by Unknown
When we got back to Margaux’s, I noticed her magnificent baby grand in the entryway. I pointed at it, “May I?” She took a seat and allowed me to play. I have played the piano since I was small child. Back in Chicago, I used to give lessons on week nights for my spending money. I know all of Margaux’s favorites. I played them until I eventually cleared my head enough that I could sleep.
Chapter 2
Room 1202
Nightmares came to me. I relived my mother’s death again, just as I had every night since she had died. I heard my own screams and cries. I saw her leave our house and I knew then that I would never see her alive again. No matter how much I begged her not to leave, she did anyway.
Waking in the morning after a restless sleep, I dressed quickly and found my way downstairs. I joined Margaux on the veranda for a cup of coffee and a look at some of her discarded LA Times. After a moment, she stood up to leave and turned to me.
“Good luck. I’m sure you won’t need it.”
I smiled at her.
“Oh, and Ava, I already have plans for the holidays, so you will have to be on your own. The school allows students to stay in the dorms over breaks, so being on your own shouldn’t be a problem.”
My smile slid off my face. I felt defeated and lonely and the thought crossed my mind that the best thing to do was to fly home to my best friend, Mia. She and her mom would take me in with open arms.
Leaving my still hot coffee sitting on the patio table, I grabbed my bags and made my way out to the front drive of Margaux’s home. There I found a brand new, shiny, black Mercedes G Class SUV. I choked on my own breath at the site of my new car. I was expecting a clunker, some sort of metal death trap, considering the car was a gift from Margaux after all. A Mercedes, I’ll admit, is over the top and ostentatious. I should have protested and requested a vehicle more eco-friendly and less expensive but I would lost the battle anyway, Margaux would have yelled at me about being ungrateful and churlish if I had argued with her over this car. I threw my bags in the back with a ridiculously giddy smile and climbed in. I had no idea what made Margaux think I needed this much car, but I wasn’t going to argue. It was fantastic! It had leather seats, satellite radio, GPS, and a great speaker system. My new vehicle beat the hell out of stinky cabs and riding next to creeps on the “L” train in Chicago.
My music was blaring from the speakers and after a comfortable drive, I arrived at The Dana Point Institute’s campus about an hour later. The city of Dana Point is stunning and the Dana Point Institute is tucked away in the hills with a distant ocean view to soften them. I found the main building and walked into an unexpectedly luxurious space – The admissions building was more like a high-end hotel lobby than the foyer of a school. The countertops were marble and they had fragrant blue and white hydrangeas arranged in glass vases for centerpieces. Framed photographs of students in lab coats and on the soccer field dotted the walls. A blue and white banner hung from behind the desk. It read Dana Point Institute, Education for the Unrivaled. A small, very tan woman with frizzy hair was sitting at a front desk.
“Hello,” I said startling her a bit. “My name is Ava Baio. I am new here...”
“Yes, Ava,” she broke in, “Welcome! I am Mrs. Cali, Dean Petropoulos’s assistant. We have been expecting you. Your items arrived yesterday; they are waiting for you in your dorm room.” She handed me a stack of papers.
“Here is your class schedule, dining accommodations, insurance forms and a map of the grounds. You are in Socrates, a coed dorm, and your suite is on the twelfth floor.” She took the map out and marked Socrates with an X, then used a red marker to trace the way to it. I nodded and thanked her for the help as I turned around to leave.
I drove up the road to the parking lot closest to the building labeled Socrates and walked a short path to the dorm. I took the elevator to the twelfth floor and when the doors opened, I was pleasantly surprised.
The floor was bisected by a wide hall that served as a commons area. It was quite large and outfitted with comfy-looking couches and chairs. There was a flat screen TV mounted on one of the long walls. In the center, there was room for a pool table and an old upright piano. A door at the far end of the hall opened to a kitchen that had two of everything.
