I was so damn tired of talking to all these doctors. Don't get me wrong. It was a nice change to finally talk to someone. It really was. I just couldn't stand having to talk while the doctors took notes. The whole process made everything I talked about sound so phony. I mean these guys sat there and pretended to listen to me, nodding their heads ever so often. They were just there because they were paid to be there. That really depressed me. I had to pay for company.
Anyways after all those doctor sessions, I had to go back to school. I mean naturally I knew this. After flunking out of Pencey my parents practically hit the ceiling. I mean boy were they so goddamn sore. I guess I don't blame them. I really must be a royal pain in their ass, being that I'm the only dumb kid in the family and all.
So, they told me I had to try in school. They said if I wanted to be something and feel better about myself, I had to try. They chewed at it forever. I swear they talked for so goddamn long that I could've been dead already. I hate when they go off like that, talking so goddamn long about committing myself. I mean if I feel like it I will.
Before I left for my new school Baylor Prep, I was feeling kind of sad. I didn't care about leaving the hospital. I was actually so goddamn relieved to get out of that place. I just wasn't ready to leave old Phoebe.
While I was at the hospital Phoebe was the one person I was happy to see. Everyday after school, old Phoebe would tell me about her day. It was nice to hear someone else's problems for a change. They were kid problems of course. Like Phoebe once told me about how her friend Sarah had stolen her favorite crayons. I got a kick out of that one. One day she was so goddamn upset about her stupid crayons and that she would never talk to this Sarah girl again. Then the next day she would say how she and Sarah were best friends again.
When Phoebe would come to talk to me, she would wear those real nice outfits my mom always had her in and my red hunting hat. A while ago I told Old Phoebe to keep that hat and she did. Old Phoebe never took it off. I remember the first night I got out of the hospital and I went to D.B.'s room. I knew she would be in there. Old Phoebe was asleep. She was wearing my red hunting hat and she was sort of smiling. God I wish you could've been there. She looked so goddamn happy. It killed me.
Anyways, the day I left for Baylor Prep I took the train. The train wasn't supposed to leave until another 20 minutes, so I decided that I would kill some time. I stood against a wall and smoked a cigarette. God was I so damn nervous. I mean I never felt so goddamn nervous for school and all, but for some reason this time was different.
When I was smoking and all I noticed that this lady was sitting on a bench across from me reading. She had this long, bright fiery red hair. She was looking down so I couldn't see all of her face but I could tell she had these thick glasses on. She looked really intellectual. Unlike most people, I could tell she was someone who you could actually have a real conversation with.
When I looked at her head it made me so damn happy. On the top of her head she wore this bright, blue hat. It was an interesting kind of hat if I do say so myself. It was really fuzzy with these flaps that came over the ears. It didn't seem like most ladies would wear that kind of stuff. I guess she got it just to keep her warm.
It was quiet the hat, it really was.
Anyways so that lady with that fuzzy blue hat was just sitting there reading. I didn't know what she was reading, but I could tell she was really into her book. She never took her eyes off of it. Even though she had that hat on it didn't seem to help much. She must have been sitting there for a while because she was sort of shaking. It was really cold outside but she just sat there reading. I mean it was sort of nice to watch. You know what I mean? It's nice to see a person really into a book and not caring how cold it is outside. I swear if it wasn't time to leave for the train I would've talked to her, but I had to go.
When I got on the train I bought another one of those dumb magazines. I just sat there reading. There was this one story about this guy who once was a nobody who eventually became a somebody. I don't know. It was something like that. The story goes that this guy worked as a bartender. Every day he would sleep for hours and then at night he would go to work and just sit there pouring people's goddamn drinks. What a life right? So anyways, one night one of the club's singers was sick and the owner couldn't find any replacement. This owner was really upset and all. He was going to have to close down the club and he really needed the money. So this bartender who was said to be a hero or something offered to sing for the guy. Supposedly this bartender was pretty good and it so happened that that very night this big time recording producer came in for a drink. The story ended with the bartender leaving his job and becoming a singer. It says that this guy is now filthy rich and is a hot shot who has sold millions of records.
Boy did I get a bang out of that. I almost puked for Chrissake. I mean if that guy was really good then he would have stayed at that club and just sing for the fun of it. But of course he had to get all high and mighty and go off to Hollywood to be something. I was feeling pretty depressed after that one. So I put away that dumb magazine. I couldn't stand reading another one of their goddamn stories.
When I looked around the train I felt even worse. The train was so damn crowded but that wasn't what bothered me. What really got me going was this lady sitting in the seat diagonal from me. It was that same lady reading on the bench. I knew it was. She wasn't wearing her glasses but she still had that bright, long fiery red hair. It made me kind of sad that she didn't wear those glasses. She didn't look all that intellectual anymore. I could tell it was her though, because sticking out of her coat pocket was that big, blue, fuzzy hat. The change in her appearance made me sad but what got me real hot was what she was saying to the guy next to her. There was nothing special about this guy. He had average short, brown hair on top of his average looking face. Other than his hair there was nothing on his head. He wore nothing but his average looking clothes. He was just an average looking guy.
"So you like to read? I'm not much of a reader myself. I find books pretty boring", said the guy.
The lady looked down at the book that she was holding in her hands. I could tell she was embarrassed. She looked like she wanted to hide the book, stuffed away in her coat pocket just like her hat.
She looked up. "Oh this old thing? It's not mine, I'm holding it for a friend. I hate to read. I never read a book in my life." She smiled and tossed the book to the other side of the seat.
That really depressed me. She acted like the book was meaningless as hell. I thought back to the scene when she was on the bench, never tearing her eyes away from that book. I felt even more depressed. I reached in my own pocket and grimaced at how empty they were. I forgot that I gave Old Phoebe the red hunting hat. I felt so damn lonesome. Even though the train was crowded, I felt lonely as hell. I was cold, tired and worst of all my head felt bare.
For the first couple days at old Baylor Prep I didn't give a damn what I did. As the days progressed something happened that I can't explain. I mean I really can't explain it. Remember when I said that when I feel like trying in school then I will. Well I did. I guess that that hat lady really got to me. As much as I wish I could just hide behind the excuse that the world is phony, I can't. I still think the world is full of them, I really do. But I sort of realized that I shouldn't let them bother me. I mean that hat lady may have acted fake with that average guy, but I also got to see her real side. I don't know, but maybe some people in the world have two sides to them- real and phony. And when I get out of this damn school maybe I will find someone who has some sort of real side to them too.
I don't know what I will be one day but I do know that there is someone out there that has something real to them. I mean even Old Phoebe can be a pain sometimes.
She can be real snotty as hell. Though, it still doesn't mean she isn't real.