The Finding Tree

Chapter 12 - The Memory

I was here earlier than usual this year.

Marcie had left the middle of July to travel with Richard, and the school said I couldn't move in until the beginning of the next month. So after ten days of being home alone, I booked my flight to arrive August first.

Richard's travel agent knew me by name now, and was more pleasant to talk to than my family about most things. I chatted with her for almost half an hour as she bought my tickets. She had a husband, sister, two dogs and a ferret. She'd traveled to France, London and had always wanted to take the train through Siberia. I was pretty sure I liked her.

It was another two weeks before the other students would start showing up, so I had the place mostly to myself. There were a few lost souls like me, that Chesterwood always made exceptions for, but the campus was truly deserted, and I loved it!

I scoffed remembering Marcie and Richard again. They had made quite a pair, over the years. Married in Paris eight months ago, honeymoon in Switzerland, house in New York, San Diego, and of course our home base....and my Lakehouse. I didn't like to think about it too much.

Richard had made a career of setting up legal centers for expatriates in several nations around the globe. There were always those Americans that needed a legal guide for the justice system of the country they were residing in, whether for a parking ticket, or a criminal indictment. His foundations greased the political wheels and made special arrangements for clients...for a fee of course.

He was a philanthropist on the surface, always appearing at charity functions, and developing, non-profit trusts that supported a bouquet of pet causes. But he was filthy rich, between the multinational government contracts, grants and kickbacks from politicians, both he and Marcie seemed to be lapping up the luxury and environment.

I couldn't stand the hypocrisy.

I was surprised Marcie even remembered me at times. I had even stopped referring to her as mom, and she never once corrected me. I guess that kind of said it all.

Of course I missed having a mom, but by now I didn't even remember what a mom was supposed to be, so I couldn't truly miss what I didn't know.

I pulled the luggage cart close, absently hefted my suitcases on the carpeted surface and slowly walked to my single room. As a senior this year, I got my pick of the residence suites, and I chose a top floor end unit, it even had a private water closet.

My favorite part was the alcove with a window seat that looked out onto a small flat rooftop, below. I was sincerely looking forward to having my own outdoor thinking spot, even if it wasn't approved. I was already wondering how I'd get a futon mattress out there without anyone knowing!

The cart had a wobbly wheel and was difficult to navigate down the long hallway. When I unlocked the room, and forced the heavy cart over the sill, the wheel came off and spun away, tipping my cargo off the side like a ship with bad ballast.

The room smelled like old carpet and fresh paint, but I was pleased with the size, and I knew it would be private. Leaving my capsized cart, I immediately propped the windows open using three books from a box that had split open. Breathing in the leafy summer, the hints of asphalt, ozone and metal made a nice counterpoint to the hot green odor.

Flopping down on the bare mattress, I shucked my shoes and wiggled my toes in freedom. Procrastinating the inevitable, I threw one arm over my eyes, and with the other I worried the pendant around my neck.

That first year came rushing back, full of Miko, Ginny, disappointment, loneliness and the realization of truth.

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