My dorm room at Bromwell didn't amount to much. It was about the size of my old room at home, maybe a little smaller. Excepting the fact that I shared it with someone. It seemed as though I was the first one to arrive, however.
I didn't have much to unpack, and I told Mom and Dad I didn't need any help doing so once all the heavy stuff was hauled up, so they left to tour the campus. I didn't bring much, just clothes, my computer, and an alarm clock. I really wasn't sure how much space I would be using, not to mention what kind of roommate I'd get. I'd spent the whole summer fretting over Daria that I didn't even consider rooming with a complete psychopath, or worse, a trust-fund smug blue blood.
"I don't think that urban legend about roommate death will get you off the hook." I thought. None of my family, Bromwell-educated or no, had ever told me stories about their roommates, so I assumed they merely lost contact after college.
"Hey, so I'm not the first to arrive." I heard a voice from the door. A young man, presumably my roommate, entered. He was taller then I was, with short blonde hair and muscular. He was probably an athlete. He came alone to his room much as I did.
"Hey there." He smiled at me. "My name's Alex. Alex Taylor. I'm a business major."
"Tom Sloane." I introduced, declining to mention my major. Who knew if I would stick with it. I noticed that he had the same first name as my grandfather, who came to Bromwell and told story after story. Off-kilter ones that made the more prudish members of my family blush, but I did enjoy them. Was that a bad sign?
"Sloane..." Alex trailed off as if he had heard that name before. I remained quiet for a minute.
"Isn't there a wing on the science building with that name?" He asked. That was indeed correct. For a second, I didn't know how to respond. If it had been before my trip here with Daria, I would have readily agreed. During the summer, I would have denied it.
Now, though, I think I knew what to say.
"I've heard that." I replied. "But it's got nothing to do with me." My delivery was about as flat as Daria's, but there wasn't the usual coldness that usually accompanied her voice. Alex didn't answer immediately.
"Good answer." Alex replied. "I knew I had heard it before, and I care surprisingly little about people's personal pasts. You have nothing to fear from me." I shrugged, and chuckled silently. This wouldn't be too bad, I thought. I returned to my unpacking.
It was easy to keep in contact with everyone. Even I didn't think cell phones would take off like they did, but sure enough, it seemed like everyone had one, and that included everyone I knew. Jane and I often spoke to each other, and Quinn, true to her word, called frequently. But Daria I heard very little from. She was having more trouble adjusting to college then I did, which didn't surprise me. Daria viewed college merely as a continuing education, and I had looked forward to freedom. But we spoke or wrote e-mails frequently, talking about our lives. I never asked about boyfriends, and neither did she ask about girlfriends, not that I had any to brag about: I avoided any sort of romantic entanglement; I wasn't ready for that again.
I didn't see Daria again until October. Jane and I had arranged for me to come to Boston so that I could help her move into BFAC and celebrate. Besides being Jane's move in day, my birthday was a week away. When I got off of the bus from New Town, Daria was waiting for me, just like we arranged. She looked the same as ever, not that I expected an address change would alter Daria's looks.
"You look well." I noted.
"And so do you." Daria led me to BFAC. Jane hadn't arrived yet, but we knew where she would drive up too, and we could handle the rest.
"How is Bromwell?" Daria asked, a question she never asked me before. We kept tabs on each other's lives, but we never asked questions about our institutions.
"It's not too bad. The professors are smart but stuffy, the students are bored and trust-fund types, and I'm pretty sure some students got in through blackmail." I chuckled. I avoided any mention of legacy, although, for the life of me, I was pretty sure some of the students only got in for that.
"And Raft?"
"It's not really challenging, but the lessons are interesting, assuming the teacher's can stay on topic and avoid preaching their political opinion."
"Your in the English department, it's known for that." I reminded.
"The students are drunk and obnoxious, although thankfully, my roommate goes over to their places to party." Daria furthered.
"Does she call you her cabana girl?" I teased. Daria got a small smile.
"But other then that I think I'm benefiting from it." Daria finished, not answering the question I wanted to ask.
"Any...err...boyfriends." I wanted to avoid the use of the word boyfriend, it sounded so silly and trite, like high school flames. But I knew the word 'lover' would make Daria more uncomfortable.
