Wahoo

by B. P. Kasik

  That was neat. Cara liked seafood. About two-hundred calories per serving of fish.

  Cara liked a lot of what she’d seen during orientation.

  She’d probably never be interested in the party scene here—even on a normal non-Midsummers eve—but there was a lot to love.

  She’d enjoyed the libraries, the secret lore, the architecture, the cleanliness, and the people. Biggest highlight: getting a whirlwind tour from Christie on the lesser-known sights and facts that weren’t on the corporate tour.

  She hadn’t ventured outside the bubble of the University, but she looked forward to exploring the historical sights around town in the surrounding counties. She’d always wanted to see Monticello and Montpelier. She heard there were some great nature trails through the mountains. A far cry from the pancake-flat Northern Virginia suburb where she’d been born and raised.

  It was all fresh, different, and ready for her to put her mark on it. She could finally get some control of her life here. Make her own decisions.

  She was happy with her decision to attend UVA, regardless of the evening’s events. And her struggles on the previous evening…

  In other good news, no more pukers interrupted her way as she made her way down University Avenue, nearing the trolley stop.

  The nearby Rotunda was glowing, with a row of lights behind the giant pillars. A pair of spotlights glowed at the base of the white stairs leading up to it. The historic building was so bright and vivid, it looked like a Hollywood special effect.

  And then a sound emerged from the distance.

  It was faint at first, then grew louder and louder.

  People paused their revels. The party music stopped. Everyone stood still and silent. The only sound was from a few bottles shattering as people dropped them.

  Sirens.

  Lots of sirens.

  And following their warning sound was the flash of lights, red and blue. They came from every direction.

  The crowd was paralyzed by the sight of cop cars appearing from both directions and several paddy wagons rolling down the narrow Rugby Road.

  It was an impossible number of police cars, coming from everywhere. It reminded her of that ridiculous scene from a movie her dad showed her, where it seemed like an endless number of police cars fly around and crash. This was way more police cars than in the film about the blues guys.

  An air of panic went through the crowd as the vehicles stopped. The panic increased as the doors opened and officers came pouring out.

  She seized up as she thought about the local law enforcement horror stories she’d heard from Bill earlier that day.

  It felt like the police vans and cars were closing in on her like a noose, blocking her escape in every direction.

  She figured they would be blasting corrosive tear gas into the crowd any second.

  Then Cara had a thought she was sure no woman had ever had before:

  Maybe I shouldn’t have left that frat party.

  Chapter 2

  Two days before Midsummers

  Cara made sure everything would fit in her overnight bag, took it all back out, and lined it up on her bed: clothes, toiletries, makeup, medication, a Faulkner book—

  “Need any help, hon?” her mother asked from her doorway.

  Cara smiled nervously. “I don’t think so. I think. Is there anything I’m missing?”

  Her mother walked in, looked at her bag. “Pack some sunblock. You’ll be outside a lot. You’ve got your father’s sensitive skin.”

  Cara nodded. “I hate the way it makes my face look all ghoulish when I smear it on, though.”

  “We have a stick of it; you can apply it without leaving any visible residue. I’ll find it, put it in your bag tomorrow morning.”

  “Thanks.” Her parents liked to give her choices. Sometimes too many choices.

  “You’re packing a book?”

  Cara laughed. “I know I won’t have time to read it. I just like to have a book handy.”

  “Why?”

  “Just because.”

  Her mother looked at Cara’s crowded, disorganized bookshelf. “I used to like to read.”

  “Oh, Mom.”

  “I know, I know. You’re leaving soon. Your brother will be gone before I know it. Then I’ll have all the reading time I could ever want.”

  “Facing the imminent empty nest, huh?”

  Her mother laughed. “It’s coming. It all happened too fast. You and your brother grew up so quick. The days stretch on forever, but the years pass in a flash.”

  Cara hugged her mom. Mom hugged her back.

  Her mother reluctantly released her, then asked, “Need a snack? Herbal tea, maybe?”

  Cara wouldn’t mind a granola bar, which was acceptable since that was two-hundred calories, and she’d only eaten twelve-hundred calories that day. But she’d rather enjoy the victory of staying below her daily calorie count. Tea had no calories, though.

  “Herbal tea would be great.”

  “Which flavor?”

  Another choice. “Peach, please.”

  “You got it.”

  Cara put everything back in her bag, putting the book on top, Faulkner’s Requiem for a Nun. She always made her book most accessible, at the same time trying to keep it from getting warped or creased under the weight of other stuff. Wasn’t sure why. Maybe to maintain its condition for selling on eBay or trading in at a used bookstore someday? Probably not. She only bought books she already loved or was confident she was going to love.

  And she loved Faulkner above all. She’d read As I Lay Dying in junior high, didn’t understand a word of it. But she loved that there was an entire chapter consisting of, “My mother is a fish.” There was a demented genius at work there. It compelled her to keep reading the guy and read up about him online. His loose, casually brilliant, sometimes crazy style appealed to her in a way no other literary authors managed. He could be cold as ice yet red-hot within the same paragraph. Heck, the same sentence. There were still large chunks of his work she didn’t understand, even after reading the book’s Wikipedia page and Googling around for academic interpretations. But she liked the way his words came together, the effect they created.

