Harvard Boy

Fall semester.

Days seemed malignant. Time seemed lost. She went on, as a ship would do in the midst of a storm. Feeling the waves, the destruction, impacting every source of stability she had.

His voice would come to her on dreary nights. Would creep up slowly, then all at once.

Sometimes she'd scream out his name, other times she'd gasp for air in the outbreak of a nightmare. Her instincts, her vitals- relied on the notion of reality.

It's going to be okay. She'd tell herself- on the most painful of hours. We'll be okay. She'd whisper to her growing stomach.

The summer was chocked full of emotional tolls. Her father yelling, Harry constantly trying to get in contact, Sam accepting her pregnancy. She'd emailed him a few months back, explaining her choice of adoption. Telling him how ashamed she was, how sorry.

It brought something inside of her out, something monstrous and alive. Taking over her smile, her light- and replacing it with solemn looks, and sorrowful eyes.

She'd hear his laugh echo against the silence of her walls, would remember his touch. And all she could do, was close her eyes- let it pass.

Because crying became exhausting, and forgetting became impossible. She continued on.

It wasn't until she hadn't spoken to him in months, that she understood why people used narcotics. Understood her father's dependency on alcohol. Understood real pain. She used to not to- she used to believe in overcoming.
Something pure, something optimistic. But life had shown her the affects of living, and never would she question that again.

Love didn't kill her, watching it slip out of her hands did. The idea of it, wasn't unrealistic, but it was for her. She had to keep that, accept it...carry it.

The days she had hope though, the ones that made her colder exterior warmer- Were balled up in watching her father play poker, at the rehab clinic she'd visit him in; feeling her child kick for the first time; and knowing she had a friend in Sam. They got her through. They made her strong.

So as time reluctantly moved on, so did she. The summer was winding to an end. Her fall semester is right around the corner, and her stomach was heavy with life and significance.

The fall term of her sophomore year was daunting, especially since everyday she got closer to her due date- She felt tired, and disinclined to her future.

Taking one step at a time on campus. Meeting her advisor, and transferring to online classes until the adoption was final- became somewhat of a relief.

Victoria's father felt it'd be best to be at home on such confusing terms. She, being the one who continually told him I don't want to talk about it. Knew with time, she'd grow to have an explanation for him. She'd grow to help him understand. Though, now, he feels she needs her own space.

He was right.

The smell, the lighting, even the paintings- gave Victoria an over abundance of nostalgia. It's as if she could feel him through the air, she could picture him in the foyer, see him walking towards her now. A worried expression on his face.

It was as if Harvard was mocking her, with the boy they claimed, the boy she loved.

But she realizes, in the uneasiness of her thoughts, that it's not an image she'd created. Not another stereotypical daydream.

It was him, in the flesh. Moving swiftly toward her, face contorted, eyes heavy- shock clear.

"Victoria?"

(Eeeeekkkk 😝 it's still Friday where I live, sorry it's kinda late!)