Round Table

 Sometimes I feel like I’m watching Sims swim around a swimming pool without a ladder.

And I get it, it sucks that there’s no ladder, but you’d think they would at least try to hoist themselves over the side. 

But no, they just keep swimming and swimming