Lessons Learned

"You sure you don't wanna come along? Julie's coming," Peter mischievously tempted, arousing Gary to look up from his graphite-smeared notes. 

Gary smiled ruefully at his dorky dormmate, watching Peter sway and jig in a horrid plaid and too-short khakis to entice the Experimental Psych major out from his chair. He squirmed in his uncomfortable plastic seat, his concentration now broken from three hours of studying, noticing the swamp of his backside and the stiff ache of his locked muscles. Three finals tomorrow, but the thought of dancing with Julie and her adorably frizzy locks nearly emptied Gary's brain of all its contents.

Shaking his head, Gary said, "Will you tell her I said hi, at least?"

"You could tell her yourself, moron!" Peter's attitude abruptly flipped, him now stiff and exasperated. "God, I don't know what's been going on longer: you studying or you both blueballing each other for the semester."

"Dude!" Gary dropped his notes on a pile of more notes on his desk. "What the hell?"

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, "Sorry, man, sorry. Yeah, that was a dick move on my part." He leaned against their fake white-brick wall, the gravity of his two physics finals tomorrow weighing on him, "Shouldn't have said that, at least, not so mean. She does like you, though, man. Like," Peter's eyes widened, and he spread his hands.

"I know," Gary said quietly, a small smile spreading. Peter titled his head, processing the implication.

"No," Peter smiled.

"Remember when you, Taylor, and Nate left the library session early?" Gary said, his voice lightening at recalling the very fond memory.

"You DOG!" Peter exclaimed.

"We kept everything above the waist, perv, but we were pretty, uh, well, hot and heavy for a minute there." Gary sheepishly brushed the hair on the back of his head (when did he shower last?) but continued, "You go ahead. After my last final tomorrow, I'm picking up poppies and asking her on a date."

Peter shook his head, slipping on his sneakers; he laughed, "So, life's good then, huh?"

Gary nodded, fully confident, "Oh yeah." 

Swinging their heavy door open, Peter lingered and turned back to ask, "Hey, I'm sorry again. We good?"

"We're good," Gary threw a 'hang-loose' sign Peter's way for emphasis. Peter replied in kind and waved bye before the door slammed itself closed, leaving Gary alone to his studies.

Returning to his scribblings that only he could make sense of, Gary associated, rehearsed, and encoded all the information his neurons would allow. He felt another headache creeping in and couldn't remember the last time he took a swig of water; he reached for his bottle but stopped short when his phone began to vibrate.

The caller ID read "Work". 

Gary heard himself answer, then shout over the chorus of loud TVs and the drunken cries at whatever played, "Hello?"

A garbled voice replied, but they, too, repeated themselves with a shout, "Gar? Where are you? Are you on your way?" Gary recognized Mar's voice, his no-nonsense manager with a heart of gold.

"Mar? I don't work tonight; I come in tomorrow!" Gary double-checked his small whiteboard calendar to confirm and nodded to himself, reassured he didn't screw up. But, unfortunately, it seemed he did.

"Stephen said you two traded shifts last week." Hearing Mar's reminder, Gary felt his blood chill; his body slumped and felt weak at recalling the mocking memory. He leaned back in his chair and, in his anger, ensured the facepalm he delivered felt painful and punishing. "You forgot."

"Yes, Mrs. Blake," Gary winced at calling her the one thing she asked everyone not to call her, "I forgot, but I can still make the rest of my shift!" He scrambled to find his still-dirty jeans and cap for a night of chargrilling burgers.

"You got finals, hun?" Mar's voice came through better as the background noise subdued. 

"Yes, ma'am - Mar, sorry. I got some tomorrow, but I'm heading out now, I'll be there-"

"You stay home and study, hun. Just this once. K?" Gary stammered something, but Mar continued, "I won't hear it. Oh, gotta go, Bronson's about to throw a hail-" Gary couldn't hear his boss' words over pandemonium erupting at the bar. He could barely hear Mar, "-od luck, h-!" before the line went quiet.

Running his hands through his hair, Gary gripped the ends and pulled. Then he did it again when his anger didn't magically disappear. 

"Stupid," he muttered to himself.

Pacing back and forth in his room now, turning often in the tiny room, Gary felt curiously focused yet delirious. His attention and vision remained crystal clear, but he could hear nothing except his thoughts of failure and erratic breathing. Gary didn't write it down; he always wrote things down. And now Mar thought him a flake; he knew it, despite the past six months of pats on the back from her for doing good work.

Mar didn't even seem mad. Her voice did hint at disappointment, making the guilt self-inflicted. Worse even. Gary spent the next five minutes fuming, fanning his flames, paranoia questioning him if he forgot anything else: Did he pay his phone bill? Did he forget anything else as simple as showing up for his shift? Was he doing enough?

"Stop it," he said aloud. 

Gary made mistakes, and he realized he A. couldn't undo them and B. the very near future would only get worse if he didn't stop twisting his own spine over the past.

Taking a deep breath, he grounded himself. Gary wriggled his toes, paying attention to his calloused feet numbing to the cold white tile floor, how voices, music, and laughter penetrated the thin walls, and how his and Pete's little Airwick managed to overcome the faint smell of old paint with a watermelon-esk aroma. Gary tried to articulate what he tasted (the most challenging sense to ground with, he thought) but gave up and swiped a stick of gum to get rid of his stale, rancid breath. Using the logical half of his brain helped, but Gary didn't stop until he went through all five senses.

Looking over to his desk, Gary saw a half cup of cold coffee from this morning, his small, minimalist fluorescent desk lamp (a birthday gift from his parents that he genuinely loved; God, he was an old soul), and the piles of paper that looked more black than white. He saw now that he put too much on himself this semester. Still, it didn't change that he needed to ace his three finals tomorrow, feeling cautiously optimistic he would do o.k. on them if he stopped studying now. 

