Everything I Ask For » clifford, hemmings, hood, & irwin

15. michael & catherine

michael & cat // "Babe, I'm always gonna be an asshole."

Evaluate the following limits as they approach three and determine if they exist or not.

That was all the instructions read; a statement, though completely logical to the masses, incomprehensible to me. Of course it was followed by a bunch of numbers and parentheses and variables that were mushed together to form functions but it all just looked like straight up Mandarin to me.

AP Calculus was my worst class and, may I carefully mind you, I never had a worst class. I already had gotten 70s and 60s on all the homeworks and a 68 on the review quiz I had taken the first week of class. I hadn't told anyone about my miserable excuses of grades because no one in the pending Newport Beach vicinity could know that I, Catherine May Adams, was nearly failing a class that I had just started. I could only think of a few thing more embarrassing scenarios to reveal to the general public than that and one of them had been close to actually happening Friday night.

It wasn't like my calculus homework normally made sense ever, but as I sat on my less than comfy twin bed that Tuesday afternoon with a thick packet of worksheets that might as well been typed out in Swahili on my lap, everything seemed ten times harder than normal. Partly because my head hadn't stopped pounding with thoughts, emotions, and unspoken words that needed to be said since Friday. One would honestly think four days passing by since it all happened would make a person feel a hell of a lot less shitty, but think again.

The days went by and I knew he was looking for me. I didn't have to see him to know that he was. On Monday, someone on the NCA morning news crew told me an emo looking kid had stopped by during announcements to talk to me but turned him away since only news crew personnel were allowed inside. I knew he would be waiting outside the building once the first bell rang so I exited out the back door to avoid him. I figured he would show up at the library during our free period hoping to find me at my table, so I had retreated to my room strategically during that time. I figured if there was one place he couldn't find it was Room 314. Tucked away on the third floor of Kendall, only a NCA expert could find this room. I felt safe here, safe from the confrontation that I frankly knew deep down was entirely inevitable.

It was completely safe to say my mind was completely elsewhere as I trekked across this mountain that was my AP Calc homework. I started to grow increasingly hot from my lack of calculus knowledge, rambling thoughts, and Kendall's notorious shit air conditioning and began fanning myself with my math binder as I attempted to get back to my work. I was on #3 after thirty minutes of mindless attempting; my progress was riveting.

It was around 3 PM and I had finished my classes for the day so decided to start my homework back at the room. Sarah and Courtney hadn't arrived back to the room yet so I assumed Sarah was working and Courtney was doing something utterly unproductive like she did every day. So when I heard a curt knock on the coming from the main door to our suite right as my pencil touched the page to delve into the problem, I knew who it was.

And it sure as hell wasn't Court or Sarah.

I debated staying stoic where I was, to just allow myself to rot into the hell that was my homework and never get up from my position. But something in me demanded I raise from the bed and open the fucking door. What that something was I had no clue, but I hated it just like I hated him. I hated what he (almost) did. I didn't want to see his face because it would just rehash the bubbling anger I had furiously attempted to tuck away over the last four days.

More than anything, I hated the part of me that felt bad for him. He had some snarky assholes come in and destroy his stuff; anyone would be angry. But I didn't want to make excuses for him. Excuses are just open unneeded doors that will lead to you to suddenly find yourself in a life that you are okay living, but in no way happy with.