Tough Love

I have to be a procrastinator or just stupid. Maybe both, but at least one has to deal with the fact that it is the day before my first day of senior year, and I haven’t made the decision to move into my dorm until now.

Steven is already set. He’s got his array of clothes neatly folded in his drawers and work arranged in class order on the shelf. He’s been here since they opened the building a week ago. I moved in with him at the start of last year and they let us keep our spot. We’re not the best of friends, but he’s a chill guy and my actual best friends are only a few doors down from me.

My clothes will be folded in half and thrown in one big clutter that includes no organization or fashion sense. Steven’s Polos and slacks put shame on my sweatshirts and jeans, but my lack of styled outfits is the least of my concern. I’ll try every once in a while, but in a world full of interesting things, clothes don’t seem like something that should be prioritized. It’s not important when you look at the bigger picture. People care too much nowadays about things that simply don’t matter. Everyone’s dressing to impress others and it’s depressing. I’ve already given up on most people around me, so no need to impress those that I don’t care for anyway. There’s one piece of clothing that holds importance in my life, however, and it’s a t-shirt from the Fiske University Media Production Club. I never bothered to join any clubs myself, but this shirt belonged to my boyfriend. I used to share a dorm with him during my first two years. I try not to think about him too much though- still feels like a fresh wound.

“Did you get to do much during the summer?” I ask Steven. Living with him last year felt like I lived alone the majority of the time because he was never there. He was always doing some kind of advanced class or working. Living with him is a shot to the ego. Point is, I don’t know him as well as I should. I don’t even know what his hobbies are, if he likes his family, if he has a best friend. He definitely doesn’t have a girlfriend. That, I would know.

“Just my internship. Did a lot of school work.” He unboxes my sheets. They are the same two that I used last year. I know that he’s judging me under the enigma of a poker face he has.

“Well besides that. Did you hang out with friends? Travel anywhere? Go to any shows?”

“I didn’t have the time. I’ve always wanted to go to Davos though.”

“Where is that?” He talks purely to make me feel stupid sometimes.

“Switzerland.” Steven says, and he looks like he’s about to tell me why, but there’s a knock on our door, and I hear Damon’s muffled voice on the other side.

“I hear Zak Fuches has finally moved into his dorm.” he says theatrically. I open the door and he’s waiting for me in a shimmery pink top and flared black pants. “You thought you could weasel your way in here without telling me?”

“I definitely didn’t. I just have a lot of stuff to get done.” I tell him and he does a scan of my dorm. He does not care to hide his judgment.

“Well, whenever you’re done with that, stop by our dorm. Krya is already over and you’re the last piece of the quartet.”

“When did you and Emerson get here?”

“We both moved our stuff in three days ago. You’re late.”

I wish that every day of college could be how it is before all of our classes actually start. Tonight is nice. The four of us are spread out, half-baked on the floor. Emerson bought these shitty beers last night that we’ve all been nursing. He turned 21 about a month ago and we all like to make fun of his poor taste. He gets what the paycheck allows him to, though. We all drink them anyway, regardless. We’re not drinking for it to taste good. I’ve been here for a few hours and couldn’t fully tell you what we’ve been doing the whole time. The conversation started on a completely different page than it is now. I share good laughs with these guys and it doesn’t even matter what we do. I just know I always leave feeling good.

Kyra is leaning onto Emerson’s chest and he’s playing with her hair as she talks. She doesn’t even take notice of it. It’s normal for her to be treated like that. He’s very delicate in the way he moves his fingers too. And whenever he takes a sip of his beer, he moves his arm smoothly so it doesn’t interfere with her position on his body. They’ve been a couple coming up on three years, and they’ve both been my friends since the top of junior year, so I shouldn’t be phased by it. I feel a bit jealous at the moment though. I miss being in a relationship. I miss belonging to someone, the breath of a kiss, waking up to someone that looks at me as passionately as Emerson looks at Kyra.

Junior year wasn’t like this. My mind was occupied with grief. It still is in a number of ways. It doesn’t go away. It’s just not a constant feeling every day anymore.

Luis left at the end of Sophomore year. We were really happy together. I know he loved me. But I still can’t quite understand why what we had wasn’t good enough for him to keep going. He didn’t think it was worth holding onto. That summer was filled with a lot of pain. I didn’t do anything. My mom tried to get me out of the house, but it wasn’t much use. Damon came over every once in a while when I would let him and he’d just kind of talk at me.

