The car moved down the bumpy road in a suitable manner. Suitable because it dampened just enough to check the occupant’s annoyance with the half hour journey. No lights illuminated the road but the black chasm overhead contained countless stars.
Far from the city, four college freshmen hauled down a back road. Their cares were limited to what song was currently blaring, who had gum, and if enough beers remained to get them to their destination.
Maple, willow oak, and plain oak lined both sides of the road in splotches. One of the occupants, Samantha, slid deep in her seat and tossed her head back into the headrest at an angle. Above, the bare branches sliced a full moon in quick succession, the journey a straw stop motion picture.
“Do you think he’s gonna be there?” she asked.
“Listen Sam. You need to stop worrying about it, really. He’s only in town for a week and you’ll only see him tonight, c’mon,” replied a female occupant in the passenger seat.
One of the boys sighed irreverently, but she didn’t notice in the slightest. Overhead the moon waned and slipped from the side window frame. Samantha craned her slender neck over the rest and peered upwards through the hatchbacks angled trunk window. There the moon lay at the top of her vision, constant and unobstructed by any branches.
She drank in the pocked foam surface. Though the car pitched and careened, she pressed her head tight until the image stabilized. She took a moment to reflect on the present. It was their first winter break of college and all were oblivious to the eventual dissolution of childhood friendships. The present journey was to a farmhouse that several peers who attended the local college were house sitting. Her aim was to bump into and at least flirt with an acquaintance she had known briefly in high school before he moved to an exclusive prep school.
The moment held immeasurable promise. Everyone she cared for presently was either in the car or at her destination. Her soul welled until she was convinced she could transcend the glass and alight amongst the heavens. The moon shimmered in acknowledgment.
The car approached the Victorian manor from a gravel driveway. Its windows were draped in black curtains and white Christmas candles gave it a grand, deep appearance. The owners were a retired couple that had two grown daughters and several dogs. Samantha had recognized the last name from high school sports memorabilia.
Strategically parking as to not block any other cars, they quickly disembarked and rang a side doorbell. An external corner light held their warm breath aloft in the frigid night. Through the haze Samantha could make out a close shoreline and hear water gently lapping against breakwater. Although she was a country girl at heart, her semester in the city had lent her break a surreal gloss.
“Oh. My. God,” shrieked her best friend Tina flinging open the door. They embraced in a wide legged stance rocking side to side carelessly.
Samantha pulled away and took in the home. Several red velvet couches ringed a white stone fireplace. A pair of golden retrievers scampered underfoot of people gathered at the kitchen island drinking.
After shedding her coat and helping herself to a drink, she settled amongst her friends dispensing and sharing epic tales of a new life away from home. At some point amidst a drinking game, she saddled up next to the acquaintance.
“Ben, right?” she asked. She framed the question upwards through lashes.
“Yea….. Samantha? Wow it’s been years. I think the last time I saw you, we were on the river.”
She nodded and studied him. He had grown into his lanky frame and his hair was longer than she recalled. Dark curls hung loosely about his brow, framing hazel eyes. She felt suddenly short of words and breath.
They monopolized each other's time for a while before he proposed a question.
“Do you wanna get high? No big deal if not, I just thought you might like to.” She hadn’t smoked in high school but had a few times in college and was beginning to enjoy it.
“Sure. I’d love to,” she replied. She meant it in earnest but she also wanted to seem agreeable. Besides, he had broached the subject with such confidence she had to accept. They went outside to the brick stoop and shared a small pipe. Since much had already been discussed, they spent the majority of the time staring off into the night in different directions. Their breath formed fast moving cumulus clouds in the light cutting through the slower cirrus pipe smoke.
Wordlessly they reentered the house. Samantha donning a slightly guilty smirk as she mixed herself another drink.
“Someone seems to be hitting it off quite well. And that perfume…yes I’d say quite well,” Tina offered. “C’mon. Let’s go to the bathroom upstairs and chat.” The two bounded up the carpeted hardwood staircase drinks in hand.
“I think that you two would be a good couple Sam. Really I do,” Tina stated while she applied more mascara.
“You think? I mean we do have some things in common, but the Midwest is awfully far away for weekend visits.” She realized the absurdity of her comment.
“Jesus Sam. You’re getting way ahead of yourself. Just have a good time tonight. See where things go. You shouldn’t get high, it makes you too sensible. See ya downstairs,” she said as she squeezed her shoulder.
Samantha closed her clutch and glanced impartially at the wallpaper. Small aquatic creatures, mostly seahorse, were frozen in an off-white sea. She reasoned that this must be the children’s bathroom for the low doorknob height and lack of toiletries.
Instead of going directly downstairs via the hallway, she absconded through the connecting room, which she discovered to be a bedroom. She flicked on the light revealing red walls complete with an alcove and recessed lighting. Casually she glanced at some middle school portraits. One in particular had her in near hysterics. A midnight blue metallic background played host to permed hair, oversized plastic glasses and bandless braces.
She moved down the line and witnessed the progression from awkwardness to beauty. Like the daughter, Samantha was graced with high cheekbones and olive skin. She felt slightly voyeuristic but compelled to stay.
Gracing the alcove’s built in shelf was a series of varsity letters and newspaper clippings. She scanned them. Samantha had been a stand out field hockey player in high school, but this girl was highly touted and had landed a DI scholarship. The clippings had progressed from yellow and the edges were beginning to rust. When she touched them, dust and pulp formed a singular grit.
She gradually became aware of the rooms imperfections. The window screen was frayed and loose in one corner, a cobweb strung across the ceiling light fixture. In the corners of the alcove and on its shelves myriad ladybugs lay belly up, their nail polish red forever censored.
It occurred to Samantha that the parents had little use for this room anymore. The pictures in the living room were of freshly minted families, another generation; the most recent photographs in this room were of high school. She suddenly felt profound loss and confusion. She knew she would return one day to her own room and find it in this state of disrepair and disuse. It was as if her life had flashed before her and then she had moved on unwillingly. She wanted to freeze herself in a candid newspaper shot, her being fashioned of crumbling sepia.
Samantha returned to the kitchen to a thinned gathering. She mixed herself another drink for solace and inquired to Tina about Ben’s whereabouts.
“Sam, you were up there for like an hour. He left ten minutes ago. Got bored, I guess.”
That seemed a small tragedy to her. She settled in with the rhythm of the conversation, her mind never committing. It wasn’t that her friends were less pertinent; she felt she had discovered something unheralded. Unsure of herself she coasted, wondering when, not if, the surreal gloss of home would set.
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