A narrative juxtaposition of evangelical and secular colleges.
“You must understand that seeing is believing, but also know that believing is seeing.”
The first thing I noticed was your lips. Though chapped, they were coated in a feminine pink, and your eyes were outlined delicately in black. Mischievous blues laughed with your lips as you hugged me tight, perky breasts straining against a tight fitting button down. You were wearing the boots I gave you in high school, and I figured you had broken them in by now. You still walked with a pigeon-toed gait.
We ordered, sat, and waited. I picked up our tray.
“Tell me about college,” I said, pulling apart a pair of disposable chopsticks.
“It’s been really great,” you replied, mixing together your chicken and rice. “It wasn’t very fun at the beginning of the semester, but after Halloween, things got a lot better.”
“Well,” you said and shoved a forkful of hibachi into your mouth. “I didn’t think I would like partying, but it’s so fun.”
I could feel your foot bobbing up and down beneath the table. I wonder if you’re nervous, I thought. The black outline around your eyes made you seem cool and collected, but I didn’t know what was hiding behind the makeup.
“You just like… go out and get a few drinks, make out with boys, and do stupid shit,” you said between chews.
I thought back to my first semester at college: late night games of Apples to Apples, Ultimate Frisbee, or soccer. There was no alcohol, just caffeine. There was no making out, just hanging out. I didn’t regret my choices.
Do you? I wondered.
You told me about your friends who like drinking and about how you like drinking. I don’t blame you, I thought as you explained what drunkenness felt like. I too liked the effects of alcohol, but I didn’t compromise my dignity in order to get a buzz.
I wondered how many sets of lips you had kissed, the number of men you had pleasured, and the number that had pleased you. The thought of you on your knees made me sick, and I had a hard time swallowing my sushi roll.
“Griffin is such an annoying drunk,” you said. I swallowed hard and thought of the dark haired boy, my best friend. Drunk.
He had failed to mention that piece of information.
You continued talking and forgot about drunken Griffin, but I began to formulate a mental picture. I was immediately afraid. What did you do to him? What did he do to himself?
Your words ate me, and I ate my sushi. Offering a courtesy laugh when necessary, I held your trust for an hour. But you had long lost mine.
I heard about you from a friend, but I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe my golden haired girl fell from grace.
You fell a long time ago, I thought. I’m just eating with the carnage.