Life unfolds like a mystery. Similar to a puzzle, the big picture eludes us while we go about our day-to-day and pieces either fall into place or are set aside to fit in the future. We regularly make connections that seem insignificant at the time. And yet, intertwined with what we supposed to be mundane events are extraordinary experiences which impact us on the deepest levels and lead us down paths we could not contemplate at their onset. Whether or not we are fully aware of it, each of us has a destiny we do not completely control. Our fate is being shaped throughout the natural ebbs and flows of our existence. On an any given date, Providence may orchestrate a divine appointment.
For me, such a rendezvous arrives on the first day back at college after Christmas Break, an ordinary Tuesday. The frigid winds are whipping through the campus as I trudge in the snow to my last class. Art History in the morning was boring. The subject is interesting, just not the professor. Even though I love the language, I do not feel like spending the next hour and fifteen minutes in French. Luckily, my studiousness persists over my laziness.
Shuffling into one of the lecture rooms in White Hall with about thirty others, I take an available seat in the second row up. My frozen fingers are pulling my notebook from my bag when I hear the teacher’s first words, “Bonjour. Je m’appelle Professeur Daniels. [Hello. My name is Professor Daniels.]” And as soon as I lift my head to see the professor, I cannot take my eyes off of him.
Probably in his mid-thirties, he is ruggedly handsome, not at all what one expects a professor to look like. In my many years of schooling, I have never had an even remotely attractive male teacher. This one, well built with masculine features crowned by wavy blond hair, makes up for them all. He must have spent the break somewhere warm because his skin has a golden glow. Now that I am no longer lacking in motivation, the time flies by.
In the end, we students are instructed to take papers from a stack on a table in the front of the room. To speed things up, Professor Daniels begins handing some out. I cannot believe my luck. I seem to be one of the fortunate few to receive mine directly from him until his left hand extends toward my right and I see the wedding band on his ring finger. I don’t know why this hits me with such disappointment. Is it wrong to admire someone simply because they’re married? It feels wrong. Add that to the fact I am checking out a guy who is surely more than a decade older than me and who is also my teacher. That is too taboo. All this logic disappears when his striking blue eyes stare briefly back at me. I sense an inner stirring I have never had before.
While tromping back to my dorm, I try to analyze this new notion. This sort of thing is not like me at all. I am not a romantic and do not waste time on infatuations. It is all business with me. In fact, my goal is to work internationally once I get my business degree. My mind is devoted to my studies and to the plans I have for after graduation this spring. Other than a foolish fling my sophomore year that fizzled out after a few months, I have not wasted time on relationships. I enjoy hanging out with friends but not the distractions dating would entail.
As I enter my hall and step onto the elevator, I convince myself not to overthink a fleeting attraction to a proper stranger, an unavailable one at that. Certainly, I am mature enough to regard a handsome man without getting carried away. At least I know my Tuesday and Thursday afternoons will not be dull.
In my small room, I take off my wet coat and boots. I am warming a cup of soup in the microwave when my cell phone vibrates. It’s Justin. We met the fall of junior year through mutual friends. Also, we had a marketing class together. A great guy, he is smart and super cute, muscular but with boyish good looks. Girls are always watching him. Although, like me, he is concentrating on his grades instead of getting involved with anyone. We have gotten to be close friends with a mutual understanding which works for both of us.
I pick up the phone, “Hey, Justin. How was your break?”
“Hey, Anna. Florida was fun. My grandparents are still a blast. And the weather was warm and sunny every day. How was yours?”
“New York was cold, of course. But skiing at Peek and Peak with my aunts, uncles, and cousins was awesome. And since my parents don’t ski, they cooked for everybody.”
“Sounds good. Speaking of food, what are you up to later?”
“Nothing.”
“Well, we’re getting together for dinner at the Rat around seven.”
“Alright, I’ll see you there.”
“See ya.”
A few minutes before seven o’clock, I put my coat and boots back on and head over to meet Justin. It is just a jaunt from my dorm to the student center where the Rathskeller eatery is, by definition, in the basement. This time, I remembered to grab my gloves, a smart move since it is a gusty evening with temperatures plunging well below freezing. The blustery breeze is leaving a sting on any exposed skin. Halfway down the hill to the building, my face is already tingling when my feet slip on a patch of ice. Thankfully, I remain upright even though the snow has become so compacted by the constant flow of pedestrian traffic it is now dangerously hard and slick.
I reach my destination, and the winter wind hurls one final assault before the heavy steel and glass door slams abruptly behind me. The warmth inside is a relief after braving such bitter elements. Proceeding through the food court and behind the lobby’s grand center stairwell, I ride the elevator down below ground. Justin has saved a seat for me at a table where he and our other six friends have gathered. All except me showed up here early.
