Illusion of Choice
Everyone complained that Thanksgiving break was far too short, but I was happy to be back. However, after another week with no word from Holly, the feelings of excitement turned sour.
I wandered through one of the many school courtyards. Snow swirled around me, cold and chaotic. Beautiful to observe, but biting to be a part of. Other students wandered past, heads bent against the wind. The cold didn’t bother me much anymore, but I remembered how it felt. Each flake like a small knife made of ice, slashing as they flew by. Now, I stood numb in the midst it all.
Like most of life, even this small inconvenience seemed to have lost its meaning. Why study for school if I could pick up a book and learn a subject in a week? Why go to class when I could learn everything the professor had to say by reading said book? And if this school had nothing for me, why stay? But where could I go?
While the treatment had no doubt left my body in impeccable condition, the unseen effects were greater. But no one would hire me without a degree. A pointless piece of paper. My abilities were my own, not taught, but given. A gift. Unfortunately I couldn’t put them on a resume.
What was it I actually wanted to do? Me, Ryan Cooper. What did I want to be? What did I want my life to mean? I had an opportunity no one else had. Did I want nice cars and a nice house? Because those would be easy to attain if I just stayed in school.
I could help people. But what was I equipped to do? I didn’t have resources, other than personal ones. Was I supposed to go walk the beat, protect and serve, like some sort of vigilante? That would probably not pay the bills. But the idea of working an office job sounded like torture.
None of it seemed to fit for me. I wanted a real purpose. I wanted to use what I had been given to do something. Help others, maybe even change the world, like Tom had joked about. But how?
I had no idea. I didn’t see any real choices in front of me. I would have to continue going to school, get my degree. At worst, I would be successful and make a comfortable living for my family.
What if I never put my abilities to use? So what? Who really did? How many people worked a job they hated, that didn’t use any of their true, natural talents, simply to provide for their family?
Maybe the most grounding thought I had was this: I really wasn’t special. Despite everything I had been given, I would end up living the same life, get caught up in the same rat race that cancer had allowed me to be apart from.
My mortality had freed me from this life, but the cure had brought me back to reality. I wasn’t special, just lucky. I wasn’t different, merely the subject of some crazy life circumstances. There were no superheroes in the world, because there was no place for them.
Contemplating my future left me in a funk I couldn’t shake. Tom tried to bring up the idea of doing something with my abilities again, but I shot him down. I think it soured his mood too.
Even if he did have a viable plan of action, which of course he did not, I did not want to open Pandora’s Box. Those types of things always ended up involving lots of action, pain (emotional and physical), loss, and ultimately some sort of redemption to tie things up in a tidy box. I was not going to let my life be reduced to the simple character arc of a comic book.
That was not my cup of tea. I was too much of a home body. And now I had the ultimate home-body—I didn’t even have to work out! I could just live my life and it was guaranteed to be successful. I won a genetic lottery, and the first thing Tom wanted to do was hit up the Vegas-strip equivalent of Gotham City. Or at least seek out if such a thing existed. No thanks.
The end of the semester approached. Classes slowly phased out of giving homework in favor of study guides for finals, which meant everyone was ready to blow off some steam. So naturally, Tom did what he does best. He threw a party.
I spent the day cleaning the house, even though I knew it would be all for naught in a few hours. Tom went out to buy food and booze. We each contributed what we could. I felt grateful to him for having graciously kept the fridge stocked. Cleaning was the least I could do.
The first cars started arriving before it was even dark. I could hear them pull up out front, brakes groaning as they worked to bring the old hand-me-down heaps of rusting metal to a halt. Engines sputtering out. Most people who went to community college weren’t as well off as Tom seemed to be.
Heavy footsteps made their way down the sidewalk and up to our front door, booted to protect from the cold and light dusting of snow outside. A knock on the front door before it banged unceremoniously open.
“Hey guys,” I greeted them.
It was the same group I had gone to the club with. They probably had better attendance at Tom’s parties than they did their own classes.
“Hey Ryan.” They each gave me a head nod in greeting as they made their way in.