“Zak.” Damon places his hand on my shoulder. I do that a lot. I get lost in thought and the physical world around me ceases to exist.

“What?”

“You have sociology at 10:30?” Emerson asks me. He looks like he’s been looking at me for a while. Kyra is still draped over him. It’s almost like she’s rubbing it in my face. It’s quite weird that I long to be in her position instead of Emerson’s. He’s still looking at me. He’s holding her hand. I think of Luis.

“Yeah.” I respond. “10:30.”

I don’t come back to my dorm until two in the morning. Steven is asleep when I come in. Good call, considering we both have class so early. I immediately crash into my bed. I feel different than usual. I don’t know if it’s the wave of mourning that’s smacked me in the face, the new school year, but I can’t shake it. I’ve never considered myself a jealous person before. I am happy for Emerson and Kyra, I am. They are a good couple. They deserve their relationship. But sometimes I look at happy couples and I wonder what they did differently to deserve to keep it. I look at them and feel envious.

***

I didn’t fall asleep until five this morning. I kept flipping from side to side, trying to find a comfortable position, but my mind wouldn’t shut off. I’m running late for my photo class, which started at eight and it’s currently almost a quarter past. Professor Gibbons never takes my bullshit, and that’s because he knows it’s never excusable. This is my fourth year with him and there are very few of us majoring in photography in my year, so he gets to know his students pretty well. My attempt to slip in unnoticed fails when Gibbons slides me a look. First day of class and already late. Great going, Zak. Off to a spectacular start. The only spot open is at the end, next to Sam. I don’t know her very well. She’s usually talking to the girls in the class.

“Library boy.” she says as I take my seat.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve seen you working in the library. That is where you work, right?”

“Work study, yeah.”

“I’m gonna start working there this week. Maybe I’ll have a shift with you.” Gibbons does an exaggerated cough. It’s not very easy to have side conversations in a class of 15. He goes on to explain our senior project and I’m not gonna lie, I was expecting more. What am I supposed to do with a big project that shows who I am as a photographer? It’s incredibly vague. Art is abstract, subjective, yes, but how am I supposed to create something with instructions as little as that? I’m not entirely full of ideas right now. I was hoping for his prompt to spark some inspiration, but that’s a mediocre prompt if I’ve heard of one.

“I have so many ideas; I don’t know which one I should go with.” Sam turns to me again. Of course she does. Because everyone here is practically a professional photographer at this point and I am merely an impostor who plays around with a camera. “I’m thinking of documenting bands at concerts, or maybe I can even do something with the crowds. I know I want to get more show gigs though. What do you typically shoot? What ideas are you thinking about?” I find her voice irritating. It’s not because she’s annoying. I mean, she is a little much, but she has all of these projects bouncing around and I just have a head full of crickets and jealousy.

“I don’t know yet.”

Once my class is over, Emerson is waiting for me outside. It’s a bit of a walk for him considering he comes from another building a few blocks away, but he insisted that he didn’t mind it- that he needed some sun. We were gonna walk together to sociology, but we have some wiggle room, so we’re making a pit stop at the tables the campus provides outside. Not many people sit at them during the year because it gets freezing here in Colorado by the time November hits, but still being in the weather-safe zone with everyone motivated for the new school year, they’re typically a bit crowded for the first few weeks.

I was considering texting him to go without me. I’m already dragging my feet on the ground and resting my eyes every five minutes. I want to go back to my dorm, skip sociology, get some sleep in, but it actually sounds nice to talk with Emerson for a little bit, even though my craving for socialization is very minimal at the moment.

“How come you chose Sociology anyway? Thought you only had to take mandatory courses now.” Emerson asks.

“Thought it would be useful. Communication skills. Also, it’ll look good for future jobs. And if you have a better understanding of the world around you, you can create better media.”

“I wouldn’t take anything that’s not required of me in this place. I need the credits.”

“How come you didn’t knock it out last year?”

“I was too tired. I don’t know why I thought I’d be any better this year.” He’s right. I can see the prominent dark circles under his eyes. “It’s the first day, but I’m already exhausted.”

