Unsuspecting Blessing.

xix

xix

Morning passed with more embrace and fading sorrows as Julia started to temporarily forget about the chaos in her life. Brian walked her to college, and to her class, despite his professor canceling class due to car troubles; for the amount of money people pay to go to any college, an income within reach of a reliable car for professors should be fathomable. She had two classes, both in the morning, math and English, both of which did not challenger her in the ways she hoped for when she signed up for the classes, but she paid nothing to attend college due to her financial circumstance and did not have to get a job for another year to come—one nice thing about getting hit by a car is that despite being eighteen, she does not need to get a job until she is fully able to work which the government does not regularly check up on. Lousy shits, she would have said.

Her math class was the longest of the two, taking an unfortunate two hours of her day. It felt like a penalty being there, in that classroom, because the professor—if she could even be called that—did not teach in a well mannered way. The lessons were bizarre and frantic, and over explained. Fractions confused most people as is, and referring students to a fractional method of solving versus a more practical linear way hurt the education of people who truly struggled in mathematics. If there was one good, solid way of doing something, why change that into a shattered mirror of possibilities on how to solve the equation. Julia signed up for the easier of the two math classes available for first years, doubting herself at the time due to her difficulties in high school math, but the assignments in and out of class felt rudimentary compared to what she learned in all four years of high school.

Thankfully, Julia's English class only lasted an hour. It came after math class, and most people would see that as a downfall and be burnt out by the time English rolled around but Julia saw that as a positive; because the longer time spent in math class compared to the shortened time of English class made her feel like it flew by like trees outside a car window. Though a grateful-for-the-clock sigh still came when the words "alright, and next time!" rang in her ears.

College was one of those experiences that the average person needed to get under their belt at least once in a lifetime whether they enjoy it or not. For high school students it acts like a buried between adult life and childhood, because really until you pay for a mortgage and have overwhelming bills you are a child all the same. For most adults going to college, some for the first time and others for a second or third time—maybe even fourth or fifth—it is to reform or recapture what they miss about being young or do what they should have done all those years ago. College is an occupation. A full time student has their work cut out for them the same as a full time employee, and some people balance both work and school on the same plate. Julia felt glad to not have to take up a job, so she did not have to worry and be deathly afraid of losing what little she had (mainly the apartment she lived in), but college to her was not to stay in her childhood, it was more to start her childhood. Growing up with an abusive foster Mother, a stubborn, argumentative, and quick to violence foster Father, and two shithead foster siblings was enough stress on the body and mind to make a twelve year old seem like a forty-one year old. Stress is like gravity, it makes your back hurt and your skin sag and your brain turns to mush; but in most cases you cannot defy it or ignore it.

Brian arrived at the college shortly after Julia had finished class, and she saw him walking in the entrance of the building as she got down the last step.

He smiled his genuine and full smile at her, "I was almost late!"

"But you weren't and that's what counts."

He seemed reserved to her, but not in a negative way. He still felt approachable.

"So what did you do with all your free time today?" she asked, hoping to spark some conversation and maybe pry out whatever she saw hiding underneath his face.

"Probably less than I should have," he said, "but I saw my Mom and asked her about any possible lawyer friends."

Julia's leg ached quietly; the flames were just embers. But they were quickly extinguished at the thought of legal help. "And?" she asked, trying to ease her excitement.

Brian did not say anything, or rather he looked on the verge of speaking but chose not to. The tip of his tongue always seemed to be inflamed.

"Brian?" she asked, "What is it?"

He puffed a low sigh.  "She does not know anyone—"

"That's okay," Julia said, interrupting.

"But she said that my Dad might."  His last two words were muted, practically unhearable.

"What?" Julia inclined.

"My...Dad might."

Julia did not know why this was a grim topic. Frankly she had assumed his Dad was deceased from the lack of words on the man. She did not try to push Brian to explain himself, nor did she inquire more.

But still, he spoke. "I am going to talk to him," he said.

Julia, despite attempting to rationalize the dark secrets surrounding Mr. Peterson—or at least, that is what she imagined his name to be—she still felt surprised that he was among the living.

"But I just want to let you know," Brian started, "he is not usually apt to help me. I found that out pretty young. So maybe if you come with me, you know, for some reality to wash over him. And," he added, "I don't really want to talk to him alone."

The time had just surpassed one in the afternoon by the time Julia and Brian arrived at the apartment; since Brian had spoken with his Mother earlier, and for quite a while as he informed her, he would be yet again staying through the night. The feeling aroused Julia with excitement, but she pleaded herself for modesty. When they stepped inside, Brian opted to make a late lunch for the both of them.

"That sounds nice," Julia said, noticing not a single dirty dish in the sink. Warmness rose in her chest and thumped heavy in her heart. She stepped into her bedroom, sideways so as to avoid smacking her crutches against the wooden frame, and took swift notice of a change in the atmosphere. A spring-like scent had taken hold of her nose momentarily. The fragrance was light, almost cool, and nearly unnoticeable. If she were to put the smell into corresponding colors, she would say green; dark green, and a vibrant yellow to add a certain fairness to the opaque green. She placed her bag down on her bed, and sat with a soft thump. From across the room, she saw the proprietor. A handful of daffodils sat in the pot that used to hold the snowdrops, and they gazed at her with their singular yellow eyes that dotted the middle of the white petals on each flower. She stood up, like her leg had never been injured, and hobbled over to her dresser making sure to catch the top of it to aid her standing. Julia took a deep breath in, and all the flowers leaned towards her. From the other side of the room, the Sun dawned an orange glow into the window and it showed upon the white flowers, giving the flora a phoenix-like color briefly before being swept away by an outside, shadowing tree.

Brian approached the doorway, and leaned on the frame.

"Did you get these?" she asked, still taking in the thin and airy scent.

"Yes," he said, "you told me your snowdrops died after you came back from the hospital, and I saw these in the flower shop over by—" but before he could finish Julia already had wrapped her arms around his neck to hold herself up while embracing him.

A kiss was shared. "Thank you," she said, "thank you."