“Tom’s in the kitchen.” I waved them through.
I heard a raucous greeting, hand-slapping and back-clapping, echo from the kitchen. I knew they probably needed to start the party now or else they’d drink everyone else under the table. They seemed to be minoring in alcoholism. Though after last year, I really couldn’t judge.
More people arrived shortly after. I didn’t ask anyone to remove their shoes, even as I watched them tramp in dirty slush from outside. I knew it would be a losing battle and not worth the effort. Besides, technically the house was under Tom’s name, as was the security deposit. If he wasn’t about to enforce such rules than far be it from me to do so. I’d just mop again tomorrow. The outpouring of beer and other mixed drinks would call for it anyhow.
The flow of cars spewing out fresh bodies never seemed to stop. Had he invited half the school? I recognized quite a few of our guests, mostly from parties like this one over the last year. Eventually I gave up my job as greeter and retreated from the front door. There was enough noise emanating from the house that no one needed a guide. We might as well be putting a bat symbol in the sky… except it would have looked like a giant beer bong.
I quickly downed one of the mixed drinks set out on the counter. I knew they would be safe. Tom made sure nothing too nefarious ever happened here. He seemed to be keen on keeping a low profile where any sort of law-enforcement were concerned. Which made sense, being the biggest party house on campus. The last thing he wanted was to be shut down.
The first drink didn’t seem to do too much, so I quickly followed it with two more. Then the song Shots came on, so of course a few bottles were passed around for its duration. Once that had run its course, I made my way to the living room. The furniture had been moved back against the wall, and in their place in the center of the room was a folding table with solo cups on either end. Good old Beer Pong.
“Anyone got next game?” I asked the four around the table.
They listed off another pair, so I called after them. Once my place was established, I wandered around looking for a partner. Tom was usually down, if I could locate him in the throng. I eventually found him halfway down the hall.
“Hey man, ready to be kings of the table?” I slapped him on the back.
“Actually no, I’m waiting for the bathroom. But you know what? I think I have your partner right here.” He turned revealing who he’d been talking with in the hall.
It was Melissa from math class. I almost shot a glare at Tom but didn’t want her to see it. I knew he had been pushing for me to do something for a while now. It seemed I had run out of time and excuses. Or maybe this was his petty revenge at my moping around the house for the past few weeks.
Instead of giving him the satisfaction of a reaction, I turned my attention to her. Melissa was dressed in a short skirt with a top that revealed quite a bit. Definitely not weather-appropriate wear. Her green eyes met mine with a lightly glazed look. Despite all my bluster about my abilities granting me more confidence, my heart raced at the sight of her. Thoughts of Holly slid away as I spoke.
“Hey!” I managed a light smile and half-wave. Real lame.
“Sure! I’ll be your partner,” she said with a smile.
Maybe she was too inebriated to see how nervous I was.
“Looks like you two are all set up.” Tom gave me a knowing smile as he moved farther along the hall toward the bathroom. He was always two steps ahead of me.
“Shall we?” Melissa made her way down the hall with a glance back over her shoulder.
I followed.
The short trip back to the living room was made longer by the crowd of bodies we had to navigate through. I carefully press through, trying not to bump anyone’s drink, knowing I’d have to clean it up tomorrow.
Once we finally arrived back at the table, it was with the realization we didn’t have any drinks of our own. Tom had made a rule about only using water in the actual pong cups, and one cold-sore outbreak later everyone agreed.
I offered to retrieve some from the kitchen and thus had to make the precarious journey back with both hands full. By the time I returned, there was already someone occupying Melissa’s attention. I nudged her shoulder and handed her a drink. Rick, the guy who had been talking with her, gave me an annoyed look.
“Thanks, Ryan! Looks like my partner’s back,” she said to him dismissively.
I tried not to look too smug.
“How’s the game going?” I asked, turning my attention to the table and our future competition.
“Doesn’t matter, we’ll win either way,” she replied.
“Oh?” I smiled at her confidence.
