Page 17 of Player
From what Pia has told me, she has gone deep into the artcourses: photography, sculpture, visual arts, art history, all on top of her required freshman courses.
"Yes, but that's all I'm passionate about," the petite blonde answers.
Saphya fishes out a light blue glittery flyer before showing it to Pia, "How about the choir? Music is art too."
Our friend's face turns crimson as she considers the brochure, but she doesn't comment.
"I'm going to join thecheerleaders," Saphya announces.
My heart lurches, and instinctively, my fingers move to the scar marking my forearm.
"I didn't know you danced," I remark, my throat tight.
"Oh yes, I did it for years! But now my thing is choreography rather than flying."
The dreamy expression that appears on her face resonates with me, but I quickly push away the memories trying to resurface. That chapter of my life is definitely closed, and I can't allow myself to revisit it, or I'll fall apart. When you've lived fully for your passion, when you've given everything you had to perfect yourself, it's difficult to give it up and find the strength to move forward. And that's exactly how I feel about cheerleading. I could have gone very far, if only...
Pia interrupts my train of thought:
"What are you going to choose, Dixie?"
I stare at her for a moment, just long enough for Saphya to interject, "You have to join a club, trust me, if you don't, you'll regret it later. Seriously! We're supposed to be spending the best years of our lives at this college!"
She looks so enthusiastic that I refrain from telling her I hope we'll have other equally wonderful years long after we've graduated. Life would be pretty sad otherwise.
"So, what are you choosing?" Saphya insists.
I pick up a flyer at random and show it to my roommates. "This!"
Saphya's gaze shifts from the brochure to me. "Cake design? Well, that's not bad! I hope you'll bring us cakes every week. I love everything sweet!" She has a greedy expression that makes me smile. I'm the opposite, I love everything savory. But I figure this club will be a good pastime, and at worst, I can always quit.
Saphya turns to our roommate who's been quiet for a while. "What about you, Pia? Tempted by the choir?"
Pia bites her lower lip and shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."
"Come on!" Saphya insists. "I'm sure you have a lovely voice. I've heard you humming when you thought no one was listening."
Once again, Pia's cheeks turn tomato red.
"I think I'll join the cake design club with Dixie."
She looks up at me with eyes full of... hope? What's going on with her? Pia doesn't need to ask my permission, she can choose whatever club she wants. I get the impression she's waiting for a response from me, so I say, "Cool! We can go together."
Pia seems relieved. Clearly, I gave the answer she was hoping for.
"When you think about it, it's a form of visual art," comments Saphya.
"Exactly," Pia responds. "It should even help me with my sculpture class."
The girls chat, but my mind wanders far from our living room, hundreds of miles from this university, southward to Alabama. Sometimes I wish I had the power to turn back time to visit the Dixie of the past and explain what she should do, warn her, alert her to what's going to happen. But the past can't be changed. Besides, it makes me who I am today. What wouldI have become if my life hadn't pivoted that day? I've often imagined that other life I could have led, sketching in my imagination an existence that could only be real in a parallel universe where I hadn't made the same choices.
I am the product of every decision I've made in my life. There's nothing I can do about that. All I control is my present and every action I take now.
The weight of regrets suddenly seems to press down on my shoulders. I push back my chair to stand up, earning surprised looks from my friends.
"I need some fresh air," I excuse myself. I don't wait for their response before leaving. The TEC is always buzzing, it feels like there are constantly students in its hallways and stairwells. Every time I leave my room, I cross paths with loads of varied, interesting people. While I usually appreciate the relaxed atmosphere at OMU, tonight I feel out of sync with the rest of my peers.
A cool breeze catches me as I dash down the few steps at the building's exit. Without any specific destination in mind, I follow a path straight ahead, trying to set aside my thoughts and especially my memories. Part of me hates dwelling on the past, while another part indulges in reminiscences of a bygone era.
