Chapter 2
Brand New Day - Boiling Point
Cruising the quiet back country roads of Western Pennsylvania in my recently purchased jacked-up Wrangler, I do my best to fight the persistent thoughts of Chelsea from only three weeks ago. Her words still resonate in my mind; her presence still lingers like a ghost. I’ve done my fair share of crying, and blaming, and obsessing. But I’m past it for now, or so I like to think. The armor holds for only so long. I know that better than anyone.
But I also know I’m ready for a fresh start; of that, I’m certain.
Taking in the farms and quiet countryside, I wonder why and how I even chose Buchanan State University. It’s named after an inconsequential president no one’s ever heard of, for Chrissake, in a part of the country I’ve never been to before. But after being dumped, and needing to figure out my next steps, I had to make a choice. BSU has what I needed; far enough from DC to escape the thoughts of Chelsea, and far enough from Florida to keep my childhood in the rearview.
Out of all the colleges and campuses I’ve researched, this place has everything else I was looking for, after spending three years in metropolitan DC; beautiful woods, rolling hills, and a tranquility only found this far from the city. Being from the damn swamp practically, and living as country a life as I did growing up, DC was always completely foreign to me. No way was I going back there, and no way was I going back home; not after the way things went down before leaving for basic. In my eyes, I have no family, and no friends outside of the fellow soldiers I’ve met along the way, so home isn’t home anymore. Maybe that’s why I ended up at Buchanan State after all… it’s the farthest college from Florida that accepted me.
As I drive, the wind funneling past me and rustling the thick beard a medical retirement has allowed me to grow, I hope it’s not a mistake to attend a school where I know no one. I worry that I may have acted impulsively after Chelsea dumped me; the anxiety of such a decision being made on a whim is suffocating now, in hindsight.
In the beginning, when my medical discharge was finalizing, the idea of going somewhere new, somewhere where no one knew me, seemed like a damn good idea. The only good one, really. I wanted to start a new chapter in my life; to find my new normal. So, with that in mind, I applied to schools as far north as Binghamton and as far south as Clemson, and everywhere in between, trailing the Appalachians and all its beautiful glory. Now, as I drive up on Main Street, in the quaint town of Crescent Falls, home of Buchanan State, a constricting wave of nervousness charges up from my gut to my throat. I’m so used to pushing past these bouts of numbing anxiety that it’s been hard to accept that maybe they’ve gotten worse; so much harder to ignore.
Do I have the strength to do this on my own?
I scoff, shaking my head as I eye myself in the rearview; annoyed that I’ve let this new chapter be soiled so soon. Forcing the doubts and anxiety back, I think about what’s to come; the excitement of a new life.
Forcing a smile, I locate my new apartment complex just past the main road, bordering the college buildings and dormitories. I take a moment to admire the beautiful Crescent Mountains serving as a backdrop for this area.
Having set everything up online ahead of time, it takes only a few minutes in the leasing office to sign all the paperwork and grab my keys. I drive around the winding complex roads, looking for Building E, while taking in what will be home for the next six months, at least. Every building looks the same—brick foundation leading to a dreary pale blue siding—like some suburbia nightmare, and the parking lot is a testament to social class discrepancies; cars that look to be running on hope and prayer alone share the lot with Beamers, and F-250s, lifted so high you wonder if Shaq might have one just like it. I guess I’m adding to that discrepancy with my Wrangler, but hell, I earned it. It’s the vehicle I’ve always wanted, and after getting blown up, I handed over every dime I made during my last deployment to get it. I refuse to feel bad about it.
Finally, spotting Building E and pulling into a parking space, I laugh aloud as I notice the trash bins, even this early in the semester, are filled to the brim with empty Busch boxes and an equal number of fast food refuse. Hopping out of the Wrangler, I snatch my large duffle bag—the one that’s been with me since basic—from the back seat, and I shoulder it, closing the door behind me.
I take a deep breath, willing myself to feel better about all this as I head toward the front door.
I’ve managed to find a veteran roommate online, so I’m not as nervous signing up to live with a stranger as I might be otherwise. Having been in the Army, I’ve met my fair share of people. I’ve liked quite a few of them, loved a handful, and hated damn near most. I’m not holding my breath here, but I’d rather take my chances with a veteran than a civilian.
Entering the building, I look around for apartment E-6, spotting it down the hall, and make my way toward it. I open the door and pop my head in, finding a mostly barren living room—no TV—and cheap, particle board furniture I’d expect to find in a barracks room or hospital; not a fully furnished apartment.
I guess this is what ‘fully furnished’ means in a college town.
Stepping inside, I shut the door behind me, noticing one of the two rooms has the door closed, and an eruption of lights and sounds spill through the cracks. Periodically, a man’s voice yells out in frustration, followed by the sounds of plastic hitting wood.
Fucking gamers.
I shake my head as I make my way toward the open door across from his room and I flip on a light. The small room is sparse; just a twin bed, dresser, and desk. Tossing my bag onto the bed, I open it and begin unpacking, still taking in my surroundings. There’s a twenty-inch television on a dresser that looks like it was made in the 90’s.
Nodding toward the TV, as if were alive and breathing, I mutter, “I think you and me are gonna be fast friends.”
The anxiety inside me beckons as I stuff clothes into the dresser drawers, my thoughts interspersed with Chelsea, this new, strange environment, and the choking realization that I am no longer a soldier. I’m a civilian now.
And I’m doing this all on my own.