***

leesah-likes

(a memoir)

#09

2007-12-09

bad lucky

It was simple enough of a transaction. But she complicated my mind a little bit.

As she rang up my twenty ounce Irish Cream steamer, my appearance struck her. I was waiting for her to recognize me. We had sophomore year honors English together, and she randomly added me as a friend on Face book a few months ago. I always notice people before they notice me. I tell myself it’s because I’m particularly observant of them, not because they are uninterested in me.
“Are you Lisa?” I nod as she takes my credit card.
“Do you live in Kalispell now?” I asked her. I hope the question came off okay. I didn’t mean to be asking “what are you doing in this town we grew up in? did you not leave and go off to college or something, do you still live here?” but that is, in essence, what I guess I was after.
“Yeah… it sucks to still be here.” Her eyes lowered a little as she said it, but maybe that was just to rip off the receipt for me to sign.
As I scribbled my name, she offered, “I was going to Boston University, but I had to come home to make some money. It kind of sucked to come back because I actually really liked it there.”
She wanted to offer an explanation, because there was a reason she’s home, there’s a reason for everything, and people should know that instead of just judging and saying to themselves, “Well. I see.”
“Yeah,” I replied, appreciative that she was candid with me even know she doesn’t know me well. “Boston’s great,” I offered, as if I’d been there before.
“But my sister got in a car accident and it was like big, there were four cars involved and it was bad, and I had to come home and help out.”
“Oh that sucks” was the obvious response. “But you’ll still get your chance to go, right? I mean, we’re still young, and they’ll be plenty of time for you to leave.”
I didn’t want to sound patronizing or something. I don’t think I did.
I’m glad she didn’t ask, “So what’s up with you?”
Because then I would have to tell her that being in Kalispell right now for me is a vacation, a nostalgic return to my roots. It’s a reprieve from college life, studying intensely, partying crazily, and everything in between. I didn’t want to have to tell her that I go to a prominent liberal arts college that costs a pretty penny, that I was fortunate enough to get in and study a thousand and a half miles away from my un-injured family on my own, and I’m exposed to a thriving intellectual community with world-class professors and opportunities to make a meaningful contribution to the world.
And that I can’t even fully appreciate it. I feel thankful, but I’m more angst-ridden about it-- my challenges and hardships, my inadequacies-- than I am grateful. I’m out, I’m open in the world, no longer encased by these mountains and rural community. I’m learning and experiencing and growing in a stimulating environment, I’m surrounded by bright people my age, I’m lucky to be where I am. And I pout about it, I’m already dreading my return to it. And here she is, she puts one of those sleeve things on the cup of my drink and mumbles ‘thanks’ for my spare change that clinks into the tip jar.
We’re both young, we have hopes and dreams, and we're both stuck. But she’s stuck where we don’t want to be because of misfortune, and I’m stuck where we do want to be because of fortune. Who is at fault? It’s a perplexing transaction. I feel guilty. I feel lucky, but it’s in a bad way.
“Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps telling me, and I guess it’s true,” she smiles. “I guess I’ll get my chance later.”
I have my chance now.
“Thanks for the drink. Good luck.”

leesah-likes at 9:27 p.m.

previous | next