Chapter Sixteen A - Dreams Come True

When I was in elementary school, my parents and teachers all told me I could be anything I wanted when I grew up. One day in the fifth grade, we watched a presentation on astronauts. I had always wanted to be an astronaut. One of the things the presenter said was that all astronauts had to be 5'11" or smaller. I'd been to the pediatrician's office for a well child visit a few days before. They told me my projected adult height was just under 6'1".

That's when I learned something very important: no matter what anyone says, you can't have everything you want.

Several years later, my mom was driving me home from a friend's house. There's a big hill near my house, and we had to climb it. That particular time, there was a cyclist going up the hill. The guy was halfway up, moving as slowly as he could without the bike falling over. He must've weighed 300 pounds; he looked ridiculous.

Mom and I laughed as we passed, and I looked back at him after he was behind us. That face was a mask of pure determination. He was going to climb that hill if it was the last thing he did.

I learned something else important on that day: you can't everything you want, but you can damn well try.

Fourteen hours after my termination of friendship with Chandler, I was walking Katalin home. The night was clear of rain, for once. I finally had an opportunity to put things to rest.

"Katalin, do you like The Damned?" I asked her.

"Not as much as I used to." she said. My stomach knotted at the noncommittal answer.

I wanted to believe that not everything Chandler had said was a lie. The only thing that kept me from dismissing the conversation altogether as him attacking a vulnerable spot was that his description of Katalin's reaction meshed with the one she'd given me, especially that part about me making out with some random girl, "So we'd be even." I had to know, once and for all.

"Have..." my voice faltered. It was exhausted. I tried again. "Have you ever referred to me as 'Saint Mark?'"

She giggled. "I wondered how long it would be before you heard about that."

I swallowed. So, that much was true.

To another abyss. I thought. I slid my hand out of my pocket and slipped it into her hand.

She didn't seize up, didn't let go, didn't squeeze more tightly. The gesture was just enough--not too forward, but enough to be clear in its intentions. It felt...right. I exhaled.

"No, it's fine." she said, misinterpretting my sigh of relief as one of frustration.

"Glad you agree." I said.

We walked in silence for a little while. She was the one to break it. "You know, maybe you should stay for awhile tonight."

"That's moving a little fast, isn't it?"

"Hey! I told you I'm not a whore, and I meant it. I just think we need to do some talking, is all."

"Yeah, I think we do." I said.

For two people who needed to talk, there were a lot of drawn-out silences on this walk. This time, I broke it. "So, just so there are no questions, does this mean we're more than just friends now?" Come to think of it, with Chandler out of the picture, Katalin was my best friend.

"Yeah, I'd say so."

*

Time passed, as it has a habit of doing. November gave way to December. As Chandler had promised, the omnipresent rain turned to snow. There were ten inches of the stuff on the ground when I wished Katalin a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year before reluctantly boarding my mother's minivan (the mid-life crisis was being garaged for the winter) and heading back home. In the intervening time, Katalin and I had grown closer and Thom had stepped up, proving to be twice the best friend Chandler had ever been.

In an event I felt bad laughing about, I finally found out what had sent William back to the room early and in such a sour mood the day he lost the battle of wits with Chandler. Apparently he'd been making advances on the RA of third floor A Tower--the one I wound up living down the hall from a short time later. She was a sophomore. She was a cute girl, but had a boyfriend and didn't strike me as the type cheat on him (and even she was, she could do better than William). Apparently she laughed him off at first, but told him to knock it off after she realized he was serious. He didn't quit, so she lodged a sexual harassment complaint with Residence Life.

That was why he'd been up all of the previous night. Apparently he'd had an oral presentation to give in class that day and been so blown away by the complaint that he'd forgotten to prepare for it. He asked the prof if he could get a drink of water before presenting, then bolted once he was in the hall. Which explains why he was so early and so stressed.

I got all this info straight from his blog. A disturbing read, if ever there was one. Perhaps the most shocking thing was that that sarcastic name I'd been calling him by behind his back, "Prince William," was how he actually referred to himself.

