“Right, do you want to attempt putting the tent up, or shall I just go ahead and do it now?”
Peter grunts, but doesn’t move, so his dad takes that as a ‘yes’ and begins the tackle the tent from the bag. Peter watches on as his heartrate returns to normal and he gets his breath back. He dad has the tent up within minutes, and Peter finally gets to his feet to help. He pulls open the pack on his bag and begins to unpack all of their equipment, including the sleeping bags and fishing rods. They set up their beds and Peter piles his clothes neatly in the corner of his side of the tent.
They set up their fishing rods so that they are in the river, waiting for fish to turn up and catch. They wordlessly gather up the wood and make a fire pit. They set up a nice area, before they even say anything.
“Probably the quickest we’ve ever set up. We’ve done ourselves proud.”
Peter nods as he looks around.
“Yeah, that was pretty quick. Beer?”
“Beer.” John agrees.
Peter grabs two from the cooler and pops the top. He hands one to his dad and takes a deep swig from his own as they sit at the edge of the river.
“The first night is always my favorite.” John says, as she observes the view. “It’s the beginning of the adventure. Goodness knows what animals we’re going to be attacked by, or what illness we’ll pick up from the fish!”
“How are you able to sound excited about that, dad?”
“I’m just enthusiastic about the day’s events. You never know what’s going to happen, and that mystery is the greatest part of life.”
Peter recognizes his attempt to sound philosophical, but Peter can’t help but see it as being ridiculous. He doesn’t like getting sick and he’s not a fan of being mauled by wild animals, either. He just can’t see these things as being reasons to get excited. Instead, he’s just looking forward to eating and going to sleep.
But before that, he needs to talk to his dad about chemistry. That can wait though. Now doesn’t feel like the time. Maybe when it’s darker, it will be better. When it’s darker, he won’t be able to see the disappointment in his father eyes. That will be the best time to do it.
“Hopefully, we can catch a few fish tonight. Otherwise, we’re just going to have to drink beer to gather our strength.”
“Won’t being drunk make us weaker for tomorrow?” Peter asks, knowing that he’s correct, regardless of what his father says.
“No. Hangovers build character and strength. It’s a scientific fact.”
It’s not. Peter knows that. The world knows that. But there is no sense in arguing with his father. He’d only make a joke about how college education doesn’t compare to real world experience, and he shouldn’t just assume that college knowledge outweighs his years of wisdom.
They’ve had that conversation ad nauseum. It was funny at first, because Peter knows that his father is mostly joking, but towards the end, he realised that his dad truly believed that some of his education was wrong. As if knowing the correct function of the liver could be argued against simply because he’s abused his for so long.
At the first hint of darkness, they begin to set the fire up and without using matches or lighters, at his father’s insistence. Its takes them a while, mostly because John refuses to intervene, saying the first act of man was making fire and so Peter must learn sooner or later.
“Some people think that the world is going to come to an end. Imagine if you’re the last person alive, and you can’t even cook food because you can’t make fire.”
“Right, dad. I get it. I’m trying.”
“Well, try quicker. We only have an hour left of natural light.”
Peter rolls his eyes, but smiles.
“I’ll try not to take too long.”
John goes to tend to the fishing lines, but Peter knows that he’s only doing it to give Peter space. He appreciates it. He can’t work all that well under pressure.
He finally gets some smoke to appear and he begins to blow on it until he finally sees flames.
“Dad, I got it going!” Peter shouts, as he marvels at his creation.
“Nice going! See, you’re already one step close to surviving an apocalypse.”
“Yeah, thanks dad. I’ve always been quite worried about that, personally.”
John settles himself on the ground by the fire and warms his hands against the flames. Peter copies, feeling like he’s a kid again. He might hate camping, and he might resent being away from Isobel at such a vital time in their building of a relationship, but he really loves spending time with his dad.
They haven’t talk much since he moved to college, and he often worries that they’ll become somewhat estranged after a while.
“Dad, I need to talk to you about something.” Peter begins, as he opens another beer. “Something important.”
“Is it about that girl?” John grunts. “Look, she seems lovely. I haven’t a bad word to say against her, actually. I think she’s interesting. Beautiful. Not at all your type. She also seems smart and brave. I’m sorry your mother was so harsh over dinner.”
“It’s ok. I know why she does it. Luckily, Isobel didn’t take any of it to heart. She’s really smart. She knows what parents can be like. I suppose a girl who looks like that knows the wrath of an over protective parent.”
John nods, solemnly. He knows his mother had always wanted a daughter, but they couldn’t have another child after Peter, because they didn’t have the financial means. When they finally decided they were old enough to afford another kid, Peter was ten and they were almost in their fifties. They didn’t think they could handle another child.