Unless his professors threw a curveball, Gary's lips pursed. But if he wanted to earn their good graces and land a coveted aide position to any of them next semester, Gary burdened himself to aim for one of, if not the, best grades in the class.

His hand digging into his pocket, Gary tapped his phone without thinking this through. The dial rang for a few moments until she picked up.

"Hello?" Julie said.

"Hey, Julie! Uh, I know this is short notice, but I was wondering if you wanted to have a last-minute study session - for Baker's final tomorrow?" Gary's voice sounded a little panicked, nervously talking too fast.

Julie went quiet for a moment, as if considering, but then asked, "An actual study session or, is this a booty call..?" Gary bit his lip at the hesitation in her voice; he called for the former but worried what she would say if he asked for the latter.

"A real study date-" Gary winced at the word 'date' but kept talking before it got awkward, "I'm a little shaky about it, and I feel I didn't want to be alone, so I, uh, called you." God, that was so much worse!

Gary could feel Julie squinting when she replied, "Yeah, we can quiz each other, sure, but are you o.k., Gare? What do you mean you didn't want to be alone?" He felt himself swoon a little at her concern.

"Ah, poor choice of words," Gary lied. Then he shook his head, thinking lying so early in their almost-relationship a bad precedent, "Actually, no, that's a lie. I'm fine, I promise, just a little shook up."

"Sorry, Gary, you wanna talk about it?" he thought he heard a hint of eagerness in Julie's tone.

"Sure; I mean, I don't want it to eat into our studying time, though."

"You calling me saved me from partying when I should be studying. I'd much rather procrastinate by talking with and helping you than give myself a morning headache tomorrow. Meet me at the library?" 

Gary opened his mouth to reply, but Julie nervously interrupted, "For studying! Sorry! I felt I needed to clarify since last time we-"

Laughing, Gary assuaged, "I got it. See you soon."

"Heh, see you soon."

~

Finding a cozy nook behind tall cases of musty books, Gary and Julie seized a round table for six, all to themselves. They quickly claimed all of its space with how much study material they brought. Sitting down, Julie held up a finger before they began quizzing each other.

"One condition - will you at least tell me you're okay? You can tell me what's bothering you if you want." Julie leaned over the table to him.

Shrugging, Gary admitted, "I got frustrated, was all. I screwed up on something and panicked until I couldn't think straight." He could still feel lingering embers of his self-doubt and cold reprimands, threatening to return should he fail any exams tomorrow. Funny, he attributed failure not to an 'F' on a test but not reaching that tippy-top, arbitrary position. 

"I'm sorry, I get it. I do that too sometimes," Julie replied. 

Of course, Julie experienced such doubts: what remarkable student didn't? Shoddily organizing his piles, Gary inquired, "I'm sorry too; can I ask how you do it? How do you get past yourself?"

"Being around others helps," Julie gestured at him. "But that only puts off the problem, so I try to recognize that I have to let go."

"What do you mean?" Gary didn't take Julie as the type to shrug off her problems. 

"I mean, let go as in, I don't have the power, the reach, to do everything I want. I know that sounds so obvious, but I need the reminder every once in a while to remember that I'm not always the day's protagonist. Sometimes it'll be Betty's, yours, but some days I get lucky."

"It sounds like you're selling yourself short - like you attribute your accomplishments to chance." Gary felt the coals burning again, this time, oddly enough, on behalf of his crush, who admonished herself.

Julie gave him a mischievous smile, "Look at you, getting upset on my behalf. I appreciate it, but maybe I didn't choose my words carefully enough." She tilted her head back, and Gary traced the lines of her slim neck to her bare shoulders. He forgot his name for a minute there.

Still looking up, Julie waved her hands to the ceiling, saying, "I guess... It feels healthier to treat my dreams as possibilities rather than responsibilities. I guess it feels liberating?" She returned her attention to Gary, "It's like, ugh, when I want to accomplish something, I lose sight of why I set the goal in the first place: I came to college to learn, but I catch myself wanting to see the letter 'A' on my exams more than earning the 'A' through learning and retention. Sorry, am I making sense?"

Gary nodded hesitantly, "Yeah, I think so. And I think I get where you're coming from - earlier, when I was panicking, the finals tomorrow felt almost... Sentient? Maybe that's not it, but it's definitely separate enough that it had its own hold over me." Julie hummed in agreement. "God, I didn't feel like myself. I felt so angry for slipping up just once; granted, it wasn't a great slip-up, but in the grand scheme of things?"

Julie finished Gary's train of thought, "Not so condemning; they never are." She flashed a sweet smile, and any last lingerings of angst and anger dissipated within him. Gary acknowledged the mistake, accepted his lack of control, and curiously, he felt smaller. Not in a negative way; no, it felt more like a relief, like how Dr. Jekyll would feel if he forever rid himself of Mr. Hyde.

Tapping the table, Julie asked, "Feel better?"

"Much, thank you. I really appreciate you stopping me from having an awful night."

Julie clicked her tongue, "Well, you'll just have to make it up to me - how about dinner tomorrow?"

Gary laughed aloud but stifled it quickly and looked around sheepishly for any would-be shushers, "Certainly, sorry I didn't ask sooner - I was going to ask tomorrow with flowers."

"A modern-day romantic," Julie teased. "You're sweet. Ready?"

Bobbing his head, Gary pulled out a bundle of flashcards, many flipped, upside-down, and otherwise unintelligible scribblings to all but him, "All right, ladies first..." And so they studied until closing hours, occasionally getting questions wrong, but supporting each other and moving on.