Cloudy Campus Days

New year. Same shit.

Espen Baker, Jan 2nd, 2025

It was easy to hate her. After all she dumped me. I've never been someone short of anger, but I rarely experience the good kind. The kind that leaves you driving your dad's 2001 Ford truck, listening to faction punk, and screaming lyrics with a smile on your face. It felt good to know it was the most exciting thing happening in my town. 

The side of Lansing, Michigan my mom's job led us wasn't exactly a sight to see. I used to think the best thing here was Rose, but now she'd look better under my tires.

The feeling I felt wasn't excited, or connected, or any of the bullshit Duncan and the guys at church talk about. It was more like the anger I mistook for strength and masculinity. Like the feeling my dad would get holding guns he didn't own at the shooting range, or the satisfaction after winning arguments with Rose. Some would call it fleeting. I say enjoy it while it lasts.

Mom can't complain about the music. Rose can't tell me I need to work on myself. No women could nag at me right now if they tried. I don't exactly have to worry about my dad, given all I have from him are some concerning memories is this very truck. Normally thinking about it makes me sad, but in this moment, I just feel bad ass.

I laugh a bit too loud after driving by Edgemont Park. Funny name. I wonder what dumbasses are walking down those trails, pretending to be fascinated with those dying trees in the middle of winter. They probably think they have their whole lives figured out and are so much better than someone like me. I would know because sometimes, in those short moments I think I've fixed everything, I feel superior too. 

My ugly puffy snow jacket and crocs with Michigan State socks underneath look a lot better in those moments. Suddenly, the high drifts away. It's time to change the playlist and go home.

Everyone from my mom to a prostitute, to the last living member of a band I created in my head would think my life is pitiful. Maybe there's something to holding a gun. Some people look just as fulfilled with vlog cameras and guitars in their palms. I'm the bad guy. Rose loved to say that. 

I bet Rose could use my help in Math right now. She probably guessed infinity on Friday's homework. Infinity. 

"I feel infinite"

Rose used to say that. Apparently, it was from some book about a mental kid. All those thoughts just happened in the past 10 seconds. Or was it a minute. How does it feel to be important.

I need to turn Faction Punk back on. Before I crash this fucking car.

This Ford isn't important to me because of my dad. It's the height it gives me above the road, the way I feel above everything else, yet nothing can get to me when I drive it. I'm not nobody, at least not to myself. Things matter.

Rose Jan 2, 2025.

When I woke up this morning the first breath I took came with a rush of peace.

No "How many hearts did he send this morning" or "does he care like he did last week."

I didn't have to wait for him to text me after school until I could go on. Who would've thought my new life would start on a random Thursday.

Until I looked in the mirror. And I compared the color of my eyes to his online girlfriend up in Canada. The one that 'meant nothing.' Well, maybe he'll feel something now. 

Now that he doesn't have my kisses, my affection, the comfort of 'at least someone likes me.' Maybe that's all he was searching for. So much for a life partner. That's why breaking up exists.

That's why you can be sitting after-school in a Dunkin donut you didn't want to go to and just leave. My Dad told me I should never break up with someone in a public setting, but I didn't know what he would do if we were alone. 

I desperately wanted a coffee, but I had the feeling Espen would be driving around that part of town. The part with stuff other than dying trees. I could picture him sitting in that same booth alone, glazed donut sitting in front of him, trying to make a statement. 

I rushed into a Starbucks, planning to get a drink and run out when I saw a beautiful girl sitting in a table close to the line. Her blonde bangs were tucked behind her ears, revealing pink air pods.

"What are you listening to?" I asked awkwardly like a distant uncle at a family reunion.

"Just some Radiohead. You know Ok Computer? You look like you would." she smirked.

I stood there racking my brain trying not to look at her tan legs and considering if this was a joke.

"All I mean is you look a little off. You can sit here entertain me with what's going on."

She felt better than me, but not in a mean way. Like she was a mentor.

"My ex-boyfriend is a loser. I finally blocked him." I laughed.

"Oh yeah I heard it was that Espen mullet guy," she tried not to laugh at me, "wait sit down I need to hear about this."

"How do you know us?" I questioned as I took the chair across from her.

"Uh you go to my school."

There was no way. This girl looked at least 22 there is no way. She looks like supermodel and she's still sitting in desks learning AP calculus? I hadn't mustered up a response when I realized I had been staring at her for much too long. And then the door slammed shut.

"Rose it's so good to see you."

"You too Ms. Baker," I said in my high-pitched nervous voice. The only voice Espen's mom would recognize from me.

"No way you have an older friend!" the blonde girl laughed, "she was just gonna tell me about this crazy-"

"I better get going I have so much homework." I spoke so jumbled I was surprised anyone understood me.

"Too bad it's not math, might be the only thing my boy is good at!" Ms. Baker sighed.

The blonde choked back laughter, and I could tell she was putting the pieces together in her mind. Smart girl. I wasn't smooth like her.

I sprinted out of that Starbucks as fast as humanly possible.