Peter often wonders whether his dad wanted another child or not. Sometimes, like just now, he says or does things that suggests he’s not as happy as he acts. Peter would love to talk to him about it, but doesn’t really know where to begin.
“But, no, dad. It’s not about Isobel, this is about something else. It’s about my degree. It’s about me studying medicine.”
John looks at Peter with concern. Peter can’t imagine what is going through his head, but John must have a vague idea of where this conversation is going.
“I never wanted to study it. You know that. I was pressured into it by mom. I enjoy it enough, I do, but it’s not my calling. It’s not what I want to do.”
The last sentence come out sounding like a cry for help. He’s begging for his father to understand what he wants. He’s not happy with his life right now, and while he knows that it’s privilege that gives him the right to study in the first place, it’s his heart that makes him want to change. He just doesn’t think he can handle it much longer. He can’t keep doing something he doesn’t want, and in two years, it’ll become irreversible. He can’t have a degree and no desire to use it.
“You don’t want to study medicine anymore?”
“Dad, I never wanted to study medicine. It was mom. The whole time. She always pushed me towards it and told me that my hobbies weren’t important. But chemistry wasn’t a hobby.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’re wanting to quit college to study chemistry?”
Peter watches his dad as he displays a wide array of emotions, but mostly from confusion, to anger and then back to confusion.
“I don’t understand.”
Peter looks at the ground and picks up a stray twig to dig into the dirt. How do you explain something like this to someone who didn’t get what they wanted until much later on in his life? He doesn’t want to sound selfish and entitled. But he also wants his father to understand his decision and accept it.
“Imagine if you met mom in high school— “
“I did.”
“I know that dad. Wait. Imagine you met mom in high school, and you loved each other, but when you left, you married another woman, because your mom liked her more. That’s what this feels like, I think. This is about me doing something I don’t love because someone told me I couldn’t.”
“So, you expect m
e to pay for an extra year of college tuition, because your hearts not in it anymore?”
“My heart was never in it. That’s the problem. I never wanted to study medicine.”
John looks away, towards the river. Peter feels dreadful. He really doesn’t want to be a disappointment, but he can’t help that he doesn’t fit perfectly into his mother’s refined expectation. He loves her, he truly does, but what is he supposed to do? Live an entire life lying about who he is for his mother’s wishes? It wouldn’t be fair.
“Dad?” Peter calls, tentatively. “Don’t be angry. Please, try to understand.”
John pulls in one of the lines, and a fish is jumping around on the end. He holds it up to show Peter, but his enthusiasm is lacking.
He brings the fish over and begins to gut it, and by now, Peter doesn’t know if it’s the fish or the confession that is making him feel sick.
His dad finally places a grill on the fire and then slaps the fish over it. He remains silent for a while, and Peter moves onto his third beer, because it’s the only thing he can do with his hands.
“What are the plans, here? Have you thought about applying to schools? Did you think, for even a minute, that I might not approve? What would you have done in that situation? Where would you want to go?”
Peter takes a deep breath, ready to answer each one.
“I have plans. I’ve thought it all out.” He pulls out the letters and hands them to his dad. “I’ve not decided which one I want to go to yet, but I’ve got a few weeks until I need to send in my answers. And I’ve looked for jobs around each campus, so I think I’d be able to pay for it all, if I got a loan. If you didn’t approve, I’d be on my own. And that’s just something I’d have to do deal with when or if it comes up.”
John reads through each letter, and looks up at Peter.
“Ok.”
****
I walk with Jules to the preschool where we drop Sophia off, before heading to work. I’m feeling better now than I did an hour ago, though infinitely more ashamed of my behavior. I can’t believe I made such a public show of myself. Who even cries on a bench like that?!
How embarrassing.
“You’re sure you’re OK to work today?” Jules asks.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry. It was just too early for me to deal with any emotions. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“You didn’t wake me up. You certainly worried me though. No more of this. He likes you, ok. He really likes you, and you like him too, so there’s nothing to stress about. And long-distance relationships can work. You can make it work.”
“I know. We’ll talk about it when he gets back. I just don’t know if I can wait a whole week.”
“You can. Trust me. Besides, it’s not like you have a choice.”
We walk into the diner and greet Jones’, Jessica and Francesca. I’m glad that I had an hour to get my tears under control, because the red eyes I had would have given me away.
We do what we do at the beginning of every shift, and as the doors open, we set about working. It’s not as busy today as it would normally be, so I purposefully try to keep myself active, because I don’t want to have another breakdown tonight. It won’t do me any good to start crying while everyone is eating.
