The constant diving into the past was too much last night. I had to get out. The drive into Hanover reminded me how few free nights I had before classes started.
The Canoe Club had beats and a crowd. They were four deep at the bar. DeVote, a dance party for area charities, was in full swing. One of the best bartenders around managed the 100+ people. Daniel caught sight of me and had a drink in my hand within seconds. I would say his great service was nights of good tipping by Scott and me, but Daniel is just that good.
The party was an odd mix of Tuckies, other grad students, and townies. My throat still hurts from trying to talk over bass lines from DJ Shara’s mixes. She’s also that good, but I must be getting old. Or it’s just premature senioritis. All of this reminiscing has me in a different state of mind. I just want to be done and out of here, but I have no idea where to go, or what to do.
I understand why Tom doesn’t party. It felt like everyone was trying too hard, that something was missing, and drinking didn’t fix it. I blame myself for part of it, at least. I went out alone, and that was stupid, especially with these memories of Africa running free in my head. The experience in those foothills so far away was such a stark contrast to the luxuries we have in this bubble of reality called Hanover. A woman could never walk alone there. Not by day. Certainly not in the night. It didn’t matter if you were in the city or Zululand, someone would find you. Someone would hurt you.
Rant aside, it didn’t feel right to be out. Not after what happened, even two years past.
The other scars had a sharp ache they never had before. A reminder that pulsed with the music. A reminder I kept hidden under shirts, sweaters, whatever I could. I didn’t want anyone to see them. The marred flesh on my shoulder was smaller now, but it would raise questions I didn’t want to answer.
I thought I saw her last night amid one of the groups leaving. Lucy.
Another stray memory haunting me. I pressed a hand into my shoulder.
The bullet had been real enough.