There were six doors on one side of the hall and six on the other. All but two of the dorm doors were decorated with pictures, dry erase boards with different quotes, and posters. The two blank doors, one right next to the other, were labeled AVA RM 1202 and ARI RM 1203. On Ari’s door, the paper had clearly been attached for quite a while – it had yellowed over time and there was a rip in the corner. Evidently, he was not the ‘decorate your door’ type. Good. I’m not either.
I opened the door to my new home. It was not as bad as I thought it would be. Actually, the room was really nice... small, but in a cozy way, with dormer windows overlooking a quad. The floors were clean and covered in a soft carpet. The walls were painted a light blue with a white trim. A bed pushed against one wall was flanked by a desk on one side and an overstuffed chair with an ottoman at the foot of the bed. There were a few white shelves above the desk and one over the bed. The closet was an all right size; I thought I could probably squeeze my clothes in there if I tried hard enough. The best part was that the windows actually could be opened, with the quad down below and, beyond, acres of treetops rolling out to the shining sea.
The school had thankfully given me a single room but I would have to share a jack-and-jill bathroom with a girl next door to me. The bathroom was just as nice as the bedroom. There were two sinks and lots of storage to unpack my belongings. I plugged my phone and my MacBook into chargers and as soon as they were charged enough, I put on my music, playing it more softly than usual – I didn’t want to make any enemies on my first day at Dana Point.
I live and breathe music. I listen to everything from Louie Armstrong and Bob Dylan and Paul Simon to MGMT and The Foo Fighters. But I like to listen to it loud. Music has a way of speaking to my soul, reaching much farther than skin deep for me. It is my absolute best form of therapy, but here in the dorm I would have to temper my therapy a bit.
After I finished putting my clothes away, I opened a box of mine that contained photos of back home and my thoughts began to move towards the loss of my mother. My eyes began to swell with the threat tears when I heard a small rap on the bathroom door. It opened slowly and a curly head popped in.
“Hey!” a small freckly girl said with a smile. “You must be Ava.”
Very quickly, I wiped my eyes with the backs of my hands and I smiled back at her, “Yeah, that’s me, come on in.”
She took a seat in my chair. “I’m Emily Martin, your suite mate,” she explained.
“It’s nice to meet you, Emily,” I said, truly meaning it. Her distraction was quite welcome.
She told me that the dorm was quieter than usual because most of the people on the twelfth floor live in the area and go home on the weekends. She herself is from northern California, and so goes home only about once a month.
“So what part of California are you from?” she asked.
“Well,” I said, “my grandmother is from L.A. but I just moved here from Chicago.” I attempted to be vague on the details, not wanting to open up about the loss of my grandfather, then mother and the breakup of my boyfriend all at the same time.
“Oh, well, welcome,” she said nicely. “Our floor is the best one to live on; you’re lucky they never filled it. I think they were waiting for Julia to move back, but that’s never going to happen.”
She seemed to assume that I knew who Julia was. She went on, “We throw a party up here every Thursday night. Most of the people from the other floors come up and it’s usually a really good time. All of the people that live up here are nice, some more than others. The girls and I do a lot of shopping trips in Dana Point and in L.A.; you’re welcome to join us whenever you want.”
“Thanks,” I said, appreciating the offer. “I may have to take you up o
n that.”
“So are you Greek?”
“I’m sorry am I what?”
“Greek, you know from Greece?”
What a strange question to ask. I mused.
“I wouldn’t know. My mother was adopted and my father passed away years ago and I don’t know much about him.”
Emily furrowed her brow “Oh…It’s just like, about eighty percent of the students here are Greek so I guess I assumed… I’m not.” She shrugged. “They mostly sit together at lunch and dinner and stuff. Really nice. You’ll see.”
Emily stayed around in my room for a while talking about some of the other people on the floor and the classes and teachers. She was friendly and outgoing, clearly the bold and daring type of personality that I always seem to attract. I thought I could see the two of us being friends, at least I seriously hoped so. I definitely appreciated the fact that she kept the conversation going. I tried hard to connect and ask questions but my heart wasn’t in it. I don’t think she noticed or cared for that matter. She seemed to be content just hearing herself talk, so the friendship would work out nicely. She told me she surfed a lot and invited me to join her some weekend when everyone else was away.
