Found in Understanding: Refuge Series Book Three

by Debbie Zello

  The singing stops as a tall black woman turns to face me, smiling. “Hi! I’m Crystal and you are?”

  “I’m Neomi.” I so want to say Firelight, but she lives in California. No one here knows her and it’s probably best that way. A fresh start and all.

  “I’m very glad to meet you. There are two others but they haven’t arrived yet. I took the room on the left without a window. I like to sleep in the dark, windows bother me,” she said fast.

  “I like windows,” I confess.

  “Good, then take the room next to mine,” she said, pointing.

  I took my things and walked to the room on the far left. I had a twin bed against the wall and a desk with drawers next to it. A dresser and closet on the back wall and a window that opened. I could smell the odor of the city coming through the screen. A combination of exhaust, trash and humanity. I guessed I’d have to get used to that.

  I gave my sister a quick call so she could tell everyone I arrived safely. Her going-away present to me was a pre-paid cell phone with a thousand minutes. Seemed like a lot until I began using them. I began unpacking my clothes, placing everything in the dresser. One suitcase fit inside of the other and I placed them in the closet. I suddenly realized I had nothing to hang up. The closet looked so empty like I wouldn’t be staying long. I closed it quickly to forget the image. A knock on the door distracted me. “Come in.”

  “I’m going down for lunch. Do you want to come?” Crystal asked.

  “Should we wait for the others?” I said.

  “We don’t know when they are coming. We have to eat.”

  “Okay!” I said following her out the door.

  We got to the dining room following our noses. It was freshly painted and had the interesting combination of paint and food. I looked around at the other students thinking they all had the same look on their faces. A touch of fright, wonder and freedom. I imagined my face must look the same.

  I got a sandwich, bag of chips and a bottle of water. I saw Crystal at a table with two girls and two guys. I grabbed the seat next to her. “This is one of my suite-mates, Neomi. This is Clarke, Grace, Brittany and Ian.” Crystal said pointing as she gave their names.

  “Hi,” I said, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” they seemed to say one at a time.

  “Where are you from?” Clark asked.

  “Southern California. You?” I responded.

  “Rhode Island, about an hour from here. You’re a long way from home.”

  “Yeah, a long way.” Light years and several planets.

  We began an easy conversation about our likes and similarities. Most of them were theater majors with Ian and myself interested in playwriting. I had heard Crystal’s voice so I had no doubt that she was talented. We made plans to meet back up after dinner. All of us were interested in meeting our roommates so we broke off to go back to our rooms.

  Crystal walked into our suite first and stopped dead as I walked into her back. I peeked around her shoulder to see what stopped her and the common area was filled with boxes, bags, suitcases and people. “You must be Crystal and Neomi,” a voice amongst the clutter said.

  “That would be us,” Crystal said walking in a little further. I finally had room to stand alongside her looking at the mess in front of me. Staggering was the best word for it.

  “I’m Ashley and this is Emma,” she said, pointing between her and the other girl. Ashley was about five-feet-three with blond hair and perfect white teeth. Emma had red braided hair and beautiful emerald green eyes. I liked them both immediately.

  “A box was delivered for you, Neomi. I put it over there,” Emma, said pointing.

  “Thank you. It’s my bedspread, sheets and a blanket from my mom. I couldn’t bring it on the bus,” I explained. I took the box to my room to make up my bed. As soon as I was finished, I went back out to help with Emma and Ashley’s stuff. It took most of the afternoon to get the common area emptied. It would take forever for them to organize their rooms. They came with enough stuff for three people each.

  As we walked down to dinner, I thought…I have friends. They might think I’m quiet, but not weird. They don’t think I use drugs or sleep with my leader. They don’t think I bark at the moon and blood-let in rituals. I’m normal for the first time in my life.

