LOVE LEAH

C H A P T E R 1| C A P + G O W N

Okay...

-You might want to sit down for this one-

Four years of high school had come and gone, and my life was going absolutely according to plan.

–At least on paper anyway–

I mean, come September, I'd be on the engineering track at the University of Chicago. Then in four years, I'd be in medical school. After that, I'd spend another four years in residency. My parents were absolutely thrilled because you know, they've basically had my life planned out for me since I was conceived in-vitro.

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

The pointed corners of my graduation cap dug into my fingertips as I revolved it with my thumbs, and my eyes fell into a trance. It was almost like I was in deep contemplation about something, but there was nothing to contemplate. Like I said before, my life was already etched out for me, and I was on the precipice of doing what I've always done.

–Which was listen to my parents–

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

I was standing there in the school gymnasium, waiting for my name to be called when reality finally sunk its teeth into me. I realized that I spent all four years busting my ass just to secure another four years of ass busting. And as quickly as those four years had come and gone, so had every opportunity I had just to be a kid.

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

"You'll never be as young as you are right now," My principal said in her speech. "Enjoy it, and take advantage of the world that's at your fingertips." It was like she was taunting me or something, and I wondered, if this was true, how come all I felt was complete and utter dread and hopelessness? I mean, this was it, right? This was the beginning of my life.

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

Everyone around me was actually looking forward to their lives, but all I felt was suffocated by the predictability of my choices.

I was also suffocated by the honor cords that hung around my graduation gown in recognition of my accomplishments...

And... suffocated by the fake smile I wore when my face was turning blue from my parents smothering me. I don't know. I guess I was finally starting to gag and choke over my seeming perfection, and this perfect life I was set to have.

–this straight, uneventful, and unfulfilling, lonely life–

It's hard to describe, and maybe privileged to say, but I didn't want it, any of it.

"Leah, Randolph." The principal called my name. There it was. That fake smile I'm sure is on film somewhere as I walked across the stage.

My parents were thrilled in the bleachers, which was an understatement of their ecstatic shrills. I walked off the stage to a standing ovation that was faint, and faded almost as quickly as it had started.

–Was I the only person petrified of a faint ovation? –

Another standing ovation promptly picked up when the next person's name was called, only louder.

–nice–

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

After the ceremony, Noah Thomson, who was the only friend I ever had since I was twelve, came and stood by me. He had these big and deep milk chocolate eyes, and he awkwardly towered over people. His face was unconventionally handsome, asymmetrical, and he was the complete opposite of me.

–Truthfully, sometimes it was like we were the same person–

"So I guess this is it," he stated with words that seemed like the kind of blunt force trauma associated with change. "We did it."

"Yeah, I guess we did," I answered with my diploma tucked under my arm and my yearbook in my hands.

I was watching everyone around me. All these people I didn't know, and never would know, saying their goodbyes. It was sad.

"Who are all these people?" I asked Noah. "It's like, we've spent four years with them, and I don't even know who they are," I brought my diploma and yearbook to my chest.

"How come we never gave ourselves the chance to know them?" I asked, hoping he'd give me the right answer. Noah always had the right answers somewhere shoved in his brain.

–most of the times–

"I honestly wouldn't beat yourself up about it," He reassured, "I mean, in all fairness, it's not like they ever gave themselves a chance to get to know us either."

"Do you think maybe that's our fault?" I asked as his eyes lingered back and forth between my brown eyes and my yearbook.

"No, I just think we were all on different paths that never crossed," Noah stated as my father's voice called me towards our car. "Hi, Mr. Randolph"

My father gestured a riffled hand roll.

"They're taking me out to dinner." My eyes rolled skyward as I slowly stepped away from Noah.

"That's nice," he commented, "At least they're trying. My father's on a business trip, and my mother is, well, I don't know where she is." He answered as he looked around.

"I'm sorry. You know I'd invite you but-" my lips slant open.

"But your father doesn't like me. I know," He concluded with the sentence I didn't want to finish.

–My father didn't like him for any other reason other than the fact that he was a boy–

"But I'll call you later?" I smiled.

"Yeah," the corners of his mouth turned up as his eyes rolled. "Oh, hey," he called out before I could get too far. "Can I borrow your yearbook?"

"For what?" I asked self-conscious of each page that was lacking a signature.

"I want to sign it." He said as he grabbed it.

"Oh, no. You don't have to do that. It's pointless," my face crinkled in hesitation. "I mean, I see you every day."

"I know. But I want to," he shifted his body away from mine as I tried to grab it back. "And besides, when college starts, I'll be halfway across the country, in Boston, and you'll be here."

"Thanks for reminding me of that," my brows raised as my father's voice grew seemingly more impatient. "I'm coming," I yell out. "So what, are you trying to haunt me with your words or something?"

"No, I can do that over the phone," his pen lingered in a space between my yearbook. "Do you mind if I hold onto this for a while?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, sure," I answered at his fixed concentration. I don't know how, but it was like he knew I needed him to sign it. I started to walk towards my father's impatience and then quickly pivoted back towards Noah. "Hey?"

"Yeah?" Noah answered.

"Do you want to do something later?"

"Like what?" He asked

"I don't know. Go somewhere. Anywhere. I just don't really feel like being home." I say as my eyes pivot back and forth between him and my parent's car.

"Okay," He grinned. "Seven o'clock?"

"Yeah," I smiled as I quickly ran towards the honk of my father's horn. "I'm coming," I yell.

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