Don't Forget to Write

A Farewell

The next night Bruno, Diane, Karen, and Moose joined me in wishing Camila safe travels. We went where all things were celebrated and mourned, where memories were shared and lost – the bar. We sat in our usual stools drinking and talking about our finals and our futures, or what we hoped the future would be. I stayed quiet, letting the old people talk. Bruno was excited to graduate and enter the real world. Moose was still figuring his life out, but wondering if a soccer coaching career could get him far. Camila had fallen in love with education, and wanted to become a full-time teacher. She was proud to enlighten the minds of the youth and all that crap that you hear educators say. I was proud of her for being so devoted to something that was valuable to society. And, in a way, proud of myself for being attached to somebody who was so put-together, so organized in their life and confident in their place in the world. Camila had her shit together, something I didn't understand, and feared I never would. "Although," Camila said to the group of us. She had just been talking about the life of a TA during finals week. "There was something weird this semester. Someone that was trying to ruin the academic system."

"What do you mean?" Moose asked.

"Apparently there was a person who was writing papers for money. Some students came forward to the administration about it. I don't know all of the details, but whoever this person is seems to have had a larger impact than we expected. So now administrators have asked a lot of teachers to collect all papers that received higher than an 85% and submit them to the office for analysis. Hopefully they'll find something to track back to the perp."

"The Perp," Moose repeated, excited and entranced by the mystery. "That's some serious CSI shit!"

I sunk low in my chair, drank beer, and pretended to be interested in what was playing on TV... a rugby match. I don't know the first thing about rugby, but in that moment, to avoid being involved in the discussion, and possibly selling my guilty self out, I was the biggest fanatic the sport ever had. My business was now leaking into my personal life. Not only did I have to constantly grapple with the impending consequences of possible expulsion if my operation was discovered by the authorities of the college, but now I had to worry about my girlfriend, perhaps one of the best things to happen to me in recent months, leaving me for my act of despicable disenfranchisement of the academic system she held so dear. Karen leaned over and whispered in my ear "stop freaking out."

"I'm not freaking out."

"Your fingers are tapping, your eyes are darting, and I think I see sweat on your forehead." I wiped my head with a napkin, my fingers rising as they passed along my scar, now fully healed but still hideous. I pulled my beanie on. "She has no idea it's you. And would you stop hiding that scar? Just let it be. It's a part of you. It looks tough."

I sat up, trying not to smile. Moose, apparently forgot that the criminal mastermind was sitting two stools away from him. He continued to ask questions. "Do you think they'll catch the person? Do they think it's a student?"

"It'll be easier to catch them if they are a student, but we aren't sure. Honestly, if what they're saying is true about how many papers this person wrote, I doubt it could have been a student. It must be a few graduates with time on their hands and good connections, starting one of those essay writing businesses."

Bruno, the saint of a man that he is, changed the topic. "How about this trip you're going on Camila? Are you excited to get out of this cold hell-hole of New York or what? Where are you going while you're down there?" I nodded him a silent thanks, and my heart, which I hadn't realized was beating so rapidly, slowed down.

"Yeah! I'm starting in this beautiful coastal city called Cartagena, then I'll backpack to a few areas around the coast before going down to Bogota to see my cousins. From there my plans are a bit looser, but I think I'll continue backpacking North into this mountain town called Minca and all around that area for a week before returning to Cartagena to get back to the states."