I had a fairly drama-free school experience for the majority of my childhood and teenage years. There was one bout of angst between a couple of friends and myself that mostly served to enforce my belief that odd numbers are a bad idea when it comes to "best friends". I'm pretty sure that also applies to having children, which is why I've told Colby that if we ever slip up and end up with a third kid, then he's going to have to step up to the plate because we'll be going for number four. I'm a firm believer in symmetry in everything but household decor.
When I got to college I had still never really experienced "hate". I strongly disliked plenty of people, but there was no one that had ever made my skin crawl when they were in my vicinity. Within days of my arrival at LSU, I met my nemesis--we'll call him Jeff--and I knew from the instant I met this person that I wanted nothing to do with him.
Unfortunately, that proved impossible as we were in the same circle of friends. I really did try at first. Very early on, probably within my first week of college, I went to Wal-Mart with my friend Bryan, and Jeff came with us for a reason that escapes me now. Bryan and I talked the whole time we were in the car and in the store, but Jeff remained silent. And not just silent--aggressively silent. It was as though his silence was an assault tactic, and I felt it beating down on me. When he would talk, it was only to Bryan, it was like I didn't exist for him. Then, for just a moment while we were in the store, Bryan left us alone while he ran to another aisle to find what he was looking for, and I distinctly remember standing inches away from Jeff, staring at the game controls, neither of us saying a word. It was as if battle lines had been drawn, and I wasn't ever quite sure why.
The first semester of college was a huge adjustment period, but by my second semester I was ready for a challenge, so I decided to pledge Pershing Rifles, an army affiliated ROTC extracurricular club. I knew that there would be a lot of sweat, tears, and mud involved, along with low crawling and spending the majority of my lifetime polishing boots and pressing my uniform just to be instructed to march into the Mississippi river with my rifle held over my head But for some bizarre reason I got it into my head that this was something I needed to conquer.
Then I found out that Jeff was going to be our pledge trainer. That he would be in my face every Sunday for 3 hours, and that he would more than likely relish making my life a living hell. Rather than discouraging me, that knowledge just served to make me even more determined to succeed.
Our first meeting as a pledge class was on a sunny autumn day after our ROTC lab got out. We met at the back of the military science building to undergo our very first uniform and knowledge inspection. I had spent hours rubbing tiny circles of black polish into my boots so that they would shine like glass. I had used can after can of starch until my uniform could practically stand on it's own. I had gone over our pledge manual with my class until we had every page memorized. I had never felt more ready for anything in my life.
Jeff began the inspection, and I could feel the stares of other active members standing around watching and snickering as Jeff tore everyone to shreds, but we all stayed focused and I waited for my turn to arrive. At last, Jeff's face was in my line of sight, and he was scrutinizing me, barking out questions rapid-fire. I responded to each question, keeping my face entirely blank and my eyes at a thousand yard stare.
Then he stood back, and glaring at me asked, "So, did Bryan get your uniform ready for you?" I was mortified to be, in essence, accused of cheating in front of all of my teammates as well as the active members. I stated firmly that I had done all the work myself.
"Are you sure? I know you and Bryan are good friends, maybe he helped you out a little bit?" The insinuation infuriated me, and I could feel my face burning, but still I stood by my work.
I distinctly remember that as the moment my intense dislike turned to hate.
I did make it through that pledge class, and at the end of my freshman year was initiated into Pershing Rifles, but my interaction with Jeff didn't end there. Now that I was a member, I was included in all of the parties and get-togethers, and Jeff was at every single one. After a year of mutual dislike, I approached him at the end of a party with the intent to make amends of some sort. I had discovered how exhausting hatred could be, and while I was certainly not the only person I knew of that felt a strong animosity towards Jeff, I still thought that maybe I'd never given him enough of a chance. Bryan had told me that Jeff had reasons for his intense anger and bitter attitude--reasons that I won't go into here. I felt like I should at least try to open some kind of dialogue between us. We would never be friends, but maybe it would be less painful to coexist.
