Page 4 of Constantine: Britain's Story: Part 2
Matt cuts him off, “Stanford?” He chuckles, “I know, Dad, you only brought it up three times on the way over.”Ahh. So that’s how Matt knows who I am. Connie gets a sheepish look on his face before letting out a low laugh. I also could’ve sworn he blushed for a moment, too.
“Well, it’s important!” Connie defends himself. “I’ll let you kids talk for a little bit.” He shoots me another wink before patting Matt on the arm, then turns to join another group, leaving me…with Matt. I could just curl in a ball and die right now. It’s so fucking embarrassing that he’s basicallypity talkingto me because his dad made him. Matt turns to me, giving me that luminous smile.I bet it’s so easy for him to talk to people.
“It’s okay; you don’t have to talk to me about Stanford. We can just pretend to talk for a minute and then you can go.” I give him the out he’s probably dying for.
“Absolutely not! Let’s talk about it,” he says, seemingly taken aback by my dismissal.Oh.
“Umm, okay?” I let out another nervous laugh for what feels like the fiftieth time. He looks over my head, and around me then gently takes my arm, guiding me away from the crowded bar area.
It’s a lot quieter on this side of the pavilion so he immediately jumps back into the conversation. “So, what are you planning to study?” I laugh at his question.
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” I sigh, “Well, I honestly don’t know. I’m sort of hoping I’ll find out when I getthere. I’ll take a course, and there’ll be this spark, and I’ll know then, this is what I want to do.” I shrug my shoulders.
“And why can’t you do that at Stanford?”
“It’s just…it’s a really expensive school for general ed when I don’t have a set path. I mean, my mom told me not to worry about the cost, that she would take care of it, but I do worry. You know?” He probably doesn’t know, though. He’s been brought up in a world of wealth. I don’t know why I just told him that. It’s not polite to talk about money, but I just felt like if I told him the truth, he might drop this whole subject.
“I think, if Georgia said she would take care of it, you should let Georgia take care of it. If that’s the only thing holding you back, you shouldn’t let it.” Of course, he would say that. It’s easy to tell someone else to let their parents go into debt for six figures for college when it was never even a question for you.
I’m thinking how best to respond when a skinny guy with spiky blonde hair walks up to us.
“Hey, bro! Been looking for you!” Spiky-haired guy butts right into our conversation. He’s even wedged himself between Matt and me like I don’t exist.Typical.
“Hey, Jake,” Matt says as he side-steps around Jake to stand next to me. “I’d like you to meet Britain. Britain, this is Jake.”
“Hi there, nice to meet you.” I don’t extend my hand, though. This guy seems like a douche.
“Sup’?” Jake responds to me, but I don’t reply. He’s not actually asking me what’s up. Jake doesn’t wait for a response either, redirecting his attention to Matt. “Ready to take the boat out? I’ve got a good group together.” It’s so awkward when people talk about their plans in front of you, especially when those plansdon’tinclude you.
Without waiting for Matt’s reply, I just politely excuse myself. “Matt, it was very nice to meet and talk to you. Jake, nice to meet you as well.” I give a tight-lipped but courteous smile,then dip my head in farewell and head in the opposite direction without looking back once. I immediately start walking with purpose except…I have no direction.
I could go stand next to Georgia for the next couple of hours, but that sounds torturousandespecially lame.God, I hate coming to things like this. I mean I absolutely loathe stuff like this. It brings all my feelings of inadequacy to the surface. I feel like I’ll never really belong or am worthy, and these intrusive thoughts cause me to spiral. I get this outsider mentality, and then I latch on to those thoughts, and it hurts physically. There’s a pain in my chest, and tears start to line my eyes.God, I’m pathetic. I’ve got to get out of here.
There’s a small dirt path winding beside the lake connecting different pavilions and beach areas, so that’s where I direct myself. No one will notice I’m missing. I’ll wander around and hopefully kill another hour. At least that’s what I’m hoping for, but I only get about 50 feet from the picnic pavilion when someone calls out to me.
“Britain, wait!” I turn to see Matt walking quickly up the path behind me. I wait for him to catch up, confused about why he’s here.
“Where are you headed?” He asks once he’s reached me. I almost look around to see if he’s talking to someone other than me, but I refrain.
“Just going for a walk down to that beach area.” I point to a spot about a quarter of a mile away.
“Can I join you?” This time I actually do look behind me, to make sure I’m not being delusional.
“Listen, if this is about the Stanford thing, I really don’t think you could say or do anything to change my mind. It’s just life. I’m fine going to State, really.”
“If I don’t bring up Stanford again,thencan I join you?”What? Why? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Britain.
“Umm, sure…why not?” I can’t fathom what would make this man want to walk around a lake with me on a scorching hot day when he could be drinking under a shaded pavilion or wakeboarding on his boat with friends.But, I will accept the distraction he’ll provide.
“Cool,” is his only response. So I turn towards the path and start walking again, this time with Matt at my side, yet neither one of us talks. I look out at the lake surrounded by golden foothills sparsely dotted with dry brush and low oak trees. Occasionally, I zone out, following the path of speed boats as they zoom through the wake before eventually growing smaller and disappearing over the horizon. It’s…amiable, at best.
It doesn’t take much for me to notice that Robles Lake isnotlike Spearhead Lake, my favorite place in the world. Robles Lake isn’t up in the mountains surrounded by pine trees; it’s down in the hills, which means 1. It’s hot, and 2. There’s hardly any shade and a lot of dirt. The trees here don’t get tall, either. Oppressed by a brutal valley sun beating down on their backs, they have no choice but to bend to the sun’s will. I inhale deeply trying to appreciate the natural beauty, but nothing but the smell of dirt fills my lungs.
By the time we get to the beach area, we still haven’t spoken and the heat is starting to feel unbearable, so I slip off my sandals, leaving them on the sandy beach, and head straight for the water. I’m not planning to go all the way in, but cool water lapping against my shins sounds amazing right now. Not bothering to check what Matt does, I just do my own thing, desperate for the cooling relief above all else.
When I step into the water, the dry sand turns to cool mud beneath my toes, and I sigh.It feels so good. I take several more steps into the lake until I’m knee-deep, the cool water seemingly my only relief on what is turning into a miserable afternoon.
“Britain, don’t move,” Matt says in a stern, low voice. I don’t move, but the urge to turn around and look at him is strong. “There’s a water snake by your right foot.” He’s nearly whispering it like the volume of his voice is somehow impactful.
