Second Lanark

First Impressions - Part 1

Late August 1997

I came up the second flight of stairs in the Lanark residence with a bag on my back, a suitcase trailing behind one hand, and the other hand clutching a desk lamp that I wasn't sure I wanted or needed. My parents lingered behind me on the stairs radiating a nervous energy that I couldn't let myself feel. I glanced over my shoulder when I put my foot on the top stair.

"You guys okay back there?"

"Yep. Just trying to keep all your stuff together." My mom sounded cheery, a false brightness that I noticed, but didn't acknowledge. In one of her hands was the extra cordless phone from our house, ready to plug in whenever we got a phone line in our room.

Tears welled up at the thought of not seeing them every day and not being able to hear their voice whenever I wanted for the next week or so. I took a few, deep, steadying breaths and willed myself to get it together. I wouldn't cry in front of all these strangers.

The halls were bustling as people were moving around us up and down the stairs. Lanark wasn't the newest or oldest residence on campus. Neutral shades of taupe and hospital green seemed to be the décor of choice for this building. I counted myself lucky that I'd landed somewhere in the middle. Lanark was centrally located on campus, unlike the newer residence buildings which were on the outskirts and required a longer walk to get just about anywhere.

When I crossed through the doorway to the second floor, a petite, dark-haired, dark-skinned woman thrust out her hand and her white teeth caught the artificial lights overhead.

"I'm Mishti. And you are?"

I dropped my suitcase to shake her hand. "Elizabeth."

She pulled papers out from underneath her one arm and rifled through her lists. "Okay, here we are. You're in 216." She started down the hall, not waiting to see if we'd follow. We were only three or four doors down from the main entrance when she stopped.

I peeked in the door. It was so small. Two twin beds were pushed up along white walls forming a line, a double sided desk, and a couple of desk chairs were the only things in the room. I turned to look back at my parents who were smiling encouragingly. I dropped all of my stuff in the entryway, and walked into the room, looking around. My roomie had already taken the back half of the room, which left me with the bed closest to the door. I wished I'd gotten there earlier.

Mishti stood in the doorway, leaning against one arm. "Your roommate's name is Patricia. She's around here somewhere. She seems nice."

I wondered whether anyone seemed not that nice on their first day here.

"Great," I said, not sure if I meant it.

Patricia. I really hoped she didn't shorten her name to Patty or all I'd be able to think about was meat patties. That would not be a good start.

My parents, both short like me, were standing behind Mishti, looking a little uncertain, as if maybe they wanted to kidnap me and run back home.

"If you need anything, I'm just down in 220. I'll let you get settled in. I'm the Residential Don on this floor, though. So, if you ever need anything, advice, if there are roommate troubles," she glanced behind her to my parents, "or if you're homesick -- anything, I'm here to help."

"Thanks. That's great, really," I said.

I'd needed to get away from my small town, my small life, and Ottawa had felt far, but not so far that I'd never be able to go home again. My last year of high school had been an absolute disaster, and whenever I thought about it, I felt a little queasy.