Jed
I gripped the steering wheel with determination, but the road ahead of me became blurry anyway as the tears streamed down my face, seeping from my eyes like groundwater rising in a heavy rain. My chest heaved in great sobs, my hands jerking the wheel slightly as I bent forward to catch my breath.
I should pull over, I thought.
I'm going to run off the road. But I couldn't will myself to stop the car.
I have to keep going. I needed a distraction; something to help me escape the heartbreak of the previous 12 hours.
I didn't understand how one day could be so full of such highs and devastating lows. Standing in the sun outside the Convocation Center, posing for pictures in my cap and gown with the friends who had been my life for four years, I felt bittersweet. Proud of what we had achieved. Sad to be ending the amazing ride that is college. Excited to begin life as an official "adult." Terrified of how I would make it; unsure of where I wanted to be, even where I should be. With the quick flick of a tassle, I had turned a completely crisp, blank page.
But through all these emotions, the hardest had been standing by as my college love closed his own collegiate chapter. Though we were no longer together, I still loved him desperately and hoped we could find some way to be together.
I couldn't hide my jealousy and hurt seeing his new lady friend's car parked at his house the entire last week of school. How could he spend those final days with someone he barely knew?
But the true finality of our relationship really hit me as I sat watching his commissioning ceremony. As his parents pinned his stripes on him, and his older brother saluted him for the first time, Mike looked as though he might cry. He belonged to the army now; it was a ride I couldn't hitch my wagon to.
I sat with his mother, trying not to cry in front of her. I dabbed the tissue, balled up tightly in my hand, to my face quickly, almost secretively. I heard her sniffle, too.
After the ceremony, he told me I looked pretty and thanked me for being there. I told him I wouldn't have missed it for the world. We posed for pictures, but our shallow smiles couldn't hide the gloom hanging over us both. Looking at the photos today, we look waxy; disconnected. We were.
I hugged Mike and hurried away, late for my own graduation party at my grandparents' house nearly 30 minutes away. I managed to make it to the car and onto the freeway before the tears took over.
The tape, I remembered, reaching over and digging frantically in the bag on the passenger seat. I felt the cassette and pulled it out, immediately shoving it into the car's tape player. Still sobbing, I waited anxiously for the music to begin. As the familiar base line and chords echoed up at me, my tear-streaked cheeks turned up in a half smile.
Oh, Jed.
Jed had been an incredible friend to me over the previous few years. Jed's quiet and seemingly shy demeanor often masked his true self: a caring, sensitive, deeply thoughtful firecracker. He had piercing blue eyes and a wit that either cut you sharply or left you laughing so hard your sides ached.
I got to know Jed as Mike's best friend and a fellow ultimate player. At tournaments, parties, and even at the boys' shared house, we hung out and forged a friendship. When Mike and I broke up after New Year's in our senior year, Jed became a trusted confidante and drinking buddy. I wouldn't have made it through the end of the year without him.
But we had solidified our friendship over beers and wings one night when Mike and I were still together.
Out at the local hangout, we were listening to tunes on the jukebox when
Under Pressure came on. A disagreement ensued about the artist who performed the song. "David Bowie," he insisted. "Queen, silly, it's a Queen song," I countered. "David Bowie was just the guest singer."
We laughed, but it became "our" song; the symbol of our affection for and appreciation of each other. Whenever we were out together, one of us would be sure to queue it up on the jukebox.
Now our song was repeating back to me from my car stereo, a reminder of the year and the people I loved so dearly. Earlier in the day, I had given Jed a graduation present--a photo of the two of us. He brought me one, too--the mixed tape. The mixed tape that started off with our song.
Suddenly, I was crying again. Crying for everything I was about to leave behind, not just Mike.
As the song faded out, I wondered what was next, hoping for something uplifting.
Quietly, the familiar base line began again. A smile broke to my lips. The corners of my eyes, caked with drying tears, crackled as the smile reached them, too. I giggled. Then I began to laugh. I laughed so hard that my sobs became hiccups, leaving me gasping for air.
I fast forwarded the tape, stopping at random intervals. Sure enough, the entire side was our song, repeated over and over. I howled with manic laughter.
Alone in my car, heading toward an uncertain future, I felt hope for the first time all day.
Nothing is more uplifting, I laughed,
than knowing you are loved.
I laughed all the way to my grandmother's house.
