by Maria Dee
Silk Scarf
The following morning, a strip of sunlight through the curtains warmed my neck, slowly trickling down and bringing awareness to the rest of my body. In its final attempt to pry me from sleep, the sun danced on my eyelids, creating a beautiful platform of black and orange spots until I opened my eyes and soaked in the bright daylight.
I yawned and growled as I stretched my limbs toward the ceiling. My head throbbed profusely as I sat up, pushing the heavy layers of soft sheets and a comforter from over me. The room spun before me twice and I thanked God for my iron stomach. Had this been Calliope, my hardwood floors would have been desecrated.
With a single tap, my finger print securely unlocked my phone. I reactivated my Cyclopod, which I had turned off before bed. I refused to leave it on overnight like the rest of my friends. When I slept, I didn’t appreciate being disturbed by late-night calls from Marla asking if pink is the new black or some random guy looking to hook up after regretfully having given my number to some loser in a club.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth sluggishly. I was in dire need of some caffeine goodness. None of that decaf, non-fat latte shit—I liked my coffee regular with milk and on occasions like these, simply black.
I quickly checked my messages and saw that I had a VT on Cyclopser, a video messenger service—the most convenient way to send personal messages while on the go. I clicked the image of Marla to retrieve the video text sent this morning.
Marla: “Hey, how are you? Last night was crazy fun!”
I responded back, intent on hearing Marla’s version of the party.
Xenia: “It was unreal, that’s for sure. Anything interesting happen after I left?”
Marla: “Nothing really. The music sucked after you and Mr. Sexy took off. The live entertainment called it quits.”
Xenia: “Hey, did you feel…strange at all, last night?”
Marla: “Well, I was a tad drunk. Define strange?”
Xenia: “Ha! My alcohol tolerance is pretty low after all. I seriously saw some questionable things last night. Anyhow, I’m going to hit up the kitchen. Do you want to meet for coffee before school?”
Marla: “Sure! I can meet you in an hour.”
Xenia: “See you then.”
Marla: “Later, Z.”
I was proud of us for getting up early in preparation for our first day of university. I called Calliope in a final attempt to persuade her, but her voice mail answered instead. She was definitely sleeping in.
My stomach grumbled loudly in anticipation of breakfast as I floated down the stairwell hopping from one step to the next in a good mood. This was actually a bad sign since the good mood could easily turn into a very bad mood if a guy was the source of my newfound contentment.
By far, breakfast was my favorite meal of the day. Only inches away from the kitchen door, I heard the rattling of pots and pans and the smell of freshly brewed coffee—some of my most favorite sounds and scents around the house. However, the creakiness of the wooden stairs giving me away after staying out past curfew, I could have lived without.
“Xenia, would you like some eggs?” My mother asked as soon as I pushed through the kitchen door. She stood by the stove in her apron, which partly shielded her designer business attire, with a pan in one hand and an egg in the other.
“Morning, Ma. And yes, please.”
“The usual?” she asked.
My favorite was sunny side up.
“You know how I like ‘em.” I cut a piece of bread and placed it in the toaster oven. The smell of eggs and bread made my mouth water.
“I’m going to take a quick shower. Be back before you know it,” I said energetically, while I poured myself some coffee. I spilled just a little as I rushed to prepare for the day ahead. I felt nervous and excited for my first day of university.
Once in my room, I realized I’d left a load of clothes in the dryer. No time for folding now. Need to prepare for the day. Amongst the stationary rubble, I couldn’t find a working pen or pencil if my life depended on it. In frustration, I emptied the entire contents of my desk drawer on the floor and searched agitatedly. I gathered a few items and tossed the rest in the garbage bin—something I should have done during my summer break. After I got myself organized, I hopped in for a quick shower.
Once I was soap-free and rejuvenated, I turned off the water and wrapped myself in a soft towel, smelling of a crisp summer breeze—just as the fabric softener promised.
Half of my outfit from the night before hung from my hamper—I couldn’t help but smile. Nicholas was unlike anyone I had ever met. I just knew something good would come out of that night. I tucked the outfit fully into the hamper and unplugged my toothbrush from its charger. Back in my room, I put on a black bra and purple panties. I searched through my closet for an outfit, pulling out numerous jeans and tops, none of which enticed me. A pair of new dark skinny jeans and a plain white T-shirt would suffice as a college look; something that said I’m a college student, but not necessarily a freshman. I was sure my lack of direction around campus would be a definite giveaway, all the more reason for a cool outfit, but not too cool. Indecisively, I left the clothing monstrosity on my bed and brushed my teeth instead. I took a final look in the mirror before I went downstairs to eat. I took my favorite tube of peach lip-gloss with me for later. As I made my way down the stairs, I ran my fingers through my tangled, wet hair a few times, giving it a tussle.
My mother thoughtfully placed my breakfast on the kitchen table with a note. She was running late by the looks of it. Enjoy! Sorry I had to rush. Can you please pick up some milk after school? I tossed the note aside and ate in silence until I noticed that it was eight-twenty. I shoved the last piece of toast in my mouth and took a sip of orange juice to cleanse my palate. I picked up my book bag and threw in a clipboard with paper and the only working pen I could find without raiding my parents’ room. I wore a black leather jacket and lilac silk scarf—my soft and familiar security blanket for the day—before I embarked onto unchartered waters.
