going on, the missing Marsha was in the library, her head buried in a book. She loved the library, where everything was quiet, peaceful, and orderly.
Marsha loved the feeling of holding a book in her hands and disappearing into another world, one of her own choosing. If she didn’t like a book and the world it created, she could put it down and open another. Not like life.
Only when her stomach rumbled did she realize what time it was and that everyone was probably in the school’s coffee shop having lunch together, wondering where she was.
Marsha could almost see the steam coming out of Judith’s head at her absence. It gave her a momentary sense of satisfaction that she had displeased the perfect Judith, but a feeling of guilt quickly replaced it. Once again, she was letting her friends down.
This bouncing back and forth between emotions was not something that Marsha liked about herself. Of course, the list of what she didn’t like about herself, or anyone else, was much longer than what she did.
There were only a few things that Marsha felt she did well. One was worrying. About everything. Today she was worrying about school. She liked it, and she hated it. Shouldn’t she like all parts of it?
Bree said no, nobody had to enjoy all the things about school. After their first two years of college were over and they had taken the classes they had to take, Marsha would be free to take more of what she wanted.
Besides, since their pact to stay in town only lasted through the first two years of school, she could also go anywhere she wanted to go after that.
“But I don’t know what I want,” Marsha would say so quietly that Bree would have to bend in to hear.
“I’m sure you do,” Bree would answer. “You just haven’t let yourself want it yet.”
Marsha would turn away, knowing that Bree was probably right as she usually was, but that didn’t help. She still didn’t know. It made her laugh inside to know that most people read her independence as confidence when mostly it was confusion.
Stuffing the book into her already overflowing backpack, Marsha hurried out of the library to meet her friends. As she passed the large glass door, she caught a reflection of herself. Tall, thin, a dancer’s body. Nothing she had to work for. But she worked hard at being a dancer, and that was where she found herself at peace.
Maybe Bree was right. She did know what she wanted, and she was only afraid because she wouldn’t find it in this podunk town. Losing her friends seemed like too high a price to pay to do what she wanted to do in life.
The library and the campus HUB were nearby, but even though she felt guilty for being late, Marsha didn’t hurry. She dawdled, as her mother would have said. It was a habit she had developed young, not knowing what would greet her when she got home.
Sometimes her mother was in the kitchen making her a snack. Other days, Marsha would open the door and find her mother passed out on the floor. Marsha’s heart would race. She’d rush to her mother to see if she was still breathing, and since she always was, the wave of adrenaline that fueled her fear would sweep into anger or depression.
Other times Marsha would open the door to a screaming lunatic and quickly back out before her crazy mother trapped her. Before she found Bree and her circle of friends, she would hide in the backyard, swatting at bugs in the summer and trying to stay warm in the winter, waiting for the manic version of her mother to be over.
So she walked slowly, fully aware that her friends weren’t her mother, but also knowing that she had probably disappointed them again. Still, they never held it against her. Even Judith never let her anger linger. She reminded herself that they were her safe space and hurried through the hall to the coffee shop, almost bumping into Mr. Hunky professor, who looked as panicked as she felt.
Wonder what that’s about, Marsha thought, as she looked for her friends.
She saw them across the room. Their heads bent forward, giggling together. Cindy looked up and saw her and waved her over while practically hopping out of her chair in anticipation.
“What’s going on?” Marsha asked.
“Bree met the man she is going to marry!” April giggled.
“She says she is going to marry him,” Judith corrected.
“She will. You know she knows these things.” Cindy answered.
Marsha looked at Bree, leaning back in her chair, smiling. “Is it true?”
“It is!” Bree said, grabbing Marsha’s hand and pulling her down to the empty seat beside her.
“Who are you going to marry?”
This time Cindy couldn’t help herself. She almost tipped over her chair in her excitement. “Professor Hunky!”