The return to school wasn't significant enough to me to note. We always watched the news carefully in the COATS program. It was being trained into me to be sensitive to what was happening in the greater picture of the government. There was great discord in it. Of course, with it being run by a two party system, we often times cling to the belief that the other side is so wrong that we cannot reach a compromise. It was a weird power game that was being enjoyed. Yet, it was a dangerous game that affected individuals like me who were trying to assimilate into society instead of being a burden. It caused me to grit my teeth over it. Then, the news came that the budgets were going to be cut. The government was going to shut down because the president refused to sign the budget into effect due to bill riders that did not benefit the majority class. That wave rippled down and touched everyone on the news. It hit the states hard to the point that advocacy groups had to file junctions to protect the minority allotments in budgets. Some states had protections written into their constitution that benefited the human rights of the underserved populations. The south doesn’t believe in those rights.
My state didn't because human rights were relative to what group you were dealing with. A letter waited for me as I opened it. It read something like this:
Dear Allison Sayes,
Due to recent budget changes, the state vocational rehabilitation program is no longer provided services towards post-secondary education. If you disagree with these changes, you have 30 days to file an appeal with:
Jane Smith
Some Street near the State Capital
Capital, State
I am still not telling you enough so you can guess the true story, too bad. You have to remember that I was in a midst of an appeal during these times. You also have to remember that I was retaining a right to file an OCR. I looked at the letter feeling hurt. I knew something was wrong with everything. I had another letter. It was confirmation that the mediation meeting was set in December after school was let out. I knew I was going to have to face the evaluator. I let out a sigh. This was going to be frustrating. I couldn't afford school. I couldn't afford to be doing all of this, but I had to do all of this. This was the price tag that you have to pay to have dignity and humanity. Think about it: I spent at least forty hours weekly on law study and letter of appeal writing while going to school full time. I was dealing with the University and the state. I should have known that a period of self sabotage started here when people were pushing me too hard to succeed and threatening to take away the tools that I would need to succeed. I didn’t try too hard to do good in classes so I could keep my interpreters to make my life easier. I wanted to like everyone else also in a way so I stopped trying to be me. I started suppressing my talents unconsciously.
Mara was asleep on the couch again. No one said anything at this point. I think there was some jealousy about her sleeping on the couch, but I ignored it. Yet, I had never seen Mara sleep on a bed. She slept outside, on the floor, and on the couch, but she never slept on a bed. It nagged me a little as I thought about the dream the other night. I remember my mom warning me not to take my dreams too seriously. Something bothered me about this one. It was too vivid. The winter took what water was left in this parched land and froze it into droplets on the brown grass. I could feel my feet sliding slightly as I walked on the sidewalks. The campus was empty as it neared finals.
We went to a pizza parlor in downtown. I walked near Mara and her dad feeling slightly out of place. The roads smelled with fermentation from the game day celebrations. The pavement was covered in gum and probably dried spit. The cold weather seemed to wrap the place in a slight curtain of grey. The skies were covered and the sun didn't want to shine. I had my hands planted into my jacket as I walked with them. Mara walked slightly behind her father. She wore just a thin overcoat. Her small frame seemed to shrink at the presence of her father. Her father, on the other hand, had Mara's frame. He walked with purpose. Even though, he wore jeans. He was eerily too cleanly dressed through he just wore a simple button down collar shirt and a brown coat fitting for the south.
His southern drawl always had the ability to make it feel like nails was crawling up my back. Sometime wasn't quite right with his words. We entered the parlor and took our seats. I ordered a slice of pizza with mushrooms. Mara opted for pepperoni. Her father picked the same as her. "So," said Pastor B, "Mara hasn't told me much about you. It is very nice to finally meet one of her suitemates. What is it you study?"
"Chemistry," I said to him. I saw him grimaced. The religious folk weren't fond of this topic of study in the south.
"Are you Christian?" he asked me almost too quickly. It felt like a shark closing in on its prey. His teeth flashed a smile that almost seemed like a wolf.
"I am," I said.
"What kind?" he asked me.
"The following God kind," I said to him politely as I could. My number was shouted so I quickly got up so I could dodge his questions for a moment. Mara's number followed mine. Then, Pastor B's number was called.
We sat down again. "So, Pastor B," I started to say to get him off the topic of me, "what brings you here? I can't take it as busy as a man yourself would just be here randomly."
"You are very astute," he said to me. I don't know how my question or attempt to pry did not come off as rude, but I will go with it. "I have a sister church here that I am very fond of," he said. "I am working on making sure that the program is going well."
I nodded as I took a drink. I was starting to dread this whole conversation. "So, what church is this?" I asked him.
"The Pasture," he said to me rather proudly.
"Oh," I said to him, "I know someone who goes there. Do you know anyone by the name of A?" Mara who just was eating her food in silence looked up at me with an expression that I couldn't read when I mentioned A's name. It wasn't a good expression.
"Ah, yes," he said, "A is a fine Christian. I made sure she was promoted as the leader of the bible studies there." I wasn’t fond of A. She had a pushy and nosy type of temperament. I tried to avoid her as much as I could because she had a God given mission of telling me what to do (even if it was a wrong thing to do as I would find out later.)