While I was talking to him, he told me to move because he couldn't see the television.
Months passed, and I went through a horrible break-up with the boyfriend that I had been convinced would get me my ring by spring. We were planning marriage and forever, and then he cheated on me and broke up with me for the other woman. During the break-up however, he insisted that he was not seeing her, that things just weren't right between us anymore, and naively I believed him and knew that eventually he would come back around and see the errors of his ways. It was time for our annual Military Ball, so I dressed myself in my finest and prepared myself for him to see me and come racing back into my life. It didn't happen at the ball, but the after-party was at his house, so I figured that would be the most opportune time.
I went back to my dorm room with a friend and fortified myself with a few Sprite and Malibu's, then we headed over to the party. I chatted with the ex for a little while, both of us flirting and I felt certain that this would be the night. I wanted to leave him wanting more, so I went outside to talk to Bryan for a while, giving the ex some time to miss me. When I figured enough time had passed, I went inside again and was confronted with the scene of the ex and the "other woman" dirty dancing in the middle of the living room and shoving their tongues far enough down each others throats to taste their breakfasts.
I stood there in shock for a minute and then stumbled back outside where Bryan was talking to Jeff. Bryan saw the look on my face and knew immediately that something was wrong. I couldn't speak, and I was in such shock that I barely realized that I was choking on my sobs. All I could do was cry uncontrollably, and my legs were refusing to support me. I remember, in the back of my mind, thinking that this must be what a crying jag is, and feeling so humiliated that I was completely breaking down over an ex-boyfriend not only in public, but right there in front of Jeff.
Bryan and Jeff tried to help me as I propped myself against a wall, and I could hear a jumble of concerned voices behind them. Bryan kept trying to console me while Jeff told everyone to leave me alone. I have no idea how much time passed, but one of the neighbors had called the cops at some point to report our noise level, and a uniformed policeman showed up at the doorstep where I was sobbing. He said something to Jeff and Bryan, the ex came to the door and assured the cop that everyone was going home, and then, to really top off the night, I threw up all over the ex's doormat right by the cops feet.
That's when I died.
I don't know what Jeff said, but the cop left without saying a word to me and then Bryan was walking me to his car and Jeff was following behind. We drove back to campus, the only sounds in the darkness my still constant sobs and frequent hiccups. Bryan pulled up to Jeff's dorm and I didn't even bother to lift my head to say goodbye. Then my car door opened and Jeff was standing there. He leaned down into the car and very gently he put his arms around me. My sobs had just begun to diminish, but at that point a whole new generation of tears came rushing forward, I think for entirely different reasons.
Jeff just held me and let me cry on his shoulder for who knows how long, while he whispered comforting words in my ear while I clung to him. It seemed like an eternity passed before the tears eventually stopped again, and pulling back, Jeff kissed me on the forehead and told me again that everything would be okay, and then the door closed and Bryan pulled away from the curb on a mission to deposit me in a bed somewhere.
I never saw that side of Jeff again. The next time I saw him, he was just as silent as ever, just as angry. Neither of us ever talked about that night, and I still never counted him among my favorite people. I haven't seen Jeff in over 3 years. I know that he's married now, and Colby is good friends with him and talks to him from time to time. There's a chance that, as long as he's not deployed, he'll be at our wedding, standing next to Colby at the head of the aisle.
I wish I could say that I learned an important lesson about people that night, that my entire perspective about Jeff changed at that moment. And in some ways it did, but mostly it didn't. Although I saw a different side to him on a cold night 5 years ago, it's a side that he keeps so deeply hidden that it's nearly impossible to like him. I think that so much time has passed now and there is so much water under the bridge that I'll really feel nothing when or if I see him again. If I learned anything about people that night it's only that we are all so predictably unpredictable. The people that you think will be there for you always can vanish in the blink of an eye, and the people that you think wouldn't stop to give you a drink of water if you were dying on the side of the road are the people who can turn out to be your greatest champions. I guess I learned the only thing anyone can every really know about people--you just never know.