“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t do water.”
“You picked a bad place to move if you don’t like the water,” Emily said with a laugh.
“Tell me about it,” I said dryly.
“Your other neighbor, Ari, is a good friend of mine; he’s the best surfer in the area. Well, that may be a small overstatement, but he’s really, really good and absolutely brilliant. I am sure he can teach you.”
“I really don’t do water, but maybe I’ll watch.”
Emily smiled and excused herself after a while to get back to homework. With Emily gone, I found that I had absolutely nothing to do and it was only noon. I could feel an emotional breakdown coming on so I grabbed my running clothes and headed out to find the school’s gym.
The fitness center was just down the road from my dorm and it was huge. Completely state of the art and unlike anything I had ever been to before. There were basketball courts, tennis courts, and an Olympic sized swimming pool. They had a weight room, a sauna, a yoga and pilates studio. I headed straight towards the indoor track, trying not to be intimidated by the people staring at me, the new girl, unabashedly. I shoved my ear buds in and began my run, falling into the right rhythm almost straight away.
The anxiety and angst began to wash away and once I rounded mile four, I quickened my pace, giving it all I had for my last go around. I finished up at mile five and was walking off the track, completely lost in a TV On The Radio song, when I jumped, startled by a stocky, dark-haired boy with a bright smile. He was gaping at me. I gave a tiny scream and he tossed his head back and laughed. I could feel my cheeks burn with slight embarrassment and I pulled my ear buds out quickly.
“You scared me!” I said trying to slow my beating heart.
The boy stopped laughing and his smile broadened. “I’m Rory; sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Ava,” I said, catching my breath. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, you too. You’re pretty fast, you know that?” I nodded in agreement, not sure what to say. I ran my fingers through my hair, something I do when I feel a little uncomfortable.
“Wanna race?” He asked and I hesitated, not sure how to answer.
“Come on,” Rory said. “It’ll be fun...loser buys lunch.”
The Ava I know would have said something sarcastic, rolled her eyes and walked away. The Ava I know would never have agreed to a race, a bet or a lunch with a complete stranger.
“Alright,” my mouth said without my permission. I guessed it couldn’t really hurt anything and after all I had promised myself I would at least try to make friends here.
I met Rory at the starting block. He counted down from three, and I took off as fast as I could. I could feel him behind me every step of the way. Before long, we were neck and neck. I tried to push myself as far and as fast as I could go but as soon as I came up near the finish line, Rory flew by and crossed the line a foot in front of me. He gave a victory cheer and then laughed again, all smiles.
“Man, that was close; you nearly had me, Ava. But the good news is you didn’t and I am starving.”
Rory hit my shoulder playfully with his fist and I rolled my eyes in a teasing manner and laughed a little bit too. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed.
We took a few minutes to clean up and then walked down the road to a small café on the other side of campus. The place was very cute and full of students chatting about homework, clubs and sports. The sign above the door read “Ambrosia.” Rory pulled out a couple of chairs at an outside table and I took a seat. Our server, who appeared to be another student, promptly came to our table to take our order. She was wearing jeans and a tee-shirt. The shirt had the schools logo on the breast pocket and then on the back, there was a picture of DPI’s mascot, Titan, some Greek guy with a sunbeam crown. Rory made small talk with her and introduced me. Her name was Sarah and she was a junior. Rory made sure to tell her that I was paying for lunch since I had lost the bet. Sarah hit him softly with the menu and laughed as she walked away. Rory ordered a burger with fries and a milkshake and I settled on water and a turkey and avocado wrap. He was incredibly friendly and kept the conversation light and breezy.
“So you’re new here, huh?” he asked. I nodded yes, as I took a drink of my water.
“Do you have your schedule with you? Maybe we have some classes together.”
