The First Day
Against all odds, I’m still alive and kicking. The cancer didn’t end up killing me, though Freshman year was a close call. But alas, here I am, wearing a sundress underneath my cap and gown, waiting in the student holding area flanked by Rowan on my left and Sheena on my right. My tribe.
“You ready for this, sugar?” Sheena asks, taking my clammy hand in hers and squeezing reassuringly.
“This is the easy part, right? We’ve done the exams, grades are in and can’t be changed, no more book vouchers, registration, study groups, and boring-ass labs. All we gotta do is walk across that stage and we’re done.”
“Then why are you shaking?” Rowan chuckles, inching closer to me, placing his palm on the small of my back and rubbing soft, soothing circles.
Better question is, why am I the only one feeling any kind of nerves? How the hell are these two the voices of reason and calm?
“Because,” I sigh, “I let Sheena dress me and chances are, I’m gonna faceplant. Who wears heels to graduation?”
“Oh my God, Charlie!” Sheena yells, and dozens of familiar faces turn in our direction, their eyes on the spectacle she’s making.
“What?” I whisper, desperate for her to take the cue to shut the entire hell up so the other graduates stop staring at us, or before they kick us out of line for being a bunch of assholes who ruin sacred traditions.
“The shoes were a suggestion, dude. High school graduation, do you remember? All you did the whole time was complain you had to wear flats since you weren’t steady on your feet yet. I was trying to help ya.”
Yeah, she’s right. I was just finishing chemo and was way too weak to wear anything other than ballet slippers to get my diploma. I barely walked to begin with, so I get her point, but hot damn, this is a mess right now.
“You did good, babe. I’m just nervous, that’s all. These peek-toe pumps are perfect and match my dress,” I offer, trying to assure her she didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t have to put them on—I made the choice myself.
“Perfect until you eat pavement,” she scoffs. “You got anything else in the car? I’ll run out there for you real quick?”
“Nope. Rowan cleaned out both our cars so we wouldn’t have to get a moving truck tomorrow. It’s bare-bones in there.” I don’t mention before his kind gesture, I had three pairs of Chucks in there for situations such as this …
And yep, after almost five years together, we finally signed a lease on an apartment the second Rowan was released from the athletic dorms last week. We get out keys in the morning! I just hope he agreed to move in with me instead of moving back home for us and not because my soulmate and best friend’s leaving for New York next week.
When Sheena declared journalism as her major, I thought she was insane and would end up working at some podunk paper close to home. But no, not my over-exaggerating Sheena. The girl, fresh out of college, landed herself a job at the New York Times writing book reviews. The big time! My heart soars knowing one day soon, there’s going to be an article in the most prestigious paper in the country with Sheena’s name in the byline. I couldn’t be more proud.
“Well, what are you gonna do then? I’m freaking out over here, dude.”
Poor Sheena. Before the cancer, she was full of bad ideas, poor intentions, and inappropriate actions. Now, I’m a china dish and she’s the bull, constantly thinking if she moves wrong, she’ll break me.
“First, we’re getting in line. We’re up and need to take our seats in the auditorium.” Reluctantly, she leads the way to the man handing out the alphabetically-ordered name cards, putting a few people between our tight-knit group. “Then, we’re goin’ out there so everyone can celebrate our day. I’m not sure what you’re planning on doing, but I’m gonna live up the last few minutes before the real world smacks us in the face.”
The people between Sheena and me nod along, agreeing with my amazing pep talk. Behind me, Rowan calls out, “You tell her, baby. It’s our day. Four grueling years and no more number-two pencils and scantron test sheets? We fuckin’ won!”
I laugh, Sheena cackles, a few “Woo pig sooies” come from the peanut gallery around the cramped room, and then we’re ushered to the auditorium.
I’m still in the tunnel when the hoots and hollers start—right along with my perma-smile. Nothing’s ever felt so empowering, all these people screaming for us—for me.
We’re the damn future. This. Is. It.
Woo. Pig. Sooie.
After taking our seats, it feels like hours go by—each speaker saying the same exact thing using different words. And finally, one by one, we’re called to the stage to shake forty-some-odd hands and receive a portfolio not encasing our actual degrees—pomp and circumstance.
My row rises and moves toward the stairs and my stomach flips. A few more minutes and I’m a real adult. Who thought that was a good idea? I couldn’t even keep my goldfish, Erica, alive … now I’m completely responsible for myself? With bills and grocery shopping? Oh Lord, help us now.
“Sheena Gene Ziegler,” the Dean calls, and she swiftly and gracefully manages the daunting set of stairs to the stage, where she exudes femininity and class. Asshole.
