LAST NIGHT TOGETHER
by
Michael G. Hobson
Despite the promises made and the assurances given by all involved Jane was certain that once the ceremony ended everyone would hurry off the campus grounds, eager to embark on the next phase of their lives —everyone except for Jack, of course. Since the planning fell to her, as it always did, she arranged for everyone to gather at their usual place the night before graduation, a last night together, to commemorate their four shared years and celebrate their personal accomplishments. Along with mandatory attendance, each member of the group was instructed, at some point in the evening, to stand and share their feelings about the university experience and about each other, and to offer a glimpse into their promising future. Understanding the significance of her announcement, and not wanting to dampen the festivities, Jane insisted on speaking last.
Everyone obliged her and attended. They gathered at the campus pub, at the same chopping block table where they had assembled over the years, in assorted numbers, to eat mostly bland-tasting food, consume a varying amount of alcohol, and either laugh about or fret over the university experience. Anticipating a raucous evening she had collected a substantial down payment from each beforehand, in case an exorbitant bill was rung up or, in their excited and inebriated state, they inflicted minor property damage. It had happened before. Remy often considered drinking to be a contest and the winner being the last one standing.
The night began as she had hoped; everyone was in high spirits, enjoying each other’s company and laughing about old times. But callous remarks made, with amusement, by a tequila-sodden Remy were not received with the same delight by a gin-soaked Jack and suddenly the mood at the table soured. The evening quickly devolved into a verbal crossfire as long-held grievances and terse anecdotes cloaked in invective were aired. No one, it seemed, wanted to leave with any bullets unfired. Her attempts to slow the growing antagonism failed; her words were either ignored or shouted down. Frustrated, she sat back in her chair, covered her face with her hands, closed her eyes and remembered better days.
She was the central figure in the group’s formation, mostly through happenstance. Consequently, like a mother hen, she checked on each member with regularity, ensuring they remained in good spirits and were managing the difficult curriculum. The others soon became aware however, that the constant inspections were also due to Jane’s desire to avoid being alone. That fact was made clear in the early weeks of their freshmen year; Jane was in the campus pub every night, and not for the drink—she was still underage, she was there for the companionship.
Jane remembered standing beside her auditorium seat, on the second day of class, sliding her text book inside the monogrammed carrying case her mother bought for her; preparing to leave after a gruelling two-hour lecture on nineteenth century English Literature. She remembered thinking about the professor’s condescending manner when she heard two female students three rows down making caustic remarks about the professor’s pedantic tone. One particularly salient point caused her to snicker and she was embarrassingly late in covering her mouth. It didn’t matter; the girls were pleased to meet someone like-minded, and invited her to walk with them to their next class.
Bethany Gordon—six-feet tall with straight blonde hair, cropped at the shoulders, a round face and blue eyes, and Sarah James—a half-foot shorter with curly brown hair, a thin face and brown eyes, were born three months apart in the same suburban subdivision. Friends since pre-school they attended the same schools throughout the public educational system and were now in the same university and the same program as Jane. She quickly detected their love for silly puns and slapstick gags and so the three newly formed friends spent much of the following days together, laughing at silly jokes and slapping each other’s shoulders with glee. They began referring to themselves as the Bronte sisters.
Later that week, with her sisters in class, Jane explored the campus grounds, searching for a place of solitude to read an assigned novel. She wanted to feel the warmth of the day while reading; the sun was shining and she remembered a gentle breeze. She came across the perfect spot; two adjoining wooden benches, both empty, bolted into the edge of a concrete walkway. A thin parkette with baby trees lining the rear was behind the benches that faced a quiet one-spout water fountain that looked like a leaky faucet dripping into a cement basin.
She had read only a few pages when she was interrupted by a tall, thin, immaculately dressed male student with perfectly-groomed hair. She remembered glancing up from her book and seeing him approach, observing him as he walked past the fountain. She never asked if he saw her watching him but she remembered that he stopped just beyond the fountain, turned and casually walked toward her. He sat on the opposite end of her bench—presumably to deprive her of her solitude. She wanted to read; he wanted to talk. Her first impression—he was bold and arrogant, a hawk landing next to a lonely dove. She tried to keep her eyes in her book but Jeremiah Benton—he preferred Remy, continued to talk regardless. He had a gentle voice, maintained a safe distance on the bench, was respectful in tone and manner and possessed an ironic sense of humour. He made her smile, giggle and then laugh.
She remembered closing her book, lifting her knee up onto the bench—so she could face him, and talking about her friends, Bethany and Sarah, and about her boyfriend back home—an imaginary claim she used as protection from perceived hawks. He started talking about his friends, Jack Trimble and Michael Spencer—whom everyone called Spence, and about the lengthy relationship he had with a girl in high school—a relationship they agreed should end since their schools were now hundreds of miles apart. He asked if she and her friends would meet him and his friends at the campus pub later. Feeling secure in crowds she agreed. That night the Bronte sisters met Jack—shy and polite with a midsection that rolled as he moved, like a beach ball floating on water, and who took an immediate interest in Jane, and Spence—awkward and gangly who, with porcelain skin and a substantial Adam’s apple, looked like a pale version of Ichabod Crane. The group was now six.
