The Voice of my Soul

He Calls Me Love

Saturday morning came early. Today I had scheduled an appointment with the president of the college to discuss my travel plans and sign some paperwork for temporary transfer in the Fall.

I bounded out of bed around 8, and went straight to the shower. Thankfully, the medications helped with subduing my headaches greatly. Moving around in the morning wasn't a problem anymore.

I decided to wear my favorite jean capris, with some white converse shoes, and a graphic print tank.

I pulled my damp hair up in a top knot and finished the style with a black head band. I was going for comfortable and cute.

"You leaving already?" Mom asked, as I raced down to the kitchen and stuffed a piece of toast in my mouth. "Yup!" I replied muffledly. "Gotta go meet President Bently at 10. Can't be late." I swigged down a small glass of orange juice and headed out the door.

As I arrived in the school parking lot, a million butterflies landed in my stomach. I was incredibly nervous. And the swelling toast and orange juice didn't help the situation either. I still couldn't believe I had been chosen to study abroad. I really wanted to go to England, but I knew that option may have been taken by one of the other two students above me.

I quickly made my way up the stairs and towards the president's office. I had only met him once or twice before, but only briefly. Just a polite, "Hello, how are you?" was the extent of our conversation. My knees were shaking profusely as my shoes clopped down the hallway.

I was the only person in sight as I knocked on his door. A friendly, "Come in!" was the only thing I heard. I slowly opened the big, oak door, which revealed a smiling man on the other side.

President Bently was a short, round man with a smile as big as Dallas. He was almost completely balled, except for some hair around the side. Quite honestly, he reminded me a lot of Vizzini in "The Princess Bride." I wanted to laugh at the comparison, but ignored the impulse.

He pointed at the leather chair in front of his desk and offered for me to take a seat. I gladly obliged him. My knees hadn't stopped shaking, and sitting down was a welcomed idea.

"So, Ms. Chapman," he began, "I'm sure you are quite excited about this opportunity! Congratulations on your hard work." I blushed at his kind words. "Thank you, sir." I quietly replied as my eyes darted to my shoes. I hate complements.

"Well, let us begin, shall we?" His smile was full of kindness and warmth. I nodded my head in agreement.

He proceeded to pull out a large amount of paperwork for me to start reading and signing. "But before you do that," he abruptly chuckled, "I think you need to tell me where you want to go?" My heart skipped a beat at his question.

"Uhm... what options are still available?" Just those words leaving my mouth felt so unnatural and strange.

Mr. Bently smiled as he leaned back in his seat. He reached for a folder on the corner of his desk. As he flipped the cover open, he slid the folder towards me.

I leaned forward in my chair to see a list of city names- in other countries.

I quickly looked back at him. "Are these t-t-them?" I wanted to slap myself for stuttering. He laughed. "Yes, those are your options! Choose whichever one you want."

I pulled the folder into my lap and began to read off the city names.

Rome, Italy

Madrid, Spain

Paris, France

That was it. No England or Greece.

I knew the odds of London being left on the list were very slim, but I was still disappointed.

"You wanted England, didn't you?"

My eyes bolted back to Mr. Bently. His smile was mischievous.

"I saw the look in your eyes." He leaned back in his large chair. "It was the same look the second student had in his eyes when he saw London had already been chosen." I smiled politely at his remark.

That's one skill I had never mastered: hiding my feelings with my facial expressions.

"Yeah," I let out an uneasy chuckle, as I rubbed the back of my neck, "It doesn't matter though. I'm just grateful for this opportunity." My eyes returned back to the folder as I began reading different facts about each school. Questions began to flood the air as I inquired about each one.

About 30 minutes into our meeting, I had decided which college suited me best.

"Spain it is!" Mr Bently's voice rang out. "Good choice."

"Well," I nervously added, "I still know a little bit of Spanish from high school, and I love sunny places." It was so obvious I was still disappointed about England. But, oh well! I'm going to travel to another country, which is awesome in there of itself.

After we had finalized most of the paperwork and decision making, I stood to leave.

I thanked Mr. Bently for his time and again, he congratulated me on my achievements.

"We are so proud of you, Ashley. You are putting out a good name for this school. You will do great!" I blushed at his kind words.

I bid him a final thank you and goodbye, and stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me. I sighed a heavy breath.

As I began the trek back down to the parking lot, my phone began to vibrate.

My heart stopped when I read the message.

"Hey love, this is Jase. You still alive lol?"

I had totally forgotten about him. Completely. Entirely. My breathing noticeably became deeper as my thoughts raced for a response. He probably had no idea all that had happened to me this past week, after leaving the hospital. He would definitely be concerned if I told him.

I pushed my phone back into my pocket as I continued to walk out of the school. I would have to conjure up a response later. My head was beginning to throb. It was past time for my second dose of medication. I needed to get home while I could still drive.

But, even as I was driving, one thought continued to press my mind.

"Did he really call me... Love?"