With a wave, I silently greet everyone. Each gives me a nod while starting to eat and to share stories about their various vacations. My friends don’t mind that I walk over to one of the counters nearby to order food because I can still hear their conversation. The group is laughing when I rejoin them and take my seat next to Justin. The last time I saw any of them, we were all tense before fall finals. It is nice being back together and relaxed again.
Chewing on my cheesy pizza slice, I listen to Erin and Madison. They spent part of the break together in Aspen. Madison’s aunt has a house there. Hearing them recount their skiing adventures, I can easily tell their excursion topped mine. The healthy glow on their faces seems to be thanks to a day at a spa where they indulged in facials and purchased skin products from Paris. Despite my slight envy, I am happy when they treat me to a few free samples.
The only couple in our group, Jenna and Will, they stayed nearby in their hometown of Cleveland shredding the local slopes of Alpine Valley. A jewel of a terrain park hidden in the hills of the snow belt, it is a far cry from the high elevation resort in Aspen or even the mountain of Peek and Peak. But by the pictures on Jenna’s phone, it looks like they had good snow and a good time.
Justin’s roommates, Davis and Ben, these clowns amuse us all with hilarious stories from their road trip to the Bay State to visit two baes they met on the internet. Suffice it to say, pictures people post online aren’t usually accurate representations of their true looks. These gullible guys drove all those desperate miles to meet far less than their dream girls. But being the goofballs they are, these two befriended those coquettes for a place to crash so they could still go out and see the sights of Boston. They even took a bite out of the Big Apple on their way back home outside of Pittsburgh.
More than an hour later, we call it a night. We make plans to regroup downtown at our favorite pub Ray’s on Friday. Even though it is out of his way, Justin offers to walk me back to my dorm. I assure him it isn’t necessary, but he insists. And since he is being so considerate, I invite him up for hot chocolate before he has to catch a bus home. The university conveniently provides bus rides around campus and throughout town free to students with college IDs. Usually, Justin tags along with Ben and Davis in Ben’s car. The three of them, plus two other guys they don’t socialize with, rent a house together.
Anyway, if you picture the campus as a circle divided into 360°, I live along the line of 0°/360°. In the valley northeast of my residence, approximately at 45°, is front campus. That is where most of the academic buildings are located and where all my classes will be. Continuing clockwise, almost directly south of my dormitory is the circle’s center- the hub of the student center, gym, and library. Moving northwest, the guys’ house is downhill from me at about 315°. In warm weather, it is an easy hike from my place to theirs or vice versa. Tonight, however, it is way too cold to travel far on foot.
From the entryway of my residence hall, Justin and I take a quick elevator trip before stepping off the well-lit lift onto an almost completely dark floor. Several girls are glued to the TV in the common area. Virtually unnoticed, Justin and I tiptoe in the shadows down the quiet corridor to my room. After I stir cocoa mix and water into mugs and warm them in my microwave, I carry mine and curl up on my bed. Justin takes his and sits at my desk.
Easing into a conversation about our classes, I give Justin an overview of my four. He briefs me on his five. Both of us are excited that graduation is only a few months away. We agree it would be great to land jobs quickly but to somehow still have one last summer of freedom before beginning our careers. Justin is also majoring in business and wants to start his own company someday.
Once we finish our cocoa and our conversation, I escort Justin back to the elevator. This time when we pass the girls in the common area, the scene in the movie they’re watching brightens the hallway long enough for them to get a look at Justin, and the coeds don’t hesitate to check him out. Before the automatic door slides closed, I remind Justin to text me when he makes it home. Then, ignoring the gaping girls, I return to my room.
As I get organized for the morning, I give my mom a call. While talking with her, I receive Justin’s text and reply with a smile. A few minutes later, I finish with Mom and settle into bed. I doze off while gazing out my window at crystal snowflakes cascading down from invisible clouds set against the backdrop of a jet-black January sky.
At daybreak, my alarm buzzes. Squinting, I can see the sky has now faded to gray with the sun beginning to permeate its heavy curtain. It is already time to drag myself out of bed. Even though I have to wake up earlier than I would like Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, doing so will give me a lot of extra time. Plus, by Fridays at noon, I will be able to get a jump-start on my weekends.
Today goes as expected. In International Business, I find the familiar faces of students who are sharing my field of study. A girl that was on the one-week trip abroad we had to take junior year is across the room. She was nice. That required week in the UK went fast, though, and we didn’t really have time to bond. It is a distinct possibility she doesn’t even remember me.