I set my drink down and took off the light sweater I’d been wearing. The house had grown noticeably warmer as more and more people had packed inside. Besides, I’d been mostly wearing it for the look, and I’d already made my first impressions. Now everyone was getting tipsy and I figured it had served its purpose. I couldn’t see a good place to set it down, so I just tossed it behind the couch where it would be safe from spills and trampling feet. I turned back in time to catch Melissa staring unabashedly. My clothes definitely fit a little tighter than they had in the past, but I didn’t have the money to replace them. I crossed my arms self-consciously.
“Been working out with Tom?” she asked me.
“Yeah, a little,” I lied.
“Well, it’s working. You look good.” She gave me an appraising look.
“Thanks.” I could feel the heat rising in my face.
“You guys going to play? Or just stand there ogling each other?” the guy across the table called out.
Guess we were up. I breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have something else to focus on. Perhaps I wasn’t as confident as I thought I was. Maybe just detached from everything, as I had been before, only for different reasons now.
They started the game off sinking five of our cups before we even had a chance to shoot.
That’s ok, I thought to myself. I got this.
My first shot sailed easily past the cups. I frowned to myself. I needed to recalibrate. Melissa sank hers.
“No worries!” She smiled.
I gave her a grateful nod.
For our second turn my shot fell short, but only just. She made hers again. By our third turn I had it down. Melissa gave me a playful smack on the arm in congratulations.
Her prediction proved correct, we quickly cleaned up the first game after the sloppy start. Then every subsequent game went even faster. The music and shouting of everyone around us faded into background noise. Her celebratory high-fives quickly turned to somewhat excessive hugs after each successive victory, as the drinks kept pouring and we kept winning. I didn’t mind one bit.
My whole body began to warm up. The initial feeling emanating from my belly then spreading like tendrils through my limbs and into my mind. The alcohol wrapped all my senses up in its warm, fuzzy embrace. Sounds grew somehow more intense yet farther away. The lighting was dimmed with features and people coming in and out of focus, but Melissa remained at the center of my attention. People came and went from our table as I lost count of the games we won.
Eventually Tom stepped up in an attempt to put an end to us. He had followed the commotion to its center, which apparently was our improbable winning streak. A small crowd had gathered, most of them cheering for someone, anyone to take us down.
After an impossibly quick game in which I didn’t miss a single shot, Tom stepped up to the table with Rick by his side.
I made my first shot. Melissa took aim, but closed one eye and barely balanced on one foot—not even close. I barely caught her as she teetered over. She lingered in my arms for a moment.
Tom made his first, but luckily Rick missed.
We were up again, but this time I found myself a bit distracted. The memory of Melissa, warm in my arms. I missed, as did she.
Tom made his second.
“Heating up.” He smiled.
I made another cup, but Melissa missed again. Rick also proved himself to be useless. Four cups to two. No big deal. We would rally.
Tom made his third.
“On fire.”
And then he ended the game. He’d made ten in a row. I’d never seen him shoot like that before.
“Rebuttal?” It hadn’t been our tool to utilize once during our run.
“How about this—I make three more, and you accept the loss.”
“You won’t!” Melissa quickly shouted while leaning suggestively over the table.
He did.
We left the table to the cheers of all those gathered around.
“I can’t believe he made all those shots!” Melissa declared with exasperation.
“Yeah,” I simply agreed.
For some reason, I could believe it. There was a glint in his eye… or something. I just knew he would beat me. He always did. I retrieved my sweater from behind the couch so I could put it away before the alcoholic floodwaters rose too high.
“Well, we were still really good together,” Melissa stated as she followed me to my room.
“We really were,” I smiled back at her.
I tossed the sweater carelessly toward the closet. I heard the door shut behind me and turned just in time to catch Melissa advancing on me. I met her hungry lips with my own, but before long I pressed her back, gently but firmly. Her eyes searched mine.
“We are far too drunk for this,” I said.
“I know what I want.” She came back at me.
But there was a slur to her words, and she stumbled as she advanced. I caught her and helped her sit on the bed. I knew the amount I had drunk tonight would have normally left me nearly blacked-out. The fact that I still felt somewhat coherent was no doubt only due to whatever changes the virus had done to me. She had matched me drink for drink throughout our games.