My entire wardrobe was new, down to my shoes and book bag; out with the old, in with the new was my new take on life, which was beneficial to me and the foundation where I had donated a car full of clothes. The only article of clothing on me old enough to possess a history was my silk scarf given to me by my mother on my nineteenth birthday. By the look on her face, it meant something to her, thus it meant something to me.
I walked over to Marla’s house and she popped out promptly just as she did in high school. We walked over to the subway, which was only ten minutes away.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Marla chirped.
“Morning, Marla. So I take it Calliope is bailing on her first day?”
“She said she would likely come to school in the afternoon. Her exact words were, ‘Morning bad.’ Then she growled something undistinguishable before hanging up on me. What happened after the party?”
“Nothing happened,” I replied in my best Marla imitation. “Nicholas drove me home and we talked. He’s…different.”
“He’s hot—a ten out of ten on my list,” she beamed.
“He is—isn’t he?” I latched on to Marla’s arm and rested my head on her shoulder. “We only just met and he’s all that I think about.”
“Ah. Love at first sight,” she said, continuing, “I wonder when it’ll be my turn.”
“It’s all in the hands of fate, M. Give it time.”
“Hmm,” Marla hummed, continuing, “How profound of you.”
As we approached the subway, we grabbed a coffee at Tim Horton’s and enjoyed the warm caffeine goodness on the ride. We had forgotten to buy our parking passes, but it was one of the first things Calliope had done because she completely loathed public transportation.
We reached the final stop and the entire subway occupancy exited with us. Marla and I looked at one another, examining each other’s disposition. Instead of using the escalator, we raced for the stairs that led to the bus platfor
m just as we had when we were kids. I won naturally, being the athlete that I was. The endless stairs were tall and steep, making it no easy feat to race without gasping entirely out of breath afterward.
“Oh, you’re so lucky. You had a head start, and I had more people to weave through,” she whined.
“All I hear are excuses, excuses. Just say it. Xenia, you won fair and square,” I teased.
“Fine, but I want a rematch tomorrow,” Marla hissed through her teeth.
“You never said it. I’m still waiting,” I prodded, spiritedly.
“All right already. Xenia, you beat me. There. Happy?” she asked, scathingly.
“Sure am.” I always beamed when I won. It wasn’t as if I had to win, but a little recognition never hurt.
To our dismay, an enormous crowd awaited on the same platform—two buses worth of people to be exact, about to be crammed into one express bus.
“Now this is why we need to register for a parking pass soon,” Marla said.
“I couldn’t agree more.” I began thinking of other ways to help save the environment. For starters, carpooling with the girls.
The second bus pulled up, immediately spewing dust and exhaust in the air. Fortunately for us, it was less occupied, allowing us to sit together before another rush of people stormed in. Marla rested her head on my shoulder for the fifteen-minute bus ride—a smooth ride from the subway station to York University’s Keele Campus.
Once we arrived on campus, I nudged Marla off my shoulder from her power nap. Shortly after exiting the bus, I realized that we’d have to go our separate ways. On the bright side, we had one lecture together in the afternoon—Introduction to Psychology—a two-hour lecture, twice a week that Marla had managed to enroll in at the last minute.
I pulled out my York U map and discretely looked for my first lecture room—Curtis Lecture Hall B. I had quite the trek to make according to the map. First, I would have to locate Vari Hall and then make a right, a left, and then go up a few flights of stairs. It was a good thing I kept the map from o-week.
“Let’s see your schedule,” I said, swiping a paper from Marla’s hand.
“Health Psychology at nine, you don’t want to be late.” It was five to nine and the extent of our campus tour included the campus mall, gym, and student center, from what I could recall, anyway.
“And what do you start with?” Marla asked, grabbing my schedule.
“Intro to Economics—sounds fun,” she said, sarcastically.
“Don’t get lost on your way to class,” I replied, mockingly.
“Happy first day of college!” she beamed, excitedly.
“Right back at you, sister.” I nudged her as we parted ways.
I strolled off in search of my first class. I enjoyed seeing new faces around me, but I knew that a part of me would suffer without a daily dose of Marla and Calliope.
As I reached Curtis Lecture Hall, I passed A and C, but no B. I was starting to feel like I was the rat and the campus was the maze—not a cool feeling. Eventually locating the hall, I approached the door that marked the start of my scholarly pursuits. Smiling, I entered my new classroom. Only a few students had arrived and there were many available seats. Some were talking on cell phones and others surfed the net.
I daydreamed of Nicholas.
I snapped out of my thoughts the moment the lecturer began his welcome speech.
“Everyone, please take a copy of the course syllabus here at the front or pass some back to your peers. Welcome to your very first economics class; Intro to Econ, to be more precise in the event that some of you are in the wrong room. I’m Dr. Hawk.” At this point, a few students scrambled to leave and the remaining students giggled.
“There’re always a few on the first day.” The professor smiled. “Now don’t let the rumors fool you. Economics isn’t boring unless you think it is. My goal here is to make this learning process enjoyable. With all your feedback and participation, I think we can have a very productive year. What do you all say?”
