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.