Right after my first class ends, I rush to Public Relations, where I recognize more distant faces of people from previous semesters. There is again no one I am close to. The last year and a half I have pretty much been in a happy huddle with my current group. When P.R. is over, I have confirmation that these two courses are going to keep me busy, which is how I’d guessed it would be.
Back in Art History on Thursday, it is as boring as it was Tuesday. This professor lectures just to hear herself talk. She is not the slightest bit engaging to listen to either. Even though this class is only an elective, it is going to be challenging. When the doldrums finally end, I still have an hour before French, so I drop by the student center for a sandwich. At the appointed time, I fall in line with a band of students who are all marching off to classes in the same direction, packing the snow along the path even more.
The sun is finally visible making it slightly warmer than it was earlier. Although the sunlight is casting a glare off the stark white ground and directly into my eyes, it is a welcome sight. Too many winter days here in northeast Ohio are dark and gloomy. I shiver as I picture the river downtown that Justin, his roommates, and I paddled kayaks on a few months ago. That was such a fun day, but I bet the river is frozen over now. Maybe, I can sneak a peek when I go to meet my friends at Ray’s tomorrow night. The river is only about a block from the bar. When I graduate, I will miss this lively little town of Riverside.
My daydreaming must have slowed me down because I am one of the last to arrive at the lecture hall. Climbing to the top row, I manage to find an empty seat. Unlike Tuesday, I have complete control over my emotions today. I tell myself that I do not feel anything unusual as I begin watching the professor writing on the projector. However, I do notice he writes left-handed. And even from the back of the room, I can see his wedding band. It somehow gives me security knowing he is a happily married man. There is no reason for me to think any more about him.
Friday night, I meet Madison and Erin at the student center parking lot. There, we board a bus to downtown. It is only a short hop from the stop to the entrance of Ray’s.
Opening the single exterior door and crossing the entryway to push through large double doors, the three of us are greeted by the friendly sight of four-top tables inviting patrons to gather in the middle of the cozy space. Lining the red brick wall to the right is a row of more private, high back booths. In front of the matching wall on our left is the pièce de résistance, the iconic vintage bar running nearly the length of this historic establishment. Simple stools are tucked beneath the well-varnished wood counter which reflects refreshments as diverse as the clientele. An impressive array of beer tap handles feature draft domestics intermingled with imports of numerous kinds. The wall behind is adorned by neon signs and shelving that is stocked with glassware appropriate for serving any of the many brews, or harder spirits. Nearby coolers keep individually bottled beverages.
My eyes search the room for Justin and find him seated with his roomies near one of the flat screen TVs. Madi and Erin follow me, and we connect with the other three. Immediately, I ask Justin if he will walk the block to the bridge with me because I want to look over at the river. Since he agrees, we promptly excuse ourselves and leave.
Thanks to the glow of a pair of tall ebony lampposts flanking us as we stand in the middle of the sidewalk on the border of the pale concrete bridge, shrouded otherwise in darkness, Justin and I peer down and are able to discern the area below is blanketed in deep snow. Because it is beyond the lampposts’ light and thus our sight, we assume the water is at least partially frozen. As my hands come to rest on the black wrought iron guardrail, I focus on the numerous giant trees in the foreground rooted motionlessly along the river’s banks. Their sagging branches are heavily frosted with snow and ice. Those in the background are looming shadows in what appears to be a peculiar paradise.
As the cold from the metal seeps through my gloves and chills my fingers, I face Justin just long enough for us to exchange innocent grins before turning our attention back toward the river. As if on cue, snowflakes begin to fall. With childlike awe, we delight in the 4D artistry as the mist of our breath combines and floats off into the distance. After an enchanted few moments, we hurry back to our friends, prancing through fresh powder covering the cobblestone street beneath our feet.
When we return, the pub is packed from wall-to-wall. Jenna and Will have arrived to join the others who are holding seats for us. With no need to view menus, our group places its order. Once the drinks are delivered, I try one of the unusual ales from the beer flight, a 4-ounce pineapple IPA. With my turkey burger and basket of fried mushrooms, I switch to water because I am not much of an alcohol drinker.
Since we are out later than the buses run, Madison, Erin, and I hoof it back to Justin’s with him, Ben, and Davis. Jenna and Will left earlier. The guys invite us girls to crash at their place. Justin even gives up his double bed for Madi and Erin. He takes one couch in the living room, and I bunk on the other. In the morning, Justin is still asleep when I wake the girls, and we sneak out to the bus stop at the end of his street. I am anxious to get back up the hill to the dorm for a couple more hours of rest in my room.