  When she found out Faulkner had been a Writer-in-Residence at UVA in his later years, she knew that was the school for her. She heard the library there even held some of his original handwritten manuscripts with crossed-out lines and edits.

  UVA obviously had a great academic reputation. Plus, it was only a couple hours from her home in Manassas—not so far she’d never see her parents, not so close she’d get visited too often.

  But she’d also heard a lot of bad things. The Rolling Stone story, even though it was eventually completely debunked. The school president was fired a few years back, but then unfired after public outcry. There was some awful prominent white supremacist who graduated from there, but everyone at UVA strongly disavowed him.

  There was this consistent pattern of something that looked disastrous at UVA…until she did a little digging and found there was more to it than met the eye. The school was probably a typical victim of the outrage-du-jour culture where everyone freaked out about something, then forgot about it and moved on to the next big offense-giver. Most people didn’t follow up on news stories to see about follow-up investigations or context. Cara did.

  Her phone vibrated. It was a text from Lawrence. “Cool to call?”

  She liked that about him. He didn’t just barge in with a phone call. He always made sure it was cool with a text ahead of time. Nobody called anymore, so good etiquette there.

  She responded by calling him.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” she said.

  They paused. “Okay, I guess that’ll do for this evening. Bye, Cara!” he said.

  “Stop that,” she said with a laugh.

  “Okay. But if we have a silence longer than three seconds again, I may need to revis
it my policy against pretending to hang up.”

  “Fair enough. So how was work?”

  “It’s a pool. People swim there. They pay me to sit next to it. With no deep end and no diving board, it’s a pretty chill job. Parents hover around their kids the whole time, so my lifeguarding is mostly done for me.”

  “Good, good.”

  “Helicopter parenting for the win. So you ready for your big college debut?”

  She looked at her bag. “Yep, all packed.”

  “Bourbon bottles and college sweatshirt?”

  “Right. Also a white sheet so I can participate in a toga party.”

  “Will I see your adventures on Instagram or Snapchat?”

  “Nah, gonna do a social media blackout for the next few days.”

  “Wow! Not even gonna make a public announcement? Classy!”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna just try to experience things without sharing them.”

  “I can’t hear you. I’m too busy fiddling with Facebook on my iPad while watching Buffy on my computer.”

  “You probably are.”

  He laughed guiltily. “Well, Buffy is playing on my computer. I’m barely paying attention. This show started sucking when she went to college.”

  “I don’t disagree. You liked the high-school stuff, though, right?”

  “I did, I did. Solid recommendation, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. Then—there was a silence.

  She waited for him to joke about how he was gonna hang up, but he behaved. She liked Lawrence. They’d been going out for almost a year. There was a lot to like about him. Also a lot that left her wondering.

  “So when will I see you back?” he asked.

  “Friday night.”

  “Cool, cool. Wanna grab dinner?”

  She didn’t. She liked going out with him, but restaurant meals were a hassle. If she ordered or ate too little, she’d look anorexic, probably get questioned. If she ordered or ate too much, she’d get sick or stressed (or tempted to look for the nearest bathroom). Either way, the calorie-counting of unfamiliar foods would be a drag.

  Lawrence knew about this. She told him once food was an issue for her, and she was self-conscious about her appearance. She didn’t do it to fish for compliments or be constantly reassured she had a proper weight for her above-average height.

  It was just…everything in her life felt like it was spiraling out of control, but her weight felt like one thing she could control. Lawrence might or might not be joining the military as soon as they graduated. Would that mean breaking up or getting married? He could hold a conversation. Was one of the only guys she knew who didn’t play video games and watch porn all day. He was one of those Evangelicals who took the no-sex-before-marriage thing seriously. So…nice to not have that pressure. But did all of that make him marriage material? Was it completely insane to marry your high-school sweetheart? Why wasn’t he willing to declare their relationship on social media?

  And why would he ask her on a food-related date? Was he even paying attention on those times when she bared her eating-disordered soul to him?

  But all she said was, “Yeah, we’ll see.”

  “Cool.”

  “How was ROTC today?”

  “Went really good! My time in the weight room is starting to pay off. I—”

  And her brother came into her room shouting, “Can I have your iPad while you’re gone?”

  Cara sneered at him. “Ugh, go away!”

  “But Mom said to ask you. She said you probably won’t be using it on your college trip. I figured—”

  “Out!” Cara gently pushed him out the door, closing it behind him.

  Lawrence laughed. “I hope ‘go away’ and ‘out’ weren’t directed at me.”

  “No, just my idiot brother.”

  “Gotcha. All right, I’ll let you get back to getting ready for your trip.”

