Reinventing Emma

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Girl falls for college roommate while reinventing herself
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JoeDreamer
JoeDreamer
6,287 Followers

You hear stories of people who walk away from their lives and start over. I was sixteen when I realized that's what I wanted to do. The only problem was where could I go? Sure, other sixteen year olds had run away from their lives in the past, but statistically things don't work out well for most of them, especially the girls. I had reason to know. My grandfather was a minister and had helped more than one runaway over the years. The stories these kids shared were never good. Frankly, many were downright horrifying.

No, as bad as things were, they weren't bad enough for me to run away from home and chance facing that kind of life. I mean, it's not like my parents didn't love me. They did. I knew that. The fact that they were so clueless wasn't even that odd. Aren't most parents that way when it comes to their kids?

Okay, maybe mine were a little more oblivious than most, but they came by it honestly. They were good people brought up by good families. They weren't exposed to the darker side of life. I think to some degree it was by choice, at least in my father's case. Dad never really wanted to follow in his own father's footsteps. If he had he might have had some idea of how to help me.

My father graduated college with a degree in architecture. He joined the Peace Corp at his father's insistence. I think it was part of deal they made before grandfather agreed to pay for dad's education. It sounded like something he would do. Knowing Grandfather, he probably figured that not only would the Peace Corp, a worthy institution in his opinion, gain from father's skills, but that my father would also gain from the experience. I don't think either of them expected daddy to meet the woman he was going to marry while overseas, although I wouldn't put it past my grandfather.

Mother was also a volunteer. My parents quickly fell in love and decided to get married when they returned to the states. Mom was a housewife, but spent most of her time working on one committee or another after they settled near my father's family. It was a small town where dad's father was the local minister and had been since before my father was born. I spent a lot of time with my grandfather growing up. In many ways, he was my hero.

For the first fourteen years of my life we lived in our small town and I was happy being the minister's granddaughter. I knew everyone in town. I had a good group of friends. We had fun together without getting into any serious trouble. In short, I lived an idyllic life.

All that changed, at least for me, when we moved. My father had done well for himself as an architect and received more than one job offer over the years from big companies. I'm not sure what was so special about the one he decided to take. It entailed us moving to the big city which I think was a plus for my parents. They jokingly called the move their midlife crisis.

Me? I was just as excited to go. Sure, I'd miss my friends, but I could always talk to them on-line. It's not like we lived in the Stone Age. Besides, I fully planned on following in my grandfather's footsteps when I grew up and what better place than the big city to get experience helping people? Yeah, I guess my parents weren't the only clueless ones. Of course, my naiveté disappeared not long after I started high school.

Some days when I look in the mirror I can still almost make out the girl who left our small town staring back at me, but it was an illusion. She was gone. I knew that.

I won't bore you with the gory detail on what happened. Let's just say that the high school I went to had more than enough people who could have used my help. Unfortunately, most of them didn't want it. There was one particular senior boy who took offense at my attempts to help him. I should have backed off. He gave me more than enough warning. I never should have accosted him at that party. He was drunk, but I just knew that given the chance I could help him.

Still, that didn't give him the right to do what he did to me. Well, him and his two friends. The threats they made afterward about what they'd do to me if I ever told anyone what happened were unnecessary. I'd learned my lesson that night.

You see, up to that moment my life revolved around God and a desire to do his works. They stripped me of that belief along with my innocence. The problem was that without God I was lost. He'd played such an important part in my life up until that moment that nothing could fill the void. Of course, that didn't stop me from searching.

I tried all sorts of things. I drank. I tried drugs. I'd slept with more guys than I cared to think about. In short, I developed a well-earned reputation, none of it positive. It didn't helped. I was pretty messed up when it finally all came to a head.

I'd done my best to hide what I'd become from my parents. I succeeded reasonably well for a while, but by the time I hit the summer before my junior year there was no hiding it. Hell, I could barely control it. My parents were at wits end by that point.