  I sat with my friends at the freshman orientation. There were several professors, department heads, scheduling secretaries and countless others introduced to us. We were told where to find them and their office hours. I looked around at my fellow classmates as they typed on their phones and lap-tops. I wrote on my pad. I may have a new life but it hasn’t completely changed.

  I sat in the third row right in front of the only person on the stage that hadn’t been introduced yet. He was maybe twenty-five or six. He was tall like Sky and similarly built with strong shoulders and arms. His light brown hair was gelled to stick up in a messy sort of way. But, what drew me to him was the tattoo that peeked from under his long sleeved shirt when he moved. It looked like a flame licked his wrist.

  As if it were an afterthought, the president looked down the row of chairs and saw him sitting at the very end. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry. I forgot to introduce to you, Mr. Kane. Mr. Kane will be instructing for Professor Miller in English Literature for a week or so until he returns from England.” Mr. Kane stood and nodded, naturally right at me, or so I thought.

  “You’re killing me here! You left California without getting a fake ID so you can party!” Ashley said furious at me.

  “Truthfully, it never occurred to me. I wasn’t thinking of partying. I was thinking of studying,” I said solemnly.

  “Okay. We can do this. I need a picture and I’ll send it to my brother. He’ll get it made and send it back. It’ll take a few weeks. Do you have the twenty dollars?”

  “Yeah.” I thought about my secret stash for emergencies. This was an emergency…right? Fitting in and not sticking out is an emergency. Even if I don’t drink. It’s a community thing. I can go without a coat for the winter. Right? I went to get the money while Emma got her phone for the picture.

  “Now don’t smile like you’re doing something wrong. Smile like you just got laid,” Emma said. I went for plain happy. I have no idea what a freshly laid face looks like. I am a long way from home.

  Chapter Seven

  Classes began on Monday. I found my way to my first class easily, my map coming in very handy and thankfully accurate. I already missed my high school locker. Carrying all of my books in my old backpack is difficult. To add homework and anything extra that I’d need, it would be a back-breaker. I’d be bent over like I was ninety in no time.

  Lunch was a piece of pizza on the run in between calculus and ancient history. Then I walked into my last class. English Literature with Professor Miller and Mr. Kane.

  I found an empty seat halfway up the lecture hall. There were at least one hundred seats so this would be a large class. There wouldn’t be much interaction, just one lecture after another. That was probably for the best.

  In walked Mr. Kane, all rumpled like he ran to make it on time. It was my understanding that he was working on his doctorate so I’m sure he was very busy. He tossed his books and papers on the desk at the front of the room and fired up the computer. His presentation appeared on the screen behind him. He turned to make sure it was there and then he began.

  “For any of you that missed freshman orientation on Thursday, I’m Royce Kane. Professor Miller will be here in a week or so. He is teaching an American Literature course at Oxford University in England.

  “Professor Miller is a task master. He will not accept any excuses other than your imminent death, so let this be your warning. If he says your paper is due on Thursday, it damn well better be here on Thursday.

  “This course runs for two semesters. Get used to your surroundings. You’ll be here for eight months. So will I. With that in mind, your first assignment is an essay. It must be at le
ast one thousand words. I want you to tell me who you are and why you’re here. Bring it with you to class tomorrow.

  “You will also familiarize yourself with Shakespeare’s play, The Comedy of Errors. Be ready to engage in a discussion of all six acts.”

  I very tentatively raised my hand.

  “Yes, Miss…” he said.

  “Dillon, Neomi Dillon. You said six acts. The Comedy of Errors has five acts, I believe.” I said, sorry that I even opened my mouth. His stare tunneled into me. I felt for a brief moment there was no one else in the room but him and me.

  “Miss Dillon, I believe that you are right. There are only five acts. How many scenes are in each of the five?”

  “Acts one, two and three each has two scenes. Act four has four and act five has one, I believe.” I said, my voice shaking.

  “Who is Angelo?”

  “A goldsmith.”

  “And Solinus?”

  “He is the Duke of Ephesus,” I said, praying I was right.

