On the edge of everything

Part 10

On Monday morning, I enter SC around 7:30 as I always do. I am walking towards Senior hall when Samantha jumps from behind a pillar, grabbing my arm.

"Samantha?!" I exclaim, shouting and questioning. She drags me up the stairs despite my repeated attempts to convince her that I am able to follow her without the tug of my sleeve. We make it to the cafeteria where I find Elena sitting with a bottle of sparkling cider and three soup bowls. I try to connect the dots but Samantha assists me.

"As you might recall, we started a tradition a few months ago. We said that each time one of us gets accepted to the college of our dreams, we will toast. Hence, the 'champagne'," she raises her fingers in quotes around the last word. "So, despite the somewhat rocky times that we are going through," she grabs the bottle from Elena as the two of us avoid eye contact, intent on memorizing every feature of Samantha's nose. "We will toast to Mila for getting accepted into NYU. And, even more excitingly, we will toast that she will be able to go!" she shrieks in excitement as she looks around the table for a bottle opener.

"Elena," she asks, "Where is the bottle opener?" Elena raises her eyebrows and gestures to the table, insinuating that there evidently is no bottle opener.

"I guess we'll have to improvise," I walk over and grab the bottle from her hands. I go to the blue counter that borders the room and situate the bottle's metal top at the edge. I hold my water bottle up and let it crash down on the bottle. Despite the tension, Elena can't resist laughing at the bang that echoes throughout the third floor. Samantha, an initially shocked expression painted on her face, bursts out laughing after a hesitation to ensure that no teacher has come running to investigate the cause of the ruckus. They usher me to continue, slowly cracking the top off of the bottle to the slight damage of both my water bottle and the countertop, and to the great amusement of the three of us.

At the final clang of metal against metal, the foam of the sparkling cider explodes out of the bottle, about to go towards the floor when I hastily maneuver it over the large grey trash can.

"Hurry, give me the cups," I point towards the cafeteria's soup bowls masquerading as cups, which Elena quickly places on the counter. I grab each bowl and fill each with the still-erupting cider.

Once the bowls are filled and the cider's explosion has ceased, we stand in a circle holding our bowls out. "To Mila," Samantha says, "For getting into New York University and for getting to go! Ahh!" she exclaims, jumping slightly, causing her cider to spill. When we toasted Samantha in december, two brief speeches were given, but now we 'clink' bowls after only the first. I down my cider as if it were true alcohol to be consumed in a dull moment, and we part ways at the bell's ring. Elena and I, while willfully participating in the ritual, do not directly address each other once in those several minutes. Part of me wonders if we will even do this the third and final time for Elena.

On the second Friday of shows, we follow suit in the tradition of the seniors having dinner together off campus while the rest of the cast eats together in the cafeteria. Vien, having eaten most of her tech week meals with me and Samantha, dramatically waves goodbye as we go towards the streetcar to take us to the waterfront.

Though it wasn't discussed, everyone is dressed nearly as nicely as we were last friday for opening night. Today, however, rather than wearing the navies and burgundys of winter, we all sport the pale colors of early spring. The sun is out today, making the air light and free of the mist that tends to cloud it. It's nearly 60 degrees; in Portland early March that means that no one is wearing a coat or even a sweater.

As we ride the streetcar the eight stops to the restaurant, I see more carefree smiles from everyone than I have seen since last fall. From November on so many seniors are filled with stress and anxiety. Then, suddenly, it's all out of our hands. And for myself as well as some others, the decision is made. That is why, on this beautiful day, I don't have a care in the world. It is quite a magnificent feeling, let me tell you.