“How are you feeling?” I sat down next to her and placed a hand on her leg.
“Great!” She replied with a smile, then flopped over backwards.
“Need any water or anything?” I asked skeptically.
“Probably,” she answered.
I retreated from the room and returned shortly with a glass of water. She had moved under the covers. My first impression was that she had passed out, but as I set the water on the night-stand, she turned her head toward me.
“Thanks for being such a gentleman, even if it’s not what I want,” she said with an impish smile.
“No problem.” I sat down again.
I wondered how much of this was due to Holly’s influence. Would I have been able to resist being with Melissa if it weren’t for her? Why did I feel guilty? I didn’t owe her anything, she had shown that clearly enough. And yet, what had once been a burning crush for Melissa had faded into barely a smolder. I knew that was Holly’s doing.
I glanced back at Melissa, laying there so peacefully. I wondered what I would have done if not for Holly, or the virus keeping me relatively sober. I hated myself a little for not knowing.
“I’m sorry,” she stated sleepily.
“What for?” I asked.
“Getting so drunk.” She ducked her head under the blanket.
“HA!” I laughed. “Pretty sure that’s why Tom throws these parties in the first place.”
“Just Tom?” she asked as she poked her head back out.
“Well yeah, they’re generally all his idea. It’s all his friends out there.” I waved at the closed door.
“Oh, I guess I thought it was both of you,” she replied.
“Really?” I was genuinely surprised.
“Well, you are both always at the center of every party, always together. I guess I assumed you were both the same,” she answered sheepishly.
Odd. I’d always felt somewhat detached at these engagements. That’s why I’d always participated in whatever alcohol or substances Tom had to offer. There was no way I would have been able to face all those people without some liquid courage. But I guess that was not how other people saw Tom and me. I was always at the parties too, always hanging out with Tom. To an outsider, I might have been just as unapproachable as they were to me.
I realized that they were not paying attention to anyone but themselves, just as I had been only focusing on my own perceptions of the world around me. I could have, should have approached Melissa far sooner. But the fear of being shot down, and then mocked for my failure had held me back. No one would have taken notice. Ironically, this sort of intrinsic self-discovery only revealed “the power was inside me the whole time!” What an unfortunately clichéd truth.
“I’m sorry,” Melissa repeated.
“Hmm?” I turned my attention back to her. “It’s ok, really. You can sleep it off here.”
“No, not for that…” she mumbled. “For your cancer.”
“Oh, that.” I looked down at my hands.
My cancer had been an open secret around campus. I didn’t bring it up, and so no one else did either. I liked it like that. I wasn’t sure how it got out in the first place. But a secret cure? That piece of information would be much more closely guarded.
“I would have liked to get to know you more,” she barely whispered.
Her head had sunk all the way into the pillow, eyes closed. Her breathing slowed to a more regular rhythm.
“I’d have liked that too, Melissa,” I expressed quietly to a room that wasn’t listening.
I may not be dying anymore, but I had a strong feeling my future was tied inexplicably to Holly.
I patted her blanketed shoulder before standing up to leave. On my way out the door, I found a plastic bucket and set it next to the bed. It had been a staple of my room last year but hadn’t found much use since the diagnoses.
I retreated out of the room and closed the door slowly. The most interesting part of my night behind me, I returned to the party at large. The table had been moved and the living room was now a dance floor. A mosh of people all with their own fears, dreams, aspirations, and ideas for what life was. I slipped among them and let myself be swallowed up by it. But I felt more like a ship tossed amongst the waves than a part of the ocean itself.
I was different, but everything else remained the same. The world continued to spin on regardless of my actions or decisions. The idea that I was not beholden to the same constraints as everyone around me, it was freeing. I did not need to follow the world’s patterns. They were not meant for me. I could go on an adventure. I could play Tom’s games. I could see all that Holly had to offer. And if it was not what I wanted? The world would be right here waiting; as it always had been and always would be.
I meant nothing to it, so it meant nothing to me.