Chapter 3
Bennett
ONE WOULD THINK AFTER months and months in the desert with limited air conditioning, I’d be used to the heat… but there was something about Texas heat that outranked all others in its level of severity. The one hundred degree temperatures—combined with the intense humidity—created nature’s very own sauna. It was impossible to even walk the short distance from the library to the counseling office without some major sweat rings. Oh well, at least I knew I wouldn’t be the only one.
“Well, from what I see here, everything’s in order.” I’d been sitting in the office of Mrs. Lillie Lowe, a short African-American woman with mahogany skin and hair slightly graying at her temples, for close to thirty minutes as she carefully combed through each one of the eight million forms I’d filled out since being accepted. Mrs. Lowe was my newly assigned academic advisor and the only soul I knew within a hundred-mile radius.
“All I need is for you to sign and date at the bottom here, and you’ll be all ready to go.” She handed me a black Bic pen and shuffled the papers in my direction with a soft smile. “And just in time, too. Classes start tomorrow, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I paused, pen hovering over where X marks the spot. “Hey, I’m sorry about all this.” I murmured, scrawling my name on the dotted line, finalizing this new path my life would take. “Nothing like waiting ‘til the last minute, huh?” I tried to smile as I handed the form back, partly to charm the old woman in front of me, and partly to curb the growing dread in my stomach.
“Why psychology, may I ask?”
That was a loaded question. Was it because I was a good listener? Yes, I was that. I’d proven it time and time again at Landstuhl. Helping soldiers work through anything from the death of a buddy, the loss of a limb, to survivor’s guilt… I was the guy they came to between mandated appointments with their assigned shrinks.
They said talking about all their crap with a friend was easier on their pride. I was approachable, not clinical. I had no official say in anything, so they felt comfortable opening up, like two friends meeting for a beer at the neighborhood bar. It got to the point where the counselors, psychiatrists, and I would work together on particularly difficult cases. They said I had a gift. I say I was just using the problems of others to mask my own. Either way, it brought me here.
“I want to better understand the human mind.” It was a BS answer, but until I knew her better that was all she was getting. Her smile said it was enough. For now.
Because I’d decided to try my hand at college only recently, and this poor woman drew the short straw, I allowed her a limited amount of time to get everything in order. Honestly, she must have some hidden magic wand because I was shocked when she said I wouldn’t have to sit out this semester. She’d been a saint through the process of selecting a path, registering for classes… not to mention holding my hand through the financial aid process. I was attending Texas A&M University on the GI Bill, which meant dealing with the military. That was no easy task.
“Mrs. Lowe, I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.” I sat back in the uncomfortable maroon leather chair, one of two that sat in the too small, ground floor office. It was a spot I’d occupied many times since arriving in College Station only a week before. The day after I had things squared away at the ranch I’d just sunk my entire life savings into, I was college-bound.
I’d chosen Texas A&M for two reasons. One, it’s where Doc, my foster father, was an Aggie. He graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Animal Husbandry back in the sixties and it was Doc who told me college was even an option. He believed in me, had no problem saying so, and I was ready to make him proud. Second, it was the only college in which I was accepted. Since they wanted me, I wanted them.
Mrs. Lowe stood and walked out from behind her hulking desk to stand by the window. Looking out, I saw what caught her attention; a pair of squirrels chased each other up and down one of the large oak trees shading much of the campus.
“I usually don’t share much about myself with my students, Mr. Hanson, but I feel like today might be a good day to change that.” I stood and moved closer to her. She’d spent an exponential amount of time on me the last several days, the least I could do was give the woman my complete and undivided attention.
“I had a son who would be about your age right now. He was in the army and was one of the first casualties of Operation Desert Shield. Bridge bombing. Wrong place, wrong time, I guess.” She shrugged her narrow shoulders. The range of emotions crossing her face as she spoke said she was probably reconstructing what happened over there, a dangerous and unproductive train of thought for soldiers and their families. Imaginations could be a powerful weapon, especially when used to attack ourselves.
She sighed deep, letting the air out slowly, saying goodbye to her memories and coming back to the present. “I usually handle the end of the alphabet, but when your case popped up, I asked for it.” Her arms were wrapped tight across her chest and she appeared to be talking to the squirrels. She shrugged again, and turned to face me, taking another deep breath. “There wasn’t much I could do to help my son, Bennett, but I can help you.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss, ma’am.” I sat back down. Keeping my eyes on her, she settled herself in the chair next to me.
“I am, too. Believe me.” She smiled with the lower half of her face, but in her eyes lived a sadness I hadn’t noticed before. “A minute ago, you mentioned thanking me.”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, work hard, study, make good grades. Then, go out into the world and make a difference. Do the things my son will never have the opportunity to do. That’s all the thanks I need.” I handed her a tissue from the box on her desk and she dashed away the few tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I can do that, Mrs. Lowe.” I stood and she followed, collecting the papers with my schedule and other important pieces of information. Sliding them into a manila file folder, she pressed it into my hands.
“Any luck with finding an apartment yet? I noticed we’re still using your campus PO Box as your residence, but I’ll need to replace it with a physical address soon.”
I shook my head, keeping it down. “No, ma’am. Not yet, but I’m working on it.” But was I? No, not really. I hadn’t let myself believe any of this was actually happening until this very moment. It was only when I saw my full name at the top of an actual academic schedule I finally realized I would have a reason to stay in town.
“Bennett, do you need help? I could—“
“No, ma’am, finding a place to rest my head is now my number one priority. I’ll get on it right away.”
“Well, okay then… ” She didn’t believe me, that much was clear. “Here,” She grabbed a card from her desk and shoved it into my hand. One side was a map. On the other, an address. “And grab a few of those apples from the basket on the way out. You’re hungry. Don’t think I didn’t hear that stomach of yours rumbling. I had to look out the window to see if a storm was rolling in, it was so loud.”
I laughed. It felt good to have someone fussing over me again. After four years in the army, Lillie Lowe’s deep, warm voice was a nice change from the clipped, dry communication style of the military. She reminded me of Doc’s wife.
Foster care made me feel invisible, like I wasn’t even worth looking at. But once I landed at the ranch, everything changed. Rosie, my foster mom, fussed something awful… but even with all the eye-rolling attitude I handed her for it, she knew I loved her as much as she loved me. She and Doc always knew exactly what I needed and in the three years I was placed with them, I thrived.
“I’ll see you soon, then?” I nodded as she opened the door and ushered me out into the small, stuffy lobby. It was packed, students filling every chair and most of the floor space. Were they all waiting to see her? I did not envy that woman, but I had faith she’d handle it all with grace.
“Go to the first floor circulation desk at the main library. My husband is in charge over there. He can help you find books to get you started and I expect you to check in with me toward the end of the week, you hear?” I wanted to reply, Yes, Mom, but held my tongue, given the sad story she’d just shared.
“Miss Walker, come on in.” She was signaling to someone over my shoulder, already moving on to the next fire she had to extinguish. As I grabbed a few apples, shoving them into the pockets of my cargo pants, before grabbing a few more, a beautiful blonde brushed past me and into Mrs. Lowe’s office.
The air surrounding her smelled like vanilla and girl. She plopped down in the seat I’d just vacated, but not before giving me a pinched face glare, making it clear I couldn’t even afford to breathe her vanilla-scented air. I shrugged, taking a noisy bite of a green apple, as I set out for the library.