  “It would appear that you don’t need to read tonight’s assignment. Well done,” he said smiling. I prayed that no one heard the hammering of my heart. It was quite loud to me.

  Shortly before the end of class, Mr. Kane unbuttoned his cuffs and began to roll up his sleeve. His tattoo ran the length of his forearm. It had wide and narrow strips of black ink that curled at the ends. It looked almost like armor and it was stunning in its composition. It was art and design.

  I was exhausted when I got back to my room. My classes were all early. So were Crystal’s. Emma’s and Ashley’s started later and as a result ran later. I sat in the library at the computer staring at the one paragraph of my essay that was completed.

  How can I tell him about myself? That’s why Sky had me come here. To be me and not them.

  What if I just copy the paragraph several times until it totals a thousand words. Is he really going to read these? Probably! Okay, I will give him my life story in an abridged form. I’m not mentioning where I grew up or anything about my family. I was hatched in the chicken-coop.

  “That’s all for today. Your papers on the works of Shakespeare are due on Monday. Miss Dillon, will you see me after class, please?” Mr. Kane said. I looked up at the mention of my name. I couldn’t decipher the look on his face.

  My classmates emptied the room quickly as I made my way to the front of the room. I stood by the desk as Mr. Kane answered a question. He watched the students leave before turning to me. He took a paper out of a folder and handed it to me. “This is crap, Miss Dillon, and I think you know that. Your assignment was to tell me about yourself. This paper tells me everything I need to know about your hometown, school and its farm market. What it lacks is anything about you. Why is that?” he demanded.

  “It says something about me, Mr. Kane.” I look at my paper and read from it. “I am nothing special and therefore I choose to write about what is special.”

  “Why do you feel that you are nothing special?”

  “Sometimes a rose is just a rose. I’ve accepted that.”

  “I’ve known you four days, Miss Dillon. I don’t know why you’re taking this course. You could teach it. If you don’t want to tell the world who you are, that’s fine. Even a rose has secrets buried beneath its petals. You’re allowed yours too. But, you will find as you write that some of you will come out, inadvertently. It can’t be helped because it is who you are.”

  “You gave my paper an A. Why if you didn’t like it?”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I said it wasn’t what I had asked for. I gave it an A because nothing less would do. After reading it, I felt that I came from there. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Blue. His eyes were deep ocean blue. I thought they were dark brown from across the room, but they’re not. They suck you in up close, just like the tide. I wanted to touch his arm to feel the ink that lies just under his skin. I wanted to see if I could feel the difference but instead I nodded, turned and walked out.

  I went the long way back needing the extra time to clear my head before running into Crystal or someone I knew and having to talk. At a crosswalk on College Street, I saw a sign in a window that read ‘Help Wanted.’ I crossed the street and walked into the coffee shop. “Can I help you?” a man behind the counter asked.

  “I saw the sign in the window for help. I need a job.” I said, nervously.

  “Have you ever worked in a restaurant before? Fast food or anything?” the man retorted.

  “No, I haven’t. I worked at a farmer’s market, if that counts.”

  “I guess it would. You know how to wait on customers. The problem with this job is it’s the early shift. We open at five in the morning,” he explained.

  “That would work for me. My classes start at eight-thirty.”

  “So if you’re out by eight can you make it in time?”

  “I could!” I responded excitedly.

  “Then you have a job…Miss…I didn’t get your name.”

  “I’m Neomi Dillon.”

  “Neomi Dillon, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Paul Masters.”

  Mr. Masters gave me a short tour and showed me basically what I would be doing. I filled out paperwork for my first paying job. I was almost giddy. I’d have spending money! He gave me three shirts and aprons to wear as my uniform. He said black jeans were fine to wear. I have a few pair of them.

  I bounced into our common room but halted when I saw Ashley crying on the couch. “What’s wrong?” I asked, flying to her side.