"Scared, are you?" Daria smelled weakness, and preyed upon it.
"I'm just asking. It's all a part of keeping track of each others lives." Daria seemed to accept my answer.
"No." She replied. "There isn't anyone that interests me. I have met some good people who drag my unwilling ass to parties, and some of them are men, but that's about it." Daria's delivery was flat, and I had no reason to expect differently. I felt a little flattered, I did interest her.
"Was it the answer you were hoping for?" Daria asked, not as a challenge, but as a genuine query.
"Yes." I answered truthfully. "Because it is your decision." Daria seemed a little surprised by my reaction. We sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment longer, watching the road for signs of Jane.
"And what about you, Tom?" Daria posed. "Do you have a...uh..." Daria hesitated, which didn't happen often.
"Girlfriend? Amour? Passionate sweaty affair?" I teased.
"Tom..." Daria took on the tone that told me she wasn't amused.
"I haven't wanted one." I admitted. "I've thought about it, but honestly, there's no one there worth my time. After you and Jane, it would be a step down. Like going on generic medicine after having brand name." Daria blushed and tried to avert her gaze so that I wouldn't see her embarrassed.
"Hey, I think I see Jane." Daria pointed, eager to change the conversation. Sure enough, her car started coming up towards us.
"Long time no see." Jane came up and hugged us both. "Now come on, carry-slaves, we've got work to do."
BFAC's dorms were so much nicer then ours. It's small size and extremely high standards seemed to entail getting artist-style lofts much like the ones in New York. And Jane had it all to herself.
"I want one of these. My roommate's pretty cool, but the idea of free space and not sharing it is attractive. At least it is when you consider all the vile things someone can do to you while you sleep." I commented. Jane didn't bring most of her art to BFAC with her, which didn't surprise me. Jane was a creature governed by her passions, and such passions rarely lasted. But I was still proud of the pieces she did bring.
"And to think to get all this required a summer of suffering and worry." Jane noted.
"Come on, I'm hungry, and you're unpacked. Let's get eating." I directed. Daria seemed to agree.
"So, Tom, are your parents coming up for your birthday?" Jane asked me once we took a seat at Daria's favorite pizza place.
"Jane, you bailed me out of my last two birthdays, remember." I reminded. "I strongly doubt it."
"Yeah, wouldn't want a silly family event to get in the way of investment banking and country club mixers." Daria commented. I thought she was being a little harsh, but I let it go. Both of my parents made it a point to call. From what I learned, home was much the same as always, although it seemed as though Elsie was doing a little better in school. Because of not being on the drugs, or the extra attention, was a question that came to my mind often. But she was making progress, and that was important to me.
"And speaking of birthdays, here Tom, it's my present." Jane handed me a small rectangular package wrapped in brown paper, about the size of my forearm.
"Open it now, you lug." She prodded. I opened it, and saw my mind flashing back to a few months ago. Staring back at me was the picture Quinn's friend had taken at the pizza place. I never knew where the picture went, but it seemed Jane had somehow gotten the copy, and turned film into canvas. I saw Trent's slight smirk, Daria's Mona Lisa smile, Jane's look of satisfaction, Quinn's eager happiness, and my own face. Jane had painted me before as a vision of loneliness and despair. In the painting, though, I looked pleased. My face was no longer thin, there was a slight sparkle to my eyes, and there was a very subtle smile, the smile I only smiled when I was content.
"It's a good picture." I kept my true feelings to myself. Even for those two, my thoughts were too personal.
"And now I've got to try and top that. Thanks a lot." Daria's cynical sarcasm brought me to reality.
Someone once told me that when there is a sense of finality lingering overhead, people become truer to themselves. I don't remember if it was someone famous or someone paraphrasing to pretend that, but it seemed true to me. My last summer in Lawndale was plagued with many things: doubt and misery driving me to hate everything, including myself, bringing myself face to face with the abyss, staring into it and seeing a monster called Tom. But I was able to accept him, and destroy him, letting go of what the universe took from me, and trying to heal the echoes of my heart. And I realized all those who helped me, get me through that one fateful summer. Without any of them, I might not have made it to Bromwell. And that's was something I could keep forever.