  That was how he wrapped up all their conversations. By saying, “I’ll let you…” do whatever you were doing. Made it seem less like he was dismissing you, more like he was doing you a favor. It was charming at first, but grew mildly annoying over time. Like a lot of things about Lawrence. But she tried not to overanalyze.

  “Sure, I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “Don’t drink too much!”

  “Ha. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  She knew he knew she didn’t drink. She’d tried drinking at a friend’s house in junior high. Just didn’t care for it. Made her feel woozy. Cara figured pot and other drugs were much the same.

  She was about as done as she could be with packing. She didn’t want to think about her upcoming visit anymore. So she grabbed her brother-coveted iPad off her desk and brought up her profile on the family account.

  Several dozen movies and shows on her list, along with dozens more that were “Recommended.” No way she’d see them all before they expired. Ever since Doctor Who disappeared from the site while she was halfway through it, she’d been cautious about getting too involved with a show. Knowing any show could disappear at any moment made it tougher to watch. She tended to just dabble, watch an episode of this and an episode of that, rather than focusing on any one thing.

  Netflix was a great service—there were just too many choices on there. She swiped her way through her list, trying to decide whether to watch Arrested Development or Angel or Gilmore Girls or Futurama or Kimmy Schmidt. They all sounded great. But it was all just too much.

  She turned off her iPad, rolled over, and closed her eyes.

  She thought about that song by the annoying-sounding band her younger brother loved so much, where a high-pitched singer said something about choosing not to decide still being a choice.

  She didn’t really connect with her younger brother. They were six years apart, didn’t really spend much time together. He was into all this weird progressive music he called “prog rock,” which she originally heard as “Prague rock,” making her wonder why musicians in Prague were so keen on crazy keyboard and guitar solos. She suspected he just liked it because it annoyed and confused people.

  She could hear him in the next room, listening to a band she recognized as Dream Theater. One of the wankier bands in his wheelhouse.

  But it made him happy. He knew what he liked. She wished she could just enjoy things, have a simple life with simple pleasures like him.

  She drifted off.

  She dreamed of food. Lots and lots of food.

  Chapter 3

  Keeping it simple, she packed everything into one backpack and dropped it in the van.

  It was a sunny day in early July. Cara was wearing a pair of blue shorts topped by an orange Cavaliers shirt. Figured she could blend right in at school by wearing a mascot shirt.

  Her dad gave her a tight, tender hug on her way out the door.

  “Stay away from the frats,” he said.

  “Sure.”

  “But if you must, then be safe and take a friend. Don’t go alone. Just be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “You can be anything you want to be, so be careful what you become.”

  Cara laughed in his face. “C’mon, Dad. I’m just visiting the college for a couple days. Can you lighten up?”

  He smiled, ruffling her hair. “Sorry,” he said. “I tend to pomposity. Here.” He handed her a green credit card. “For any incidental expenses.”

  “Cool, how much can I spend?”

  “Be reasonable. But I won’t look at the charges on the bill.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “And I appreciate you. Have fun. Just…” He clearly wanted to say more, but didn’t want to overwhelm her or seem overbearing. So he just kissed the top of her head. “You know.”

  “I know.”

  He smiled, and walked back inside.

  Then—much to her surprise—her little brother ran up to her and gave her an even bigger hug. “Please be safe.
I’ll miss you.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course I will. I love you, sis.”

  “You do?”

  He looked hurt.

  “I love you, too, little bro!”

  She gave him a hug.

  He was near tears as she walked away, then he ran back inside.

  Where did that come from? Was she closer to her little brother than she realized?

  She turned to find her mother was standing by the van, wide-eyed with a bemused smile. “I’ll try to work up some tears when I drop you off, hon. I don’t want your brother to upstage me!”

  “Oh, Mom.”

  They drove off to Cara’s college orientation visit. The trip was perfectly smooth.

  Things were off to a great start.

  Chapter 4

  Cara kept her good-byes with her mother short. Mom was getting all mushy. Their hug was going on too long. There was no need for that silliness when she was only going to be gone a day and a half.

  “I’ll call home at least once a week, Mom. I promise.”

  “Oh, stop. I just want you to be safe. Happy. All those things.”

  “I appreciate it. If you love me, set me free.”

  Her mother did so. Cara looked around, saw similar scenes of young men and women being embarrassed by parents. She supposed that was just part of life. She was glad she had a mom she would miss.

  “Okay, good-bye.”

  “Good-bye,” her mom said. Cara turned and made it a few steps away before her mom couldn’t help herself, calling, “Don’t forget to brush your teeth!”

  Cara shut her eyes, kept walking, hoping no one realized she was connected to that lady.

  She followed the general movement of the crowd as it migrated toward the New Dorms. Some of them looked like three-story motels from the fifties, with exposed hallways along the front of the rooms. Some looked like epic futuristic hotels with glass suites in the middle of every floor overlooking the sprawling city view as the floors reached higher and higher.

  Cara ended up in one of the motel-looking dorms.

  A squad of orange-shirt-clad student workers made their way through the crowd, taking names, herding people into their new assigned homes for the next thirty-six hours.