder or something, and he’s going to build us loft beds. Then we’re going to put a futon on that wall,” Jen indicated the bed where Sam had stretched out, “and maybe my dad’s old lazy boy too. So our room can be, like, the gathering place for the floor.”

  Sam shot Chloe a meaningful look, and raised her eyebrow.

  “How much do you think he would charge to build one for us?” Sam asked.

  “Oh I’m sure he’d do it cheap, but the thing is, the storage area in the basement fills up quick every year, and you need somewhere to store your beds, and I don’t know how soon he’d be able to build you one because he’s already got a lot of orders,” Melanie explained.

  “Oh, and speaking of the basement, have you been down there yet?” asked the girl with the brown hair, “Wow…creepy!”

  “Well, you know the dorm is haunted, don’t you?” asked Jen in matter-of-fact tones. Chloe fought the urge to stuff her fingers in her ears and yell “La-la-la”. Instead she took the vodka bottle and poured herself another shot.

  “Oh yeah, sure!“ Sam waved her hand dismissively.

  “I’m serious!” Jen insisted, “My brother lived here freshman year and he says-”

  “Let’s do another shot!” Chloe cut in.

  “Settle down there, Lindsey Lohan,” laughed Sam, “What did your brother say?”

  Chloe tried to hide her embarrassment by sipping on her shot and glancing around the room, pretending an interest in ‘college chic’ décor.

  “He lived on the fourth floor freshman year, and sometimes at night when he was in bed, he would hear the bell ringing, really soft up above him.”

  “Okay so? Sometimes the wind blew the bell,” countered Sam.

  “There is no bell in the bell tower, and there never has been,” Jen’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “And that’s not all! One night he and a bunch of guys got dared to spend the night in the bell tower, and while they were up there, they heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and then they stopped, and it was totally silent, and then they heard a scream! It came from right beside him, my brother said.”