His take on my moving to third floor A was, "They deserve each other," referring to the RA and me, as if we had singled him out for suffering. But we got off light compared to Morgan. "That traitorous bitch," as he called her, had followed the lead of my RA after William unhooked her bra one night. When I heard about that one, I just shook my head. He deserved pity as much as hatred anymore; I don't think he could save himself now if he tried.

Perhaps the reason I was able to pity William was because I had stopped pitying myself. After all this time, I had finally succeeded in love. Somehow, the old wounds in my psyche were able to close at last.

I finally let myself remember her.

Her name wasn't If Only, it was Paige. Paige Duncan. She had light brown hair she dyed auburn. Her eyes were green. She had three earrings on one ear, seven on the other. She was 5'9", about 135 pounds with a figure to die for. Her favorite color was bright green. Her best friend was Tanya Eder, who lived two streets down from me. She had a pair of huge '80s sunglasses she wore year-round. She drove a gray 1993 Cutlass. She swore she wanted to be married by age 21.

And on May 30th, 2004, she got drunk and fucked a guy named Roger Turner. For the first time, I was okay with that.

Which is probably why I didn't keep driving this time. It was about six in the evening, early January, and I'd just left Derek's house (he had homework due the next day, his break being half as long as mine). This time, I saw her car in the drive and realized I hadn't spoken to her in person for nearly six months. I had never been one to drop in unannounced, but saw no harm in breaking that trend. Her car was the only one in the drive.

I rang the doorbell and waited, my skin prickling in anticipation. Would she look different? Had she gone ahead and gotten that tattoo she'd wanted since middle school but her father had forbidden?

The first question was answered the moment she opened the door.

"Hi, Mark!" she said. "What brings you here?"

"Hi, Paige. I was in the neighborhood, and I just thought I'd stop in and see how you've been doing." I'm surprised I didn't just say, "Oh my God, what have you done to yourself!?" upon laying eyes on her.

"It's cold out there, come on in." she said. I hung up my coat and sat across from her in the living room, trying not to stare.

She asked me about Allegheny. I told her just about everything, especially Katalin. That's when I noticed the ring on Paige's finger.

"Oh my God, is that what I think it is?" I asked, gesturing at her hand.

"I was wondering if you'd notice." she said. "Yes. I'm engaged."

"That's fantastic." I said. Taking another look at her, I really meant it--and I never thought that would happen. "Anyone I know?"

"Yes, actually." She smiled. "Do you remember Roger Turner?"

You guessed it. The thing that had caught me so aback about Paige Duncan, the girl who had so mangled my emotions that it hurt to think about her, was pregnant. Knocked up. With child. Judging by the bulge of her stomache, she was pretty far along.

About six months, in fact. Evidently my heart and Roger's condom had broken at the same time.

"I didn't know you two were an item." I said, the will of God Himself the only thing keeping my voice from cracking.

"We weren't, then the little one--" she caressed her bulging abdomen--"came along, and we decided we wanted to raise her right. Well, we don't actually know if it's a him or a her yet, but I think it's a girl."

"Well, when's the wedding?"

"June. We're going to wait until I can fit into my mother's wedding dress." She'd told me she wanted to wear it some day (I made a mental note that they'd probably have to let the top out a bit. Hm, apparently there were a few barbs left, after all). "You can come, if you want."

"I'll tell you what, Paige. If you send me an invite, I'll gladly make an appearance."

"I'll be sure to."

I glanced at the clock.

"Well, it's getting late, and I have to get up early for work tomorrow--" I worked at my dad's machine shop and hated every minute of it. Even that seemed preferable to watching the twisted wreckage of Paige's dreams come true. "--so I'd best be going."

"Okay. Nice seeing you, Mark."

"You too, Paige." I lied. It was only half into my coat before I was out the door. Cold be damned, chains couldn't have kept me there any longer.

Originally posted on January 18th, 2005