Chapter 1
Excitement? Nervousness? Anxiety? Or perhaps was it sadness, grief or regret? The feeling was almost impossible to determine, yet Owen could feel it so clearly.
As they pulled into the parking lot of school's football stadium to join the queue of cars, several of these emotions were swirling around his head.
Excitement wasn't it, he'd decided. He knew he should feel excitement, finally embarking on the journey so many others had referred to as the best time of their lives. Yet, more cars advanced through the line to pick up their new residence keys and information, the more he could tell he was almost dreading the moment that their car would reach the front of the line. As if this was the point of no return, that these keys would not open this exciting new chapter but rather forever lock away the life he'd known; the first chapter in which he'd finally felt some semblance of belonging, of success. The place that he'd finally been able to look ahead with ambition, rather than dread for whatever trials the next day would bring. No matter how much he yearned for some miracle to take him back in time to that time and place, those people and memories, the line progressed. Ever so slowly, the incoming students received the next 4 years of their lives.
The welcome package was rather simple; a map outlining where students and parents could park and unpack, a letter from the dean, and some small knickknacks to decorate the new dormitory. The two keys were attached to a bright school-themed lanyard that Owen skeptically ignored in favour of the scratches and chipped paint brought on by years of student use. One for the front door, and one for the room. He reluctantly put them in his pocket, tempted to leave them to be forgotten, to free himself from his fate and return to the time he knew had passed.
Despite this emotion he could not describe but could much less ignore, he tried to conjure up whatever excitement lay dormant. If not for his own sake, then for his mother's, who seemed more distraught than he. After already driving to the other side of the country and back dropping off his sister, she had already once faced the farewell dreaded by all parents; now she was to face it again, just days later.
The two stopped for lunch at a restaurant neither of them knew, for this town was foreign to both of them. Throughout the entire socially-distanced process, Owen noticed both seemed only half present; he himself was in his own head, almost numbing himself to the pain of accepting his future, and his mother wrestling the urge to cry while trying to make the most of their last moments together. Perhaps in an effort to remain close despite the distance that would soon separate them, she bought him a Thanksgiving meal in advance, to be redeemed at a later date. As if to hold some tether to link the two of them in the future, rather than leaving with the fear of alienation changing their relationship.
Unpacking was easy. Feeling forced into this new threshold by fate or factors beyond his control, Owen really didn't care where his bags and belongings would go. As long as it fit, he felt no reason to expend the effort to improve a situation that was ultimately hopeless; to feel at home in a place that would forever be foreign. He would not truly understand this feeling or this time until many years later, but this willingness to succumb to it would always be one of his biggest regrets.
"Please treat yourself well," his mother said through a croaky throat and teary eyes. "You'll always have a piece of my heart with you." She could barely finish the sentence. "So please, treat that heart with kindness, take care of it."
Owen knew this must be a hard time for her. She would no longer be there to care for someone who she'd brought into existence, and would now not even be able to see or spend time with any of her three children. Despite this awareness, Owen felt almost numb to any feelings of empathy. He knew she was sad, and of course assured her and comforted her. But a part of him, for whatever reason it may have been, felt that this was just a part of life, one that should be expected. As he had been forced to say goodbye to the people and the life he'd so cared for, it seemed like a natural extension of events that she would have to as well.
As he pondered all these emotions and tried to bury them beneath a fabricated, hollow layer of excitement, the time came to say goodbye. And, as the car door closed and the tires struggled against the loose gravel, Owen watched as the last piece of his old life drove away. He returned to his room, sat down on his bed, and stared blankly at all the objects he'd chosen to bring with him. His whole existence prior to this point, boiled down to a small room-full of now meaningless artifacts.
After it wandered past his cello, the bookshelf haphazardly lined with a sparse collection of socks, shirts and underwear, his gaze shifted to his desk, fixed on the two pictures he'd taken with him: on the left, a photo of the youngest 5 children of his blended family - though blended was a term he chose not to use; on the right, a photo of him with his father. Both pictures filled him with more of the same ineffable emotion, though he could feel a difference. The family picture, 5 kids on the boat his grandfather owned, served as a reminder of the family he wished he could have had, the family he felt he'd been unjustly denied. And the father-and-son portrait, the photo of one of those that served to deny him this family. One of those responsible for countless moments of stress and torment, one that he'd been afraid of becoming since he could remember having complex thoughts.
So, to end his first day in this new chapter of his life, he chose to do away with one final piece of the existence he left behind him; he picked up the portrait, smashed in on the ground, and tossed it in the bin.