A half-dozen more people repeat her actions and then I hear it …
“Charlotte Antoinette Thompson.”
“Breathe, baby, you got this. I’m right behind you. One foot in front of the other,” Rowan reassures me a few graduates back.
I take his advice and begin inching forward. At the base of the first step, I make eye contact with the usher extending his hand to give me some assistance and shake my head.
“Nope. Not happening. Not today, Satan.”
“Charlie, you gotta go up there, baby. You have to move. You’re holding up the line.”
“Shhhh,” I harshly shush my handsome yet pushy boyfriend. “Do not rush me, Rowan. I need a second.”
He steps out of line and stands next to me. “Listen to me. You beat cancer. You didn’t gain the Freshman Fifteen. You have an honors chord around your neck. Get. Up. Those. Stairs. And get that damn degree you busted your ass for, Charlotte.”
Okay, he’s asking for it …
“Listen, bossy, I’m doing exactly that. Give me a fucking second.”
The Dean calls my name again and I shoot him a glare, not so nicely telling him I’ll be there when I fucking get there. Then, without a change in expression, I turn back to Rowan.
Like any true boss bitch, I kick off the heels and smile at the shocked and stunned usher. “It’s my damn day. I’m doing it my way.”
Before I move another inch, my eyes meet Rowan’s one last time before I’m a full-fledged grownup. “And honey, I did gain those dreaded fifteen pounds … went straight to my tits and ass. You’re fucking welcome.”
Taking the usher’s hand, I ascend to the stage, my bare feet slapping against the wooden planks. Shaking all the board members’, faculty, and finally the Dean’s hand— giving a few obligatory hugs in the process—I take my “degree” and thrust it to the sky as soon as Rowan’s name is called.
“Rowan Xavier Thorne.”
And there ya have it, folks; the trio’s accomplished their goals—all ready to embark on this world full of hope, pride, and excitement. Watch out, here we come!
Sheena’s headed for The Big Apple. Rowan got a job at Truman since the head coach retired and since Rowan did lead the team to the State Championships, he was first on their list of candidates. Then there’s me … doing exactly what I always wanted: Assistant Director of Morning Light Hospice Center.
I shouldn’t say always, more like when my life seemed like the end was closer than not. So many families are in need of that type of service, and there aren’t nearly enough people with compassion and patience to help the patients and their loved ones with that decision. Sure, I could’ve gone for my master’s and became a psychologist, or even used my bachelor’s to council … but I wanted this specific job.
And now, it’s time for us to start the next chapter—forever!
*****
“I really need the last of those boxes unpacked if we’re gonna have room for any of Sheena’s stuff,” Rowan calls from the bedroom while I make a few meals to prep us for the week.
I can’t imagine either of us be in the mood to cook after our first full week of adulting. And I’m trying to finish quickly. Sheena should be here soon—her final stop before she catches her flight to her new life.
My heart’s heavy but also full of joy. Basically, I’m a shit show of emotion. I don’t have any memories without Sheena, and tomorrow, the next part of my life starts … without her. And hers without me. Senior year, we barely saw each other with our hectic schedules, but now, with this extreme change, there won’t even be the opportunity to see each other or find fake reasons to stay in and rewatch Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix. This is the end of our run.
“I know, babe. I’ll be there in a few. I’m hoping she decides to take it with her or toss it in the dumpster,” I laugh. No way in hell she’s discarding anything she’s leaving here. The vast majority if her things are staying her parents’ house, but these few boxes … they’re all filled with stuff from high school she doesn’t want them knowing about.
Like the letters she kept from Jansen—the disgustingly disturbing letters. She won’t admit it, but I know the girl better than she knows herself. She’s holding out hope he’ll stop fucking her friends, realize he loves her, and she’ll have these memories from when they started dating to talk about when they’re old and gray. Fat fucking chance.
“Sooner rather than later, please, Charlie.”
“Yeah,” I drawl, “I’ll be in there in five. Keep your pants on, pushy. Or take a shower and calm down. You’re awfully excited about unpacking.”
No sooner than I finish the last dish, toss it in the fridge, and start walking to the bedroom to handle the boxes causing the crisis at hand, Sheena walks through the front door.
“Knock much?” I say with a smile, which she returns. The sadness in her eyes evident, and if I were looking in a mirror, I’m positive mine would be similar. How do you say goodbye to someone you’ve had your whole life?
“Oh my God, my parents are insane. Begged me a million times to stay. Literally begged me, Charlie. What’s that about? They’ve known for weeks I was leaving today. Why wait until I’m out the door to start the guilt trip?” she complains, but I know deep down she’s happy they love her enough to ask her to stay. And I also know that had they pushed a little harder, or if her mom had cried a little more, she would have given up her dream and never left … she’s that good of a person.
