The Epic Saga of How I Came to be at Coastal
PART ONE
I don’t smoke. But here I was standing on the edge of the parking lot smoking my third and last Marlboro Red. The sky was gray but it was still bright outside; you could tell the sun was trying its damnedest but all in vain. It was a quiet and cold morning on Maryland’s western shore and the forecast showed no chance of sunshine. Very few cars pulled past in the time I stood there watching, waiting. It didn’t surprise me because I knew next to no one would be up this early on a Saturday morning. The few who did come along kept their eyes locked on the ground, not making conversation as they passed along traveling the heavy walk of shame. The clothes they still adorned from the previous night smelled of skunked beer and that certain after sex aroma. Respectfully I ignored them knowing one Saturday morning not unlike this one they would do the same for me.
Here I stood, staring, watching the occasional car go by but mostly searching. I don’t know what I was staring at or hoping to see. Here I stood, waiting, anxiously for something to come along. I don’t know what I was expecting to come along all I knew was it had to be soon. I had this feeling this morning that was stronger than my hangover. It pulled me from my sleep and forced me to the comfort of fresh air and nicotine. I guess what I was looking for and expecting to come was the answer. A solution to this unnerving feeling that something was not right; The feeling that even though I am happier than I have any right to be as I’m here, I’m not supposed to be here.
I heard footsteps coming towards me from behind and I registered that it was not another person coming home after a night of debauchery but someone walking with purpose. Yet still I did not turn, I could not turn I was too caught up in finding the answer in the sparkle of the asphalt. Soon a figure stood next to me that I didn’t have to turn to recognize.
“Sup cupcake?” I asked. Cupcake was the newest addition to my happily growing list of best friends. She transferred here at the beginning of the semester and we had had two classes together but that’s not how we became friends. We became friends like most kids in college here do…we were at the same party. She walked in on one of my and my friends’ private parties and stumbled up to me. Even in her drunken stupor she recognized me from our classes and slurred “I know you your in my classes…they call me cupcake” as she proceeded to grab her double d boobs and give them a giggle. The name stuck mostly because it fit her so well. I can not recall all the stories I have that involve cupcakes boobs because it seems they always get her into trouble like they have minds of their own. It also seemed like I was the one constantly getting her out of said trouble because that’s who I am. I am the glue amongst my friends. I hold them together individually and collectively. It’s always been who I am and I love my friends they make me feel important but lately they had been spreading me thin.
“What are you doing out here? And why are you up so early?” she said
My mind was forced to shift directions and come up with a suitable answer on the spot. I snapped out of my trance and realized that the cigarette was dangerously close to burning my fingers.
“Couldn’t sleep” it was the best thing I could come up with “and I didn’t want to wake anyone up so I came outside for a smoke” this seemed to bolster my friend.
“Mind if I join you?” I smiled because she had already joined me yet cupcake still felt the need to make comments like this. I, being who I am then felt the need to make her feel as important by dignifying her silly question with an answer said
“Only if I can bum one off of you; that was my last one” habitually she extended me the pack and we both lit up. I could feel the soothing effects of having a best friend so near and after a few slow sensual drags of her menthol camels a smile came to my lips and comments on the night before put us both into a fit of giggles. The answer I so desperately sought in the pavement was pushed to the back of my mind and for the moment I just enjoyed being.
I don’t smoke. But here I was standing on the edge of the parking lot smoking my third and last Marlboro Red. The sky was gray but it was still bright outside; you could tell the sun was trying its damnedest but all in vain. It was a quiet and cold morning on Maryland’s western shore and the forecast showed no chance of sunshine. Very few cars pulled past in the time I stood there watching, waiting. It didn’t surprise me because I knew next to no one would be up this early on a Saturday morning. The few who did come along kept their eyes locked on the ground, not making conversation as they passed along traveling the heavy walk of shame. The clothes they still adorned from the previous night smelled of skunked beer and that certain after sex aroma. Respectfully I ignored them knowing one Saturday morning not unlike this one they would do the same for me.
Here I stood, staring, watching the occasional car go by but mostly searching. I don’t know what I was staring at or hoping to see. Here I stood, waiting, anxiously for something to come along. I don’t know what I was expecting to come along all I knew was it had to be soon. I had this feeling this morning that was stronger than my hangover. It pulled me from my sleep and forced me to the comfort of fresh air and nicotine. I guess what I was looking for and expecting to come was the answer. A solution to this unnerving feeling that something was not right; The feeling that even though I am happier than I have any right to be as I’m here, I’m not supposed to be here.
I heard footsteps coming towards me from behind and I registered that it was not another person coming home after a night of debauchery but someone walking with purpose. Yet still I did not turn, I could not turn I was too caught up in finding the answer in the sparkle of the asphalt. Soon a figure stood next to me that I didn’t have to turn to recognize.
“Sup cupcake?” I asked. Cupcake was the newest addition to my happily growing list of best friends. She transferred here at the beginning of the semester and we had had two classes together but that’s not how we became friends. We became friends like most kids in college here do…we were at the same party. She walked in on one of my and my friends’ private parties and stumbled up to me. Even in her drunken stupor she recognized me from our classes and slurred “I know you your in my classes…they call me cupcake” as she proceeded to grab her double d boobs and give them a giggle. The name stuck mostly because it fit her so well. I can not recall all the stories I have that involve cupcakes boobs because it seems they always get her into trouble like they have minds of their own. It also seemed like I was the one constantly getting her out of said trouble because that’s who I am. I am the glue amongst my friends. I hold them together individually and collectively. It’s always been who I am and I love my friends they make me feel important but lately they had been spreading me thin.
“What are you doing out here? And why are you up so early?” she said
My mind was forced to shift directions and come up with a suitable answer on the spot. I snapped out of my trance and realized that the cigarette was dangerously close to burning my fingers.
“Couldn’t sleep” it was the best thing I could come up with “and I didn’t want to wake anyone up so I came outside for a smoke” this seemed to bolster my friend.
“Mind if I join you?” I smiled because she had already joined me yet cupcake still felt the need to make comments like this. I, being who I am then felt the need to make her feel as important by dignifying her silly question with an answer said
“Only if I can bum one off of you; that was my last one” habitually she extended me the pack and we both lit up. I could feel the soothing effects of having a best friend so near and after a few slow sensual drags of her menthol camels a smile came to my lips and comments on the night before put us both into a fit of giggles. The answer I so desperately sought in the pavement was pushed to the back of my mind and for the moment I just enjoyed being.