  “I met a guy last week when we were moving in. He is mad gorgeous and rich. We met for coffee and made-out in the TV room downstairs. I slept with him this morning. When he left he said ‘thanks, that was number one.’”

  “I’m so sorry, Ashley. He’s a jerk,” I said, with my arm around her.

  “That he is. I feel awful. I’m going to take a shower.”

  “That’ll help. I always feel better after a shower.” She got up from the couch and went to her room. I sat there a few more minutes with my thoughts wondering why she would sleep with someone she barely knew. My mom said sex was reserved for someone you love. I guess Ashley loves a lot quicker that I do.

  I passed my second weekend reading ahead and getting started on two long-term projects. I hate being late. I hate not being prepared. I hate having to rush to finish.

  Wednesday, I walked into English Lit to find Professor Miller had finally arrived. Mr. Kane nodded in my direction when I walked in and Professor Miller’s head snapped to look in my direction. Mr. Kane said something to him but I couldn’t hear what was being said. Nor could I lip read. Failing at everything I simply took my seat.

  Once the lecture hall filled, Professor Miller began. “I want to thank Mr. Kane for keeping our ship at sea while I finished my program in England,” he said. I smiled at his nautical metaphor. “We will continue where he left off.”

  Now that Mr. Kane no longer had to engage every student in his lecture, he had the time to periodically stare at me. I would be taking notes and look up and there were his eyes. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable, like I was being evaluated on my appearance. If that was the case, I would surely fail.

  My job at the coffeehouse was so much fun. The everyday working people that came in were kind and generous tippers. I was going home with thirty to forty dollars in tips every day. It was a good thing because it was chilly in the morning and I needed a coat. Where I come from a sweatshirt or sweater was all you ever needed. My suitemates thought I was crazy saying ‘you don’t need a coat until November.’

  I found a perfectly-good, almost-new, coat in the consignment store down the street. I walked in to our suite and spun around to model for them. They clapped and I took a bow. Then Ashley handed me my new ID and shouted, “Now we party!”

  Chapter Eight

  “We’re going to The Anchor only because we can walk there. We go together and we leave together,” Ashley said.

  “I’ve never done this so I’m not say
ing a word,” I said.

  “You’ll do fine. Just show your ID when the server asks for it and then put it in a safe place,” Emma said. We walked down College Street and right into the bar. It was a cute place with lighthouse shaped lamps and turquoise booths. There was a jukebox in the corner with neon lights. We grabbed a booth and my girls got ready to order. I went with a beer.

  The drinks arrived and I took a small sip of my beer. “Yuck! How can you drink this?” I asked, looking around the table.

  “What? It’s good. Takes a while to get a buzz but you’ll get there. Just keep drinking it,” Emma said.

  “No thanks,” I said pushing the glass to the center of the table.

  “Fine, I’ll drink it,” Ashley said.

  “You should have gone with a glass of wine. It costs more but you might like it better,” Crystal said.

  “I don’t think I’m much of a drinker.” I decided the next time the server comes over I’m getting a soda. We’re all talking when the music from the jukebox starts. It’s an oldie from the nineties.

  “Let’s dance! Loosen up some of these old farts,” Crystal said.

  “I want to throw some shapes and wiggle some ass!” Ashley added. Up from the table we ventured out on the small space to dance. I mostly stood there swaying hopefully in time with the music. I wasn’t much of a dancer. I spent my spare time reading the classics.

  “Put some hips into it girl,” Crystal said, putting her hands on my hips to demonstrate. I began to loosen up a bit and I put my hands in the air mimicking Emma. I closed my eyes to try to feel the music more. Crystal put her hands on my hips again. She spun me around to face her and I felt an arm circle my waist and pull me close. I opened my eyes to see a man leering at me. He smelled of sweat and alcohol.

  “Get away from her,” Ashley, pushed him back. She had her arm around me. “Leave her alone, Ray. She is out of your league.” I’m staring between them.