Bethany and Sarah arrived at the chopping block table a few days later accompanied by a barrel-chested man with mulatto skin and a thick black moustache. They introduced Alex Moore to the group and then described a similar circumstance in meeting him to how they met Jane. As they walked to their next class with him, they discovered they had a common interest in sports, which surprised Jane as she had not heard either express any interest in competitive endeavours. Alex was activity-obsessed; he craved action. He played on both the football and hockey teams, constantly sought personal challenges, loved extreme events, and was a strident believer in the idiom—idle hands are the devil’s workshop.
Later that same week, as Jane was walking along the edge of the outdoor running track, she met Adam Canfield. She was despondent, after being cut from the university cross-country team, and was walking with her head down. She was a competitive runner in high school; relished the freedom running gave her, and loved the opportunity to challenge herself, but her times in the opening tryout failed to impress, and she could not persuade the coach to give her another chance. Adam was sitting in the upper corner of an empty aluminum grandstand, reading in his chosen place of solitude. He noticed her obvious disconsolation and bounded down the benches with the fluidity of a one-legged ostrich, nearly tripping when he hit ground. He was gasping for air and still trying to find his balance when he reached her. She heard him coming; it was impossible not to hear the thundering hooves. Her first thought—he looked unhealthy, thin, brittle, especially while bent over to catch his breath. When he stood up straight, she saw that he was quite a bit shorter than her. He said he knew her from class, but she couldn’t place him. She remembered being taken with his honest face and his genuine concern. He asked to walk alongside her, and then he proceeded to tell corny jokes and self-deprecating stories about his high school years to lighten her mood. It worked. That night she introduced the eighth and final member to the group.
Midway though the second year the group showed signs of splintering. Bethany and Sarah preferred being in the company of Alex and other athletic males, and slowly withdrew from Jane. She accompanied them to the occasional sporting match or extreme event, but while the explosion of testosterone excited her sisters it didn’t arouse her nearly as much. She was beginning to understand her preferences; that rugged athletic men didn’t interest her, and that she preferred the thoughtful and flawed type—like Jack or Remy or Adam or Spence…well, maybe not Spence. However, whenever those thoughtful and flawed types misbehaved or acted annoyingly immature, she questioned herself and wondered whether she had made a critical decision before accruing enough relevant information.
The splintering continued as Remy and Spence began doing God knows what most nights—they never said. Knowing their dynamic though, whatever they were doing, Remy was leading and Spence was following, leaving Jane alone most nights with Adam or Jack or both. She liked Adam and he liked her. They twice discussed the possibility of starting a relationship, but both times agreed to maintain the status quo. He appreciated having a trusted female friend and she wasn’t certain he evoked enough emotion for her to make the leap. Neither wanted to wreck their friendship.
Conversely, when she was alone with Jack, he would not only push for their union but he would go into great detail about their future as a married couple, about their two children and about their split-level home. Jack was considerate and caring, but she remembered feeling that there was some self-interest in his benevolence —that it was merely part of his effort to woo her. She felt conflicted, remembering that she felt like a contestant on a television dating show; which one would she choose. Each had strengths, each had weaknesses. One night, late last year, she was out with Remy and they got drunk. They ended up in a hotel room for the night. The next morning, as the fog cleared from her mind, she made her decision.
Her hope for a memorable last night together was fading with every insult, every condemnation, as the verbal shooting gallery continued to fire around her. She had memorized a speech, wanting to thank them each of them for helping maintain her equilibrium throughout the roller coaster ride of university life, but as the wrangling intensified her frustration grew. She tried to get Jack’s attention, hoping a caring, compassionate man would immediately call for an end to the acrimony, but Jack wasn’t looking at her, he was staying alert for any opening to strike with his own brand of vitriol. She bent forward in her seat, wrapping her arms around her stomach, trying to slow the acid rushing inside her, but like lava rising inside an active volcano it burst through the surface. She bolted out of her chair.
“That’s it! That’s enough! I’ve heard enough!” She glared at each of her rapidly quieting table-mates. “What’s wrong with you? I don’t understand. This is our last night together. I thought you wanted what I wanted. That no matter how much time passed in our lives, no matter where we were in the world, when we thought of this night we would smile. I had a speech, you know. I didn’t even need to write it down. I wanted it come from the heart. I wanted to tell you, each of you, how much you meant to me; that I doubt whether I could have made it through these four years without you, and that I will love each of you, every day for the rest of my life. But you ruined it…ruined it…acting like you can’t stand being in the same room together. I had so much to say…but I can’t now. I’m too upset. So, before I say something I might regret later, let me say…Jack and I…we’re engaged.”