Eleanor and Park The Sequel: Don't Pass Me By

Chapter 2

eleanor

            Eleanor awkwardly hugged Aunt Susan and Uncle Geoff goodbye at the door to her room, and watched them walk down the hall and into the elevator.   As the elevator doors dinged shut she felt a rush of emotion that they had been kind enough to drive her in the first place.  Now that they had left, she felt a mixture of relief and nerves.  Relief that she no longer had to keep up a smiling face so that her aunt wouldn't worry, but nervous for an abundance of reasons that she couldn’t even begin to describe.  Whatever, she thought.  I’ve been on my own in more ways than one before now.  She steeled herself against whatever adversity was coming her way, slung her duffel bag onto her shoulder, and entered her room.

            Dorms at North, hers anyways, weren’t the way she had imagined, at least so far.  She had been expecting an uncomfortable face-off with her roommate (Michelle, who had yet to arrive), regarding who would get the ‘good’ bed, and who would get the bed that occupied an uncomfortable corner beneath a dank, barred window.  However, the room was surprisingly pleasant, although unremarkable.  It was spacious, first of all, and both beds were beneath a big window that let in the warm sunlight.  There was a small closet on either side of the door, and there was a decent sized desk at the foot of each bed.

After a moment of hesitation, Eleanor randomly chose the bed to the left, and began sorting through her clothes, folding them and placing them in the small dresser that doubled as a nightstand.  She would leave the closet situation for now, as that would involve having clothes hangers, which she had been too embarrassed to ask her aunt and uncle to buy.  They had already been so generous, when her earnings from her part time job at the Hog Shack hadn’t quite covered her necessities for school.  They had paid for her textbooks before her scholarship arrived so that she could do her readings for her advanced courses over the summer; and her aunt had come home with bags of supplies and decorations that she would need for her room.  She could easily do without hangers for now, and when she figured out the details of her scholarship, she would deal with minor details and expenses. 

Eleanor mentally reminded herself to figure out where the student union building was on the map and go down to pick up her meal pass and sign for her funding when she felt a little more settled. 

            After her clothes were unpacked, Eleanor jammed her empty duffel bag under the bed and began unpacking some of her personal items and books onto the shelf.  She glanced at the door from time to time, feeling self-conscious about the bubbly voices and girly conversations she could hear taking place outside in the hallway.  From what she could hear, most girls on her floor had parents with them to help bring in their things and get settled.  Mothers fussing, and fathers giving daddy’s little girl one last hug before they set them free.  Eleanor swallowed hard and tried to squelch the feeling that she was an impostor, just a poor girl with no parents to speak of, who didn’t belong here with these scholars.  Kids from fancy prep schools who probably hailed from a long line of college-educated scholars.  Eleanor was certainly the first person in her family to go to college at all, let alone a high-ranking university outside of Nebraska on a full scholarship.  While part of her swelled with pride at this idea, there was a small voice in her head that felt ashamed of her dysfunctional family.

            Eleanor paused as she came to her shoebox of keepsakes.  The thought of some of the memories associated with these items (Richie, and his house for the most part) made her shudder, but she went through the box from time to time nonetheless.  Her old, now broken Walkman, a few old tapes, worn out batteries, her acceptance letter to North, a picture of her younger brother Ben that she had kept stuffed in a wallet, and a postcard. 

            Warm, tingly feelings rose in Eleanor’s throat as she saw the postcard, and she wasn’t sure if she would cry or laugh.  She had forgotten it was there.  She hadn’t thought of Park in a long time.  Of course, at first Park was all Eleanor could think about.  Memories of his face, his eyes, his smell, his taste in music, his sense of humour, had haunted her.  Her willpower against his many letters and attempts to see her had finally crumbled.  When she sent him the postcard, saying what she had, she had been so consumed with homesickness, Parksickness, that she had actually started to think it could work with the two of them.  She had realized quickly how unrealistic these thoughts would be.  And realized that if she were this devastated and irrational after a few months of being in love with him, how crazy she would go when he inevitably left her months or years ahead.  Eleanor had regretted sending the postcard as soon as she had dropped it in the mailbox.  Not because she didn’t mean what she had said, but because she had meant it so much.  On top of every other embarrassing thing Park knew about her family, she knew then that he knew too much of her heart as well.  It made her feel completely exposed.  Raw and vulnerable.  She had vowed to move on, outwardly, if not inwardly.  So, when his postcard had come in reply, she had not responded.  She looked at the back of the postcard again now.  Just nine words in his artistic scrawl:

“I love you too.  When can I see you?”

            When it had arrived, she had put it in the box immediately.  Park had sent other letters after that again too.  She had thrown them away without reading. Once, she even thought she heard the rumble of the Impala on their quiet suburban street.  She had, almost involuntarily, smoothed her hair and waited for the doorbell to ring, but it hadn’t.  Instead she heard a car rumble down the street and fade to silence, leaving her feeling foolish and embarrassed at her overeagerness.  After that, she hadn’t heard from Park at all.  Eleanor had thrown herself into her studies, joined the school trivia team, and applied for every part time job and babysitting gig she could get.  Surprisingly, it had actually helped dull the sharp edges of Park and all the other painful memories she held on to from Omaha.  After prom, Eleanor had even had a glass of champagne at Jamie’s party and kissed one of her trivia teammates, Jon.  It certainly wasn’t the same as Park’s passionate kisses, but at the time she hadn’t compared the two.  She had felt glad to be on the cusp of a new adventure and indebted to nobody but herself.

            The sad/happy/warm/tingly feelings mingled together in the back of her throat as she gingerly held the postcard in her hands.  It had been so long now that she could think fondly about Park and all he had done for her.  Even his parents had been sweet, in the end.  She would forever be thankful that they had helped her escape Richie.  But now, now was a time for new beginnings.   Eleanor took a breath and ripped the postcard into tiny pieces until they were too small to rip anymore.  On second thought, she placed her acceptance letter and the photograph of Ben on her bed, and shoved the entire contents of the old shoebox into a garbage bag along with the ripped up postcard.  New beginnings, she told herself.

            Taking another deep breath, and giving herself a shake, Eleanor pulled on her ripped jean jacket and combat boots, grabbed her satchel, and headed out in search of the student union building and hopefully, something to eat.