“I do have it with me actually.”
After a quick rummage through my backpack, I found my new class schedule, and handed it over to Rory. He looked it over with his forehead crinkling as he concentrated.
“Hmm,” he said, “bad news is we don’t have any classes together.” He peered up at me, caught a look of disappointment on my face, and laughed again. “Aw, I’m touched you care so much, but don’t worry, you’ll get your fill of me. The good news is that we are on the same floor of the same dorm. I’m on twelve, too in room 1204.” I smiled. Rory seemed nice and I was thankful to know someone else on my floor.
After paying for our lunch with the new, sleek, black credit card Margaux had entrusted with me, we walked back to the dorm. Rory talked the entire way, mostly about the Thursday night parties our floor throws and the beach parties he has at his parent’s house. We rode the elevator all the way up to the twelfth floor and Rory walked me to my door and leaned against the frame. “What do you have going on tomorrow?” He asked with a kind smile.
“Nothing actually,” I said with a shrug.
“Well, I usually spend the weekend with my family but they are all gone on some trip so if you want I can show you around town.”
I ran my fingers in my hair again and then agreed. “Yeah, ok that might be nice.”
“K.” He smiled, “I’ll drop by your room tomorrow morning.”
I forced a smile, shut the door and then flopped, face first, on to my bed. I wished I had told him no. Rory is nice. Way nice. I just hoped he hadn’t intended our plans to be a date.
The day was overwhelming, new car, new school, new room, new faces and names. I had a hard time letting all of the “new” soak in. It wasn’t late enough to sleep yet so I went through my class syllabuses line by line. Once I was done with that, I unloaded my book collection onto the shelf above the desk. That task took a total of five minutes. I pulled out and unfolded my worn paper, I added to it tally mark No. 8. Seven days since my mother’s death, eight dreams I have had of it. Killing time in this tiny space was going to be a challenge. I sat on my bed, leaned my head against the wall and finally cried.
Chapter 3
Rory
Nearly every night, in my dreams, I find myself in a hallway, the kind of hallway hospitals have -- long, mint green, and punctuated by occasional nurse’s stations. The stations are unattended and instead of the usual blinding florescent lights, the hall
is dim and shadowy. I can hear the beeps of monitors and read what I presume are patients’ names on the doors of the rooms I pass by. Sometimes people call out to me and beg me to come in. Other times they scream at me to stay away. I am always carrying the same thing in my hand -- a long, thin pair of sharp scissors.
I have had these dreams for as long as I can remember. Once, I started to tell my mother about them and she looked at me, horrified, and told me to hush. She told me never to speak of them again. I never even got to the part about the scissors...
****
I woke to my screams. This time the images of my Grandpa Perry’s death haunted me. I could still hear, in my mind his voice as he called out to me in my dream. Asking me to cut his thread; showing me, for the first time what to do with those cold, sharp scissors.
Crawling out of bed with a pounding headache, I downed a couple of Tylenol, and chased it with a bottle of water. I unfolded the piece of paper I had kept for Perry for the past couple of months and added tally mark No. 45. Adding the diagonal tallies used to be my favorites - now I hate them all. I stepped into a hot shower and spent more time than usual scrubbing myself clean. I was nervous and apprehensive about spending the day with Rory. I continually pushed back the nervous feeling in my stomach. I climbed out of the shower, put on a small amount of makeup and towel dried my long, wavy hair. I went to my freshly organized closet, pulled out my favorite pair of skinny jeans and an H&M jersey tank, and paired the clothes with some black and white striped ballet flats.
Rory hadn’t yet arrived so I turned on my MacBook and began to type an email to Mia back home. We had been texting back and forth ever since I left Chicago, but the messages had all been short and to the point. I told her about everything that had gone on so far, which hasn’t been much. I told her about Emily and Rory. I told her how much I missed her. Near the end of my message, I asked her what she had going on for the holidays because, at the moment, my plans were nonexistent.