Chapter 2
The College Years
Hot and humid weather greeted my move into my college dorm. Florida, in the middle of August, had to have been more pleasant than this day. It was never this hot in Los Angeles, especially so close to the ocean. With ten stories and 381 rooms, I lived in one of the oldest dormitories on campus. It even required an old-fashioned key card to open up the heavy doors into this secured building. The usual meeting area and common rooms were all located on the first floor, and the dining hall looked like any other well-stocked cafeteria. It was a glorious first year in college.
My room was all of two hundred square feet. In it were three beds, three desks, three chairs, and three small closets. I couldn’t figure out how I was going to get all my clothes in this locker of a closet. Arriving in the dorm room before any of my roommates, I picked the only bed that was the bottom bunk. There was another bed above me and directly across my way, the third bed was perched up high with a desk, chair, and locker-sized closet all neatly positioned underneath it. That was my entire room. Needless to say, there wouldn’t be much privacy during my first year.
Max and I met in the cafeteria on the first day of school. Catching him smiling at me from a table nearby, I was quickly smitten. He and his roommates came over to our table and introduced themselves to us. We all took turns at small talk and then paired off to go explore the campus. From day one, our chemistry was undeniable. Max and I were naturally drawn to each other like the south pole of a magnet attracting the north pole. We marveled at how much we had in common and how we felt such a strong connection from the moment we met.
As the days passed us by, our connection only got stronger. We spent every waking moment together when we weren’t in class. Picnics on the grass, study sessions in the library—if we could have, we would have stayed up every night catching up on the eighteen years we had missed out on in each other’s lives. It was a strange bond that couldn’t be denied.
Our physical bond was equally as strong. The urge to touch and explore scared me. Such a strong desire went against the core of my belief. I wanted to stay “pure” till I got married. Max, of course, had other ideas and thought I was crazy. We argued and fought constantly. Being the tearful one in the relationship. I hurt easily and cried readily. Max accused me of being way too sensitive. He was right, of course—though he’d never get an admission from these lips.
Maybe it was our age. Maybe it was because this was the first real relationship for both of us. Whatever the reason, we just couldn’t hide our emotions from one another. Every disagreement set us off for days. We’d quarrel, not speak, then go right back to our relationship as if nothing happened. I didn’t know if we had ever resolved any issues. In many ways, it didn’t matter, because we just wanted to be together.
Our typical date started with a casual meal and then a movie. Some days we’d ride our bikes and picnic on the beach. Many times we cooked dinner together at Max’s apartment and studied. On occasion, we’d go watch a musical or go out for a nice dinner. Neither of us had much money so we couldn’t do anything extravagant. This didn’t bother us as long as we were together.
On winter breaks, our usual group of friends would go skiing. We’d rent a cabin, with all twelve of us cramming into whatever sized cabin we got. The girls took care of the food for the week while the guys were in charge of evening entertainment. We’d get up early, have breakfast, ski all day, come back for dinner then play crazy games till the wee hours of the night. Those were some of the best days of my life.
Sarah and I considered ourselves best friends since the day we met. A tall and pretty brunette, her endearing personality helped me through my most difficult days, post breakup. We met as freshmen in college, assigned to the same study group in calculus, and we struggled. Limits…derivatives…integrals…none of it made sense. Every chance we got, we went to each other’s dorm rooms and studied math. Failing out of school our first quarter wasn’t an option. We had to make it work.
Charlie Abner, Sarah’s boyfriend since high school, was better than your average guy. He stood slightly taller than Sarah at six feet tall and boasted a booming personality. High school sweethearts, they met when they were sixteen and loved each other more with each passing year. Charlie was probably waiting for the perfect moment to propose, though he wouldn’t dare tell me when. He knew all too well I couldn’t keep a secret from his love and my best friend.
Our gang of friends, Peter, Will, James, Charlie, and Max, roomed together all through their college years. They lived in the same disgusting apartment since sophomore year and in all that time, they’d never cleaned their apartment. The most memorable year starred a two-week-old, half-eaten birthday cake, ants, maggots, cockroaches, and an extermination crew. This event evicted an entire apartment building for two days. It was a wonder they didn’t get permanently evicted. Indelible memories were made not only for me and Max, but for all of us as friends and as an extended family.
Very different from Sarah and Charlie’s relationship, Max and I survived day by day. Max’s awkward expression of love made me question how much he cared. It resembled a dark cloud hovering in the horizon with the sun’s attempt at an appearance when all forces in the universe aligned properly. Though I knew he cared and often enough he told me he loved me, I still hated the uncertainty. I wanted more expression! Less ambiguity! An unequivocal exclamation of his love for me! Perhaps in the end, it was my fault for feeling so insecure about us.
As complaints went, Max wasn’t a romantic either. My ideal man was one who would surprise me with love notes and flowers. I didn’t need anything elaborate or fancy. A simple flower or a cute plant would have sufficed, but none of that ever happened. I was always the one surprising him with notes, or I’d have dinner waiting for him at his apartment when classes ended late.
One year, I surprised Max with daily gifts for a week leading up to Valentine’s Day. One of the days, I froze water in a heart-shaped pan with a laminated note inside. After the ice had melted, the note read, “Now that you’ve melted my heart, will you be my Valentine?” Pretty clever, I thought. Another day, I wrote a love poem on a large poster board with candy bars as key words in the poem. As an ego booster, it started with a Big Hunk bar. Not to sound unappreciative, but all I got in return was a teddy bear wrapped inside a balloon. It was a nice gift, but so typical—not much thought put into it.
Maybe I expected too much out of our relationship. We were barely out of our teenage years, and I knew Max wasn’t the type to fuss about anything. His laissez-faire attitude was what attracted me to him in the first place. But I always felt like I was the one who coerced us into this relationship. He definitely didn’t return the love I showered—or so I thought.
Sarah and Charlie’s undying love for one another never helped our situation. They rarely fought. Charlie never left my best friend questioning who loved who more. They operated as one mind and finished each other’s thoughts. There was no doubt that they would get married and live happily together, forever. I never had that assurance with Max. In the end, I got what I expected.