The entire class clapped in approval and he proceeded to explain the syllabus in greater depth, gradually shifting into the days lecture.
Although Dr. Hawk attempted to spark interest in his students—a difficult task to accomplish—the material inevitably was boring. My selection of business and economics classes were primarily prerequisites in preparation for courses to follow, leaving my electives open for fun courses with Marla and Calliope.
Just as I had suspected, narcolepsy swept through the lecture hall like a plague. Even the professor yawned between each topic as if the sound of his voice inflicted a state of self-hypnosis. In my drowsy state, I began to wonder whether there was some mysterious gas emitted in each lecture hall, sedating us all in hopes of generating a monetary surplus in the coffee business or for the university with excess students in summer school making up lost credits—some conspiracy that would be. Since I usually lost concentration in high school after an hour, today marked a new record with only thirty minutes in. My mind had a mind of its own, it seemed.
I fought off sleep until I could no longer hold out. But I did not fall asleep exactly. I involuntarily stared ahead as the room slowly smeared in a series of flickers and flashes of lights ending in complete darkness.
Xenia (Offline):
The sound of dripping water accompanied the scent of ivory in the air, infusing my heightened senses. My skin felt cool and fresh while a soft cloth caressed my forehead down to my neck. I felt bombarded with an overflow of thoughts, yet I desperately attempted to keep my mind still as I heard faint whispers echoing all around me.
“Betsy, make haste! We do have others in need of care,” demanded the woman, whose horrid voice was oddly familiar.
“I am well aware of the others, Maggie,” replied a softer and equally familiar voice. Incoherent mumbling and silence followed and I felt as if I was falling from the sky.
Xenia (Online):
My head throbbed and suddenly the classroom reappeared. I gasped for breath, rubbing my temples in pain. The girl beside me looked alarmed and shifted in her seat distancing herself. I coughed, forcing a smile, until she looked away. I decided that I would stay off the caffeine and get in eight hours of sleep at night. Hallucinations were never a good sign. Soon enough, I could ask Marla for psychological advice after a few lectures—I hoped they started with dream analysis.
As the lecture ended, I left with the other students. I felt unsettled, but that all changed when I saw Nicholas on my way to meet Marla for our first class together. I stared at him long enough so that he noticed me. However awkward it felt, it worked and my nerves tingled in applause. I looked away after he acknowledged me, discretely peering over my shoulder as he spoke with someone by the glass doors adjacent to Blueberry Hill, one of the campus diners. He looked at me, signaling that he’d be a moment. I stood patiently, examining his brown leather jacket and loose-fit jeans; now he possessed an impeccable college style.
Once he finished his discussion, he walked toward me. A gust of wind disheveled his hair across his face. I felt dizzy and inept; the prospects of conversation did not fully register until he stood before me.
“Hey, you,” I said with a nervous smile.
“Xenia, so good to see you,” he leaned in, kissing my cheek.
I stood frozen for a moment, allowing the sensation to resurface to my face.
“I was on my way to meet Marla. I just came from my first lecture, boy was that ever boring. What about you? Did you have class today? I mean, did you work on your thesis or—” I rambled, tensely. “I didn’t expect to run into you,” I whispered, although I thought there would be a big possibility, being that he was working on his masters in psych and I was lurking by the Behavioral Sciences Building—which was nowhere near where I had just been or even where my next class was located.
“I actually saw you earlier,” Nicholas said.
“Oh?” I wondered how I looked.
“You were with Marla. I didn�
��t want to impose,” he said, politely.
“But, you wouldn’t,” I replied, abruptly.
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He waited readily for more.
“You can’t possibly be an imposition on anyone,” I professed.
Pleased by my response, his hardened jaw relaxed, allowing his lips to curve into a smile. I saw Marla standing by the glass doors and remembered we had a lecture in five minutes.
“Are you free tomorrow night?” he asked, softly.
“Yes,” I replied, swiftly.
Nicholas smiled, agreeably. Immediately after, I remembered a prior obligation.
“Shoot,” I exclaimed, continuing, “I have to check my work schedule first. I might have a few shifts left.”
“Fair enough,” he smirked while he motioned with his face over to Marla who was growing impatient. “Your friend is waiting for you. Enjoy your first day.”
“Thanks…you, too…err…with your research, I mean,” I mumbled.
“You mean the mounds of research papers I have yet to read, while my practically untouched research proposal sits on the fence. If I could get in some actual research, it’d be great,” he grinned, taking a step back.
“Thanks,” I beamed.
“For what?”
“For making freshman year seem like paradise,” I smiled and confidently made my exit.
Nicholas grinned as he ran his hand through his hair. I was impressed with my tone and demeanor since flirting did not come naturally to us all as it did for Calliope. I briskly walked toward Marla, looking over my shoulder at Nicholas.
Marla rushed over excitedly. “Oh. My. Friggin’ God! Did he ask you out?”
“He did and I said let me check my work schedule. What’s wrong with me?”
“I should slap you,” she shrieked. “That might help.”
“Oh and I was hallucinating earlier about—”