That's when they decided to send me back to our old town for the summer. I tried refusing to go, but they didn't give me a choice. I didn't see the point. I'd lost contact with all my friends and the last person I wanted to see was my grandfather. Ever since that night at the party I couldn't even think about him without being both guilt ridden and angry. A part of me hated him for making me think God was the answer to everything. A bigger parted hated myself for feeling that way about him.

My grandfather wasn't nearly as clueless as my parents. Maybe it was because as a minister he'd seen more of the darker side of life than them. I remember the first hug he tried to give me after I arrived from the airport. I stiffened like a board. That didn't stop him. I pushing him away, but that didn't blind me to the compassion, understanding and love that showed in his expression. I hadn't said a word, but I could tell he knew. Maybe not the details, but the details didn't matter.

Some of my old friends tried to reconnect during that summer, but our meetings were awkward at best. I wasn't the girl they remembered and seeing them and the innocence they still held on to was more than I could stand, especially as I dried out.

There was no alcohol in my grandfather's house and if our town had a local dealer it wasn't anyone I knew. I would have tried picking something up at the liquor store, but I knew there was no point. Mr. Simmons would never sell my anything. He was a good man and knew I was underage. Besides, even if he wasn't that type of man, no one in our small town would be stupid enough to cross my grandfather.

I'm not sure if my old friends started avoiding me first or I started avoiding them, but halfway through the summer I was spending a lot of time alone. That wasn't a good thing without the alcohol and drugs to subdue my thoughts. That's when my grandfather took a sabbatical from the church and focused all of his attention on me.

Grandfather was patient with my outbursts. I refused to listen whenever he tried talking about God, but I still loved hearing his voice. It was oddly calming. We began to bond once more despite my resistance.

Grandfather didn't preach to me after I blew up at him the first couple of times. Instead, he started telling me stories about my grandmother. I knew them all by heart, but I listened just the same. I always wished that I'd gotten the chance to know her, but she was gone before I was born.

One day he was talking about how they first met, but this time the story differed from what I remembered. I knew they met at a fair, but I always pictured it as something sweet and romantic. You know, two kids bumping into each other and it being love at first sight.

It turns out that when I was younger grandfather had been editing what actually happened. Grandmother wasn't an innocent country girl when they met. She was an actual carny. She travelled with a gruff group from town to town setting up the rides and games for the local fairs. My grandfather used the word worldly to describe her, but I knew what he meant. He even went so far as to describe a tattoo she had on her pelvis. It was a butterfly.

I didn't bother mentioning that my own tattoo was in the same place. Of course, mine was a small thorny, colorless rose. It signified a lot of things to me, most of which I tried not to think about.

The stories about my grandmother became more colorful after that. Mostly, they were about their first couple of years together. She was a good woman, but in no way a saint. Frankly, by the time he was done sharing them all it was weird to realize that in some ways I now probably knew my grandmother better than my father did. Dad knew her as his mom. I now knew her as a human being. Not a perfect one by far, but not a bad one either.

For some reason it helped a lot knowing that she'd had a rough life growing up and still somehow found my grandfather and happiness. I doubted that I would have that kind of happy ending, but it let me know that I didn't have to keep on going in the direction I was heading.

Yeah, my grandfather was one tricky old man.

About a week before it was time to go home we sat in the family room and I started opening up to him about my life. It wasn't intentional. The words just started flowing. If anything I said horrified him then he did a good job hiding it. All I could see was love and compassion when I looked into his eyes. When I was done he held open his arms and I fell into them, sobbing uncontrollable.

I fell asleep like that and woke up the next morning laying in his lap with a blanket tossed over me. We were still on the couch and the sun was shining down on us. My grandfather eyes were open as he smiled down at me. I doubt he slept a single wink the entire night. For the first time in a long time I felt safe.