“So what you’re saying is I should just be quiet then? ‘Cause I had a similar plan.” I didn’t. I couldn’t do that to her. Because, again, she would have stayed.
“Do. Not. Start. With. Me.”
“Fine,” I sigh. “I won’t. But you gotta come help me unpack these boxes before Rowan blows a gasket.”
“Rowan? Angry? Four days of co-habitation and the honeymoon period’s already over? You’re not setting a good example for your terminally single best friend, Charlotte Thompson. Maybe I should stay. Work at The Gazette,” she teases, and I shake my head.
“Don’t you dare,” I laugh. “Just help me. I’m sure he’s just nervous. Coaching his old team’s a big deal. They’re putting a lot of pressure on him to pull off what he did senior year.”
“Alright, let’s do it. Exactly what I was hoping would happen when I came over. Nothing like getting sweaty with my girl before I board my plane.”
We walk back to the bedroom, giggling about her comment, and when I open the door, Rowan scurries off the bed and onto the floor … on one knee.
“Holy fuck,” Sheena whispers in shock. “Maybe I’ll just wait in the living room. Or outside. Or anywhere except here.” She starts to back out of the doorway when Rowan stops her.
“No, please stay. Just move over a little. I’d like to see my girl if ya don’t mind.”
“Uhhhh, if you’re sure?”
“Absolutely sure. No more talking, ‘kay?”
“Rowan, babe, what’s going on?” As I look around the room, I notice he’s taken every picture we have together out of the frames or albums and scattered them around—all over the bed, dresser, floor, window sill … literally everywhere.
“Charlotte Antoinette Thompson, I love you more than words and they say a picture’s worth a thousand of them, and I need all the help I can get to show you exactly how much I love you.”
“Holy shit, Charlie,” Sheena mutters again and nudges my arm, a giant grin plastered on her lips.
“Ya gotta be quiet, Sheena,” Rowan demands, his eyes never leaving mine.
“My bad. Keep going. But holy fucking shit.”
“Sheena,” I snap, “shut it. Now. Please.”
She makes a zipping-of-the-lips motion and scoots back to the wall, watching in awe right alongside me. This is a real holy shit moment if I’ve ever experienced one. She had that right.
“Anyway,” Rowan continues, quickly side-eyeing Sheena before returning his gaze to me, “we’ve been through so much, Charlie. Some parts beautiful, others not so much, and a few just downright ugly. But with you it was always just right … perfect. We’ve … you’ve … experienced the worst, been to hell and back, and baby, I wanna give you the best. And with tens of thousands of words in this room, reminding you of how exceptional we are together, I want to ask you a very important question and I’m gonna need an answer quick … or I might explode.”
I nod, unable to speak. There’s no possible way he’s going to ask me anything other than the obvious. As badly as I want to leap in his arms and accept, I have to let him finish … on the off chance he asks if I made spaghetti and then I look like a complete fool. There’s always another shoe.
“Charlie.” He pulls a box—a small, black, velvet box—from the pocket of his jeans and cracks the lid, exposing a gorgeous, diamond solitaire ring. “Will you do me the extreme honor of allowing me to be your husband?”
“Yes!” I scream, closing the gap between us in less than two seconds only to stop in front of my kneeling fiancé, my hand outstretched, waiting for him to put the ring on my finger … my very special, naked finger.
“I swear on everything, Charlie, I’ll live every day of my life to make you happy and give you your heart’s desires. If you want it, I’ll make it happen. If I can’t, I’ll find someone who can. My life belongs to you.”
He slips the band on my hand and I briefly forget Sheena’s here … until the blubbering mess starts blowing her nose on some tissue she found God knows where.
“I’m so happy for you guys,” she cries. “I knew it from the second you met you’d last forever.” She wipes away the tears on her cheeks. “But Rowan, you could have asked me to leave. This is y’all’s moment. I feel like I intruded on something so special I had no business being a part of.”
Rowan puts his arm around my shoulders and draws us closer together.
“You and my fiancée have been inseparable since the day I met Charlie. The closest best friends the world’s ever seen. I did this on purpose, planned it accordingly. I knew you were coming over and wanted you to be in this room. With you leaving, Charlie’s not happy, and this is news you shouldn’t tell your person over the phone or video call—it’s something you should see in person. You’re a huge part of our lives, and we would want you to be a part of this memory since you’re in every other one.”
Looking around at the pictures, I examine them further, and sure as hell, Sheena’s in more than three quarters of them.
I look up at my fiancé with tears and a grin of my own.
“You’re a rare breed, future husband. You’re my perfect.”