Left work early. I said my teeth hurt. This is true. I think I have an impacted wisdom tooth or something. Last night, heavily drugged on a nice Brazilian coffee, I was positive the aching in my jaw was due to West Nile Virus, anthrax, or tetanus. I was pretty sure I wouldn't live through the night. Hypochondriac? Me? Of course not. I mean, I did spend the night making a last will and testament, but I am NOT a hypochondriac.
Anyway, my reason for leaving work early had nothing to do with my teeth.
My reason for leaving work early?
I wanted to check the mail.
Helena, you're fucking crazy...
Yes.
One letter in the mailbox. I knew what it was before I touched it. I knew what it was before I'd gotten the mailbox-key out of my cleavage, where it hangs on a chain next to a cheesy replica of the Space Needle.
From: OFFICE OF ADMISSIONS
The Evergreen State College
Olympia, Washington 98505
To: Helena Thomas
The Wes'side
Binghamton, New York 13905
I sat, clutching the envelope. I went to the bathroom, clutching the envelope. I washed my hands, one at a time, clutching the envelope. I panicked. I clutched. I signed online. I massaged my sore jaw.
The envelope in one hand, a cigarette in the other, both shaking. This is fucking IT. This determines EVERYTHING. This is how long I stay at Burger King. This is how long I go to community college. This is how long I live in Binghamton, how many more days or months or years I have left with my Rivers, and Aaron, and Norman, and my mom. This is whether or not I get my education in a lovely little town, at a lovely little college, filled with lovely people, and a cute admissions counselor named Corey. This is IT. This is, "Congratulations, Helena -- come hang out with us and we won't make fun of you for reading Sartre for fun, and someday you can get a degree and be a teacher if you want, and maybe do some graduate work in psycholinguistics so someday you can be on Unsolved Mysteries analyzing the validity of suicide notes..." Or, this is "Fuck you, Helena: stay there where you belong. We don't want you; let your mind rot in some minimum-wage kitchen for a few more years..."
I waited until Norman walked in the door. I made him kiss my cheek where my jaw hurts. I made him stand there and watch me open my envelope.
"Dear Helena,
On behalf of the Admissions Committee and the entire Evergreen Committee, I am pleased to inform you that you have been admitted for Winter Quarter, 2002......"
Oh thank you. Oh thank you so much.
What else can I say?
Except that I'm going somewhere. Really. I have a fucking FUTURE, dammit!
I'm going to celebrate...
~Helena*