Dawn did not rid the Wellton campus of the mist. Standing up from my bed and walking over to the window, I looked over at the school. It was already 10:30 and students were walking like zombies from class to class. It made me want to laugh but the growling of my stomach stopped me. I hardly had eaten anything the night before and desperately wanted something to stop my stomach from complaining.
After washing and getting dressed I decided to go downstairs to find out if they had anything fit for human consumption around.
I found my pedal pushers at the bottom of my suitcase and decided to be scandalous and wear them. They were more comfortable anyway. Grandmother found them dreadfully indecent, along with the shirt I chose. It reminded her of a loose woman being a deep red, with pearl buttons down the front, but it didn't bother me much. Pulling on my white sneakers, I threw my coat on and made my way downstairs.
I found the lobby quite deserted and decided to go outside for a walk, since the fog was quite appealing. I always liked the fog. There was something about its presence that reminded me of God, everywhere and almost invisible; omnipresent. The dampness of it made me forget my hunger and urged me to walk on. I came to a footbridge, overlooking a quiet stream, ambitiously racing toward a river.
The sun then began to break the cloud cover, making runs of gold and red in the overcast sky, staining the water like blood. I watched as the mist seemed to die, and slip between my fingers. The autumn sun was claiming one last battle against the approaching winter that would kill the waking world in a few months time.
Nothing gold can stay
A quote from Robert Frost.
It filtered through my mind like the light through the dampness, the warmth through the dark. It made me think of winter differently and of death. It's strange how thoughts from another person, another time, could enter into the musings of different being ten, twenty years after those reflections were first birthed. If I could have that kind of influence, I could do anything.
I looked at my watch, 11:30. They would be breaking for lunch soon. Gathering up my defenses which the sun had worn down, I headed back to the campus.
I reached the guest house just as the students had been let out for lunch. The sun had completely taken over the sky by now and I carried my coat with me, not needing it anymore. I found Neil waiting inside the lobby for me as I entered. He didn't notice me and seemed very much caught up in something he was reading.
"What are you looking at?" I asked as I approached him.
He looked up and gave me a grin than closed the book, "Midsummer Night's Dream."
"Ah, what fools these mortals be," I quoted returning the smile.
"You know it?"
"Do I know it? Of all the Shakespearean plays out there, it's the only one I can read multiple times." I explained, "Last summer I was in a production of it."
"Really?" He asked, "You act?"
"I try to," I answered sitting down next to him on the couch, "The director thought I could, so I got the part."
"Who did you play?"
"Helena, my favorite character." I replied.
"Puck's my favorite." He countered, tossing the book in his hands, "In fact I was going to return this today, at the library, while we're on lunch break."
"Well then let's be off," I said as we stood and walked toward the door.
The library was in another section of the building, almost completely separate. It was an old ivy ridden brick fossil, filled with whispers and dust. It was humongous inside; so many books littered the rows and rows of shelves. I don't know why it touched me, but it made me want to cry. Maybe it was because T.C didn't have this big of a library, or maybe because father didn't keep many books at home. Either way I felt as though I had died and gone to heaven. I guess Neil could sense that.
"Oh my," I breathed, as I ran my fingers down the leather bindings.
"You like to read?" He inquired, jarring me from my awe and happiness.
"I love to, the classics, mystery, fiction, even romance once and a while." My fingers stopped at a copy of Robert Frost's collected works. I drew my breath in sharply, "And I love poetry, especially Robert Frost."
I pulled out the copy carefully, as if afraid to hurt it. Dust whirled as I separated the pages, a crinkling sound ensuing. Obviously this volume had not been touched for a while. Running my fingers down the black lettered words, I found my longest and most trusted friends.
".and further still at an unearthly height, one luminary clock against the sky, proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right, I have been one acquainted with the night."
How I loved those passages and kept them in my mouth as long as possible. Neil's voice brought me out of my trance.
"…two roads diverged in a wood, and I - I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." Neil quoted.
He surprised me. The way he said the words, as if he felt the same love for the letters as I did. I turned to him, still holding the book.
"The Road Not Taken," I grinned, "Do you read much poetry?"
"Yes, quite a lot lately. Frost is a favorite of mine too, but 'The Road Not Taken' isn't my top choice." He said, and took the book from my hands.
"Here," He continued after flipping through the volume a little, "This one,"
I looked over onto the page and found the poem.
"Oh," I said quietly, touching the page, "It is mine as well,"
Neil closed the book and started to quote the poem. I joined in, knowing every word.
"…when stiff and sore and scarred, I take away my hand from leaning on it hard in grass and sand, the hurt is not enough: I long for weight and strength, to feel the earth as rough to all my length." We said our voices in a whispered chorus as not to bring the wrath of the librarian upon us.
"To Earthward," I said, "It's probably the best poem of his, in my opinion."
"Definitely," He said, still looking at me, eyes connecting in a single human moment, finding companionship.
I looked down, breaking the spell, and we stood shuffling awkwardly for a few minutes. The bell rang, signifying the return of all the students to the next session.
"Well, I guess you'd better be heading back to class," I said.
"Yah, hey are you going to take this out?" He asked, handing me the dusty tome.
"Oh of course," I said, cradling the book close to my chest.
"Well, are we going to see you tonight at dinner?"
I began to walk up to the librarian's desk, "I guess so, if I'm welcome,"
"Of course," He said, a little too loudly, earning a look from the stern looking gentleman at the desk, "Hello Mr. Cummings,"
The stony cover of the old man soon broke and a smile ruptured across his mouth, "Hello Neil, you're going to be late if you don't get a move on,"
"Yes, Mr. Cummings," He replied, smiling, "So I'll see you tonight?"
"Maybe," I replied with a smile.
Neil took that answer and with a last farewell nod, ran out the library door as quickly as possible.
"Nice boy, that Mr. Perry," The older librarian said, stamping the volume for me.
"Yes," I said under my breath, watching him race to the school in long strides.
It seemed to me that there was more to Neil Perry than what I had thought.