“I don’t think it’s school that’s tiring you out then. I think we just tend to use that as an excuse to avoid what’s actually tiring us. You didn’t seem too on your feet during the summer either. They overworking you at the thrift shop?”

“Thrift shop is dead.” Emerson rolls his eyes. “I do have to go right after class though.”

“You look tired, man.” I tell him. Maybe if he has someone tell him that’s not his own self-deprecation, he’ll actually take care of himself.

“What, you don’t think I look pretty when I’m sleep deprived?” He smirks.

“No, really. Just take care of yourself, alright? I don’t like a lot of people, but I care about you.”

“Zak has feelings?” he teases. Too many.

“We did stay up for a while last night though. I don’t blame you. We’re both shot.”

“Last year we had you stay all the time until sunrise without even realizing it.”

“And then I would say I had to go and you two bribed me with one more round of our game.”

“Oh, it was never one round though.” Emerson shakes his head.

“Of course not. I knew that. Neither of us had morning classes for that second semester- gave us way too much freedom.”

“Kyra was the only one who did. She had to leave by like midnight which was still pretty late, but considering our sleep schedules were screwed, it felt early.”

“And she stole you away with her half the time.”

“Cause God forbid I spend time with my girlfriend.”

“No. As your friend, I don’t allow it.” We laugh. “But yeah, we can’t be pulling that shit this time. We all have to be up early now.”

“Maybe like… a few skips.” he teases.

“Dude. Don’t say that because you know I’ll do it.” Emerson gives a weak chuckle and we get to our table, where Damon waits for us. I wasn’t expecting to see him here. The whole point of walking to class together was for one on one conversation, or at least I thought. I love Damon; it’s not that he’s ruining anything. I just like more personal time with people and I feel like I only ever see Emerson on account of Damon. He’s a joy to be around, so I don’t know why seeing him has brought my mood down.

“We were talking about how if I don’t take this stupid class, I’m not gonna graduate.” Emerson catches Damon up as we join him and sit down. “It sounds like they’re gonna be teaching us common sense or shit we’ll never actually need.”

“Well if you go into it in that mindset, you’re setting yourself up for failure.” I counter.

“I don’t even know how I’m gonna pay for this year.” Damon admits. “I’ve been working at the venue like crazy and I’m still doing unpaid internships. I don’t know how I’m supposed to start up my classes now either. There’s no way I’m gonna be able to fit 32 hours in so I might have to drop to part-time. I don’t even know if they’ll let me.” I only have about a month’s worth of internships left I need to do as a requirement. That’s something I’ll worry about later. I want to let myself adjust to the new year before I jump into everything headfirst.

“You pay tuition fully by yourself, right?” I ask. I feel bad for him. He works his ass off every day and is still living paycheck to paycheck. I’m grateful my parents are helping me out with tuition. My mother has been texting me all morning and I haven’t responded. She wants to know how my first class went. If I replied with ‘shit.’, I don’t think she’d be very satisfied, considering that she’s paying for it.

“All this work better get me a good position in my career.” Damon worries. “I want to graduate already, get a job managing some band from the area.”

“You’ll get it.” I assure him. And that’s not a lie. If anyone deserves their dream job, it’s him. My responses are a bit careless at the moment though. I can’t fully focus on him because of how tired I am. I’ve been staring at Emerson the whole time. It wasn’t intentional- just the sleep deprivation. However, now that I’m already looking at him, I can’t help but realize that he appears very attentive when he’s listening. His downturned eyes are soft and welcoming. He offers a gentle gaze.

“Has college hit you yet or are you still sane for now?” Damon snatches what is left of my attention back.

“I just don’t know what to do for my senior project.” I say, and then I feel kinda shitty for complaining about something so minuscule in comparison to Damon’s situation.

“I’m gonna see if I can get you some photo passes for shows at the venue.” Damon says.

“Thanks, but I don’t like shooting concerts. Not my setting.”

“Take what you can get. Try it.” I don’t want to. It’s not my style. It doesn’t speak to me as it should, so I’m not gonna waste my time on it. My focus starts to float back to Emerson because I notice he hasn’t spoken in a while. Before, I could tell he was listening to Damon, but now, I don’t know where he’s at. It’s not here, that’s for sure. We’re both tired. How Damon isn’t drifting off with us, I don’t know.