"Cool," I said, "I have been joining some of them time to time." I graded Mara's look as just general dislike for A. She was the rebellious preacher's daughter so it probably didn't mean much.
She got up to go to bathroom. I read from her body language that she wanted to be alone. I stayed sitting in front of him feeling awkward. He wiped his mouth with his neatly folded napkin as he watched her. It was that prey look that he had. It bothered me deeply. His eyes didn’t look at her with love. There was something else there, almost as if there was something else for taking. He was unfeeling as a father. I could tell. "Well," he said after setting the napkin down, "I have to hand it to you. You are a godsend for my daughter. She has been so wild and out of control." I didn’t know what he was talking about because Mara only studied and tried to avoid people. Something told me that silence was prudent so I didn’t argue with his point of view. He paused for a moment as he weighed his words. "All she need was a constructive influence in her life," he said, "I am glad you are friends with her. I know she can be hard to handle."
I just nodded. I didn't want to be helping anyone still. Mara came back from the bathroom. Things didn't seem right. I saw the way that her father looked at her. It didn't look right. She sat down next to him. He put his arm around her. I looked at his expression. Her expression was blank. The horror hit me quickly. I knew what I was looking at. He was treating her as if she was a girlfriend. He didn't move his arm. The way that they walked. The way that he looked at her wasn't right. There was something wrong. Then, I remembered the dream vividly as I looked at him. I knew. I downplayed the chatter. I wanted to be alone with Mara. I wanted to ask her.
We separated. Mara and I started going back to the dorms.
I stopped behind her. I couldn't keep walking and smiling beside her. I couldn't keep doing what I
was doing. She stopped and looked at me. Her expression froze in subtle surprise when she saw mine. I cried. Tears started running down my face.
"It must be living hell," I said to her, feeling my voice breaking. It was unable to keep its soft girl texture. "It must be living hell having to do what you do. Having to wake up after your nightmares, to put on a happy face, to pick yourself up, and to live in the living nightmare itself of your life. It must be living hell to be called crazy and have to act crazy because you blame yourself. You want people to blame you. You want people to dislike you. They do." I paused. "We are so stupid, Mara," I said, "so, incredibly stupid not to see it. I am so sorry."
She was silent. She bit her lip. I admit the words just spilled from my mouth. My thoughts were lost. I couldn't think anymore. I just hurt. Not that normal hurt, my heart hurt. I never have felt a pain like that before in my entire life. I didn't want her to live like that anymore.
"Don't worry," I said to her, "I will handle it." She just nodded, and we both continued on our way back to the dorm. Mara separated from me to go to the restroom when I walked into the dorm to find D sitting on the couch waiting for me. She was dressed comfortably in pajamas as if she had been waiting for me this whole time.
“So, little miss Perfect was imperfect,” said D to me. I frowned at her. I didn’t say anything, just watching her. “I guess I have to show you,” she said to me, not being pleased with me staying silent. She showed me one of my exams from a class. I was making a C in it. I knew I was barely passing.
“So?” I asked her. She didn’t like that response either. I guess with people always attacking me. I have gotten used to expecting people to do the worst. I actually knew that I wasn't going to fair well this semester in school. I went without support for the first half of it almost. Success does differ.
“Isn't that going to affect your eligibility for the COATS program and scholarships?” she asked me almost gleefully. I felt a tang of stress.
“Really? Cut the crap, D. I didn't know that you had such high opinion of me in the first place” I said with a smile that I had learned to have, it unnerved people enough to shut them up. I didn’t realize it then, but I stopped getting upset when someone said something bad to me or did something negative to hurt me. I learned to smile through it. It was not a good thing that I learned to smile either. Mara would tell me later that when I would smile like that in a conversation with her. It was like my soul went missing. The part of me that was good just took a brief stroll from my conscience, and I would become fixated on making the person that trigger me as uncomfortable as I could. It was a self-defense mechanism wired into me by conditioning from the bruising advocacy fights to dealing with bullying. I took an opportunity in this moment to say something to D to catch her off guard because she was unnerved already.
“Let’s swap rooms, D,” I said to her, still smiling, “you go with Z, and I room with Mara. You and Z don’t really seem to like her and me anyway. You will be happier rooming without me.”
She looked at me, not being able to gain the ground. “Sounds like an idea,” she was frowning now. I knew she was trying to figure out why she couldn’t hurt me with words. I just kept my face with a neutral smile. I knew I was unnerving her. It was what I wanted to do.
“Great,” I said, “I already spoke with Mara, and Mara spoke with Z. You were the last one. I will go shoot an email to the residence manager and the residence assistant so we can make this swap permanent.” I just picked up my book bag and put my laptop in it. I left the room to get away from her. I didn't need the toxicity anymore from D or Z. Mara didn't need them either. I sent that email, and a shocked D had to go along with the idea. I realized later in life that I was one of the only people who would think this way. Sometimes, in moments of stupidity, being good can be a rare find in humanity. Yet, I was too stupid to know what I was about to get myself into, but too brave to later regret it.