Instead, I power through the day like a mindless sheep, and when my shift is over, I refuse Jules’ offer for a girl’s night in, and head home. The chill bites at my arm, and I realize I never picked up my cardigan from his house.
Josie will probably burn it.
When I get into my still empty house, I rush upstairs and pull on my most comfortable pajamas and pick up a blanket. I carry it downstairs and fetch a large tub of ice-cream from the freezer.
I settle myself on the sofa and begin watching the notebook, allowing myself to shamelessly sob into the ice cream. I truly don’t know what I hope will happen from now.
I want him to be able to study what he wants, but I also don’t want him to leave me, which I know is selfish. And stupid.
“You don’t even know him.” I tell myself, sternly. “You shouldn’t be so dramatic.”
Despite this, I make no efforts to calm myself down. Instead, I continue to cry and lament our short-lived life together, while curled up in my favorite blanket. I’m slowly getting sick of my rocky road ice cream, but I can’t seem to set it down. The movie finishes, and I decide to watch Bridge to Terabithia. It’s one of the many movies that will have me crying from the beginning, simply because I know what is going to happen and I have little to no self-control.
I’m not even ashamed of it anymore. I need to start accepting me for me, rather than pretending to be someone else. Other Isobel has caused me nothing but trouble, making me fall in love, miss work and now she’s left me in this mess and I have no way to deal with it other than to eat ice cream and cry at movies.
I’m almost at the end of the movie when my phone buzzes. Through the tears, I read a text from Annabelle.
Hey babes, how’s it going with your new man?
Now, I still want to be annoyed with her for talking to me like an idiot the day before yesterday, but I can’t help it. She’s still my best friend, and my relationship advice guru, though I think both those titles are now being shared with Jules.
“He’s going to change from medicine to chemistry, and I’m never going to see him again, so it’s going horribly and I’ve eaten a whole liter of ice cream.” I reply.
“He could still be in the same classes as you, if he studies chemistry.”
I stare at my phone, and think back to all my medical lectures. How am I only just realizing now that he was probably in all my classes. I slap my forehead for my blatant stupidity, and begin to smile.
He did know me. He knew exactly what I was going to tell him. He’s probably spent this whole time wondering why I was lying about who I was. I wonder why he didn’t say anything. Was he being polite? Was he trying to let me live out my dream of being someone else?
I know it doesn’t make much of a difference in the long run, but it means an awful lot to me that he would play along with such a childish game. I really can’t wait to talk to him about it.
Maybe I can convince him to change his degree, but not his university. It will still be selfish of me to want him to do that, but I think he might be up for the idea.
With that high note, I go to bed and sleep dreamlessly.
The next morning, I wake up and start studying. I’ve really not taken it very seriously over the last few days, and I don’t want my degree to suffer just because I’m feeling all lovey dovey.
I study for almost four hours when I hear the door downstairs open. I jump up and quietly creep into the hallway. I look down the stairway, but I can’t see anyone. I can only hear someone moving around.
I try not to let myself panic, but I can’t help it. Again, no self-control. I look around my immediate area for something to use as a weapon, but all I can find is one of the girls stray stilettos. I shrug and grab it, thinking it will make a pretty good defence should it come to it.
I hold it in front of me, kind of like a crucifix and begin to make my way downstairs. Whoever has broken in is in the kitchen, and my heart hammers away in my chest and I sneak in.
“Annabelle?!” I cry, running into her arms.
Annabelle hugs me, laughing.
“What are you doing home? You didn’t even message me.”
“What’re you doing with Crystal’s shoe?”
I put the stiletto on the floor and hug her again. We do a very typical jumping and screaming jig, before separating.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t supposed to be back so early, but things were getting boring out there, so I tried to come home.”
“I’m so glad you did! This week was quickly going to turn into something depressing.”
“Yeah, so I hear. We’re going to fix that. Want to get drunk?”
“Uh, not necessarily.”
“Don’t be dull. I need to go for a quick nap, but we’
ll go to the Dove. Be ready for seven!”
Without another word, Annabelle leaves the room and climbs the stairs. I find myself feeling a lot more excited about the weeks prospects. Annabelle and the girls weren’t due back for another week. Peter had been her only source of interaction outside of work, and she was growing worried that she would have to inflict herself on Jules more.
Isobel returns to studying, but she also gets her outfit for tonight out. She’s striving towards modesty, because she’s not interested in hooking up this time around. She knows Anna won’t approve, but if she’s learnt anything in this past week it’s that she’s done pretending to be someone else.
Unexpected Lover: College Romance Book 1 Page 15