Grandfather being grandfather, he brought up God one last time before I left. I cut him off and told him in no uncertain terms that I didn't believe in Him anymore. Grandfather just laughed and said, "Bullshit." I was stunned. You have to understand. My grandfather didn't curse...ever. He then added that there was no way I could be so angry at someone who didn't exist. It gave me a lot to think about on the flight home. An hour later I had to admit that yes, I still did believe in God. I just wasn't all that happy with Him at the moment.

A few hours later when my plane was landing was the moment I realized that I was sixteen and wanted to walk away from everything I'd become and start over. It's also when I realized that doing so wasn't going to be easy. I decided not to do anything too drastic until I had a plan. I had a week before I had to go back to school. I figured I should be able to come up with something before then.

One option was to run away, but like I said already, as bad as things were I didn't want to do that. Deep down, I knew that it would only make things worse. Plus, it would hurt my parents and they didn't deserve that. Another option was to wait until I was eighteen before disappearing. I could walk away from my old life completely at that point, get a job and make a life for myself, but what kind of a life would it be? I didn't have a particular gift that I could use to make money. I'd probably end up in some minimum wage job just fighting to pay the rent. Besides, what was I supposed to do for two years?

I mulled over joining the army. I could do that at seventeen with parental consent. That wouldn't be easy to get, but I thought I could convince them to agree if I got grandfather on my side. The thought of leaving my current life behind a year earlier was very tempting, but in the end I decided not to take that path either. I loved my country, but I could never really picture myself in the army.

I knew my parents plans were for me to go to college, get a degree and hopefully meet a handsome young man soon after graduating that I would marry. I would then have a couple of kids and live happily ever after, but that was never going to happen. First of all, with my grades I'd be lucky to get into community college.

Second, as hard as I tried, I couldn't picture the type of guy they were thinking about being interested in a girl like me. I was damaged goods and I knew it. Besides, after everything I'd been through could I really relate to a guy like that? Get serious.

Still, I wouldn't mind graduating college and being able to go off on my own and get a good job afterward. It was very tempting, but six years seemed way too long of a wait to break free of the life I was leading. That was until I realized that if I went away to college somewhere where no one knew me, I wouldn't have to wait until graduation to change. I could remake myself into the person I thought I wanted to be my freshman year and try it out before entering the real world. That thought stuck with me so strongly that the day before I returned to high school I decided to go for it.

I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but with a plan for my life once more I was able to focus on what needed to be done. I initially thought the hard part would be getting my grades up. It wasn't. I'm not saying it was easy, but it was easy then some of the other things I had to face. I did my best to stay away from the bad influences at school, but that meant dumping most of my so called friends. I mean, I stayed in contact with a few people, but even they didn't understand the changes in me.

Mom saw how difficult it was for me and asked if I wanted to go back to live with my grandfather. I could finish school at there. I told her no because in some ways that would have been even harder. I was working toward the new me, but that didn't mean I could go back to the way I used to be. I'd never be that naïve again.

Two years later I'd succeeded. I picked my college carefully. I made sure that no one I knew from either my old hometown or my high school was going to the same place. It was a lot harder than you might expect. In the end, I picked a school way up north far from everything I knew.

I spend the summer before leaving making myself ready. I spent more time choosing the type of clothes I'd bring with me than I did in actually picking the clothes themselves. Where I grew up girls mostly wore dresses. In high school I dressed dark and usually in pants. I didn't want to be either of those people anymore.

I decided that for college I'd be the girl next store. You know, friendly without being slutty, smart without being a snob. I changed the makeup I was wearing. I practiced how to act for weeks before my parents dropped me off.

My fear grew as the day neared, but so did my excitement. I wanted real friends again. Frankly, I needed them...which brings us to the beginning of my story.

**********

"Hello?" I called out nervously as I walked into what would be my room for the next two semesters. I'd chosen my roommate with care from the site the college offered for incoming freshman months ago. Actually, I spent a couple of weeks obsessing over quite a few girls before I settled on Jenny. She was cute, but not really pretty. She was a good student and was part of a couple of clubs at her high school. She had a close knit group of friends, but didn't seem particularly popular based on her Facebook page. I thought she was perfect for what I was looking for in a roommate. In short, there was nothing about her that would draw unwanted attention to me.

It's not that I wanted to hide from the world, but by this point in my life I could do with a little less notoriety. I needed time to figure out exactly who I wanted to be. I'd spent two years working toward this day, but honestly now that I was here I was scared to death. What if I couldn't pull it off? What if I could, but I didn't like the new me any better than I did the old?

The worst part was that old saying was definitely true. No plan survives contact with reality. Or was that the enemy? I guess it doesn't matter. What does was that despite all my planning and research, Jenny waited until two days before we were due to arrive to let me know she was dropping out.

Okay, that's not quite fair. First of all, you can't drop out if you've never actually been to college. And second, she decided to take a year off, not quit. She didn't get into specifics as to why and honestly, I didn't ask. We weren't really friends yet so it didn't seem right to pry. Besides, I had bigger problems. How was I going to find a new roommate in two days?

The answer was that I wasn't. I had to leave it up to fate. Needless to say, I entered my dorm room with more than a little trepidation.

My new roommate was already inside, but she was sitting at her desk with a pair of headphones on and didn't hear me enter. She was watching some movie on her laptop. All I could see from behind was that she has long dark hair, not very different in color than my own shorter shoulder length locks. I walked in and dropped the bags I was carrying on the free bed.

"Hello?" I repeated. By this point I was close enough for her the hear me. She jumped a little before turning, smiling and pulling off the headphones. She stood a moment later. Definitely not what I was hoping for and I wasn't happy about it. This girl was far too pretty for my liking with her pale skin and deep brown eyes. She would draw a lot of attention which meant guys would be sniffing around. I really had enough of men for the time being.

"Hi!" she smiled. "You must be Amelia. I'm Sophie." Well, at least she was friendly.

"Call me Emma," I smiled in return. "All my friends do." Well, all my new friends would anyway. It was a new nickname, just like I was a new me.

Amelia was what I was called when I was younger. Everyone at high school knew me as Mia. I remember thinking how great it would be to be called that when we moved to the big city. It sounded exotic to me at the time. Like I was some foreign princess. That hadn't worked out all that well. I said a silent prayer that things would go better for me as Emma.

"Emma," she said thoughtfully. "I like that. I wish I could come up with a better nickname for Sophia, but Sophie is the best out of the bunch. Would you believe my mother actually suggested Fifi once?"

"Seriously?" I frowned. Who would call their daughter that?

"I told her if she wanted to call someone Fifi she should get herself a poodle." Friendly and a sense of humor. Things were looking up.

"I like the name Sophie," I offered. She rolled her eyes, but continued to smile. I found myself warming to my new roommate despite the fact that she was unplanned. I was still worried that she'd draw too much attention to us, but there was little I could do about that.

"Do you need help unpacking?" she asked kindly. Mom and dad took that moment to bustle in with some more of my stuff. I introduced them and we all spent the next twenty minutes setting my half of the room up. I didn't have all that much personal stuff because I'd left most of that at home since it wouldn't mesh with the new me.

"I love this top," Sophie said at one point as she helped hang up some of my clothes. I nodded and smiled in thanks, wondering what she would think if she knew that most of what I'd brought with me had never been worn before.

Mia wouldn't have been caught dead in any of them because they were far too colorful and feminine. The funny part was that Amelia would have thought of most of them as not feminine enough. No, these clothes were all Emma.

They say clothes made the woman and they had no idea how much I hoped that they were right. I had more butterflies in my stomach than I cared to think about. I was waiting for someone to see me with my new look and burst out laughing, but it didn't happen, at least not yet.

JoeDreamer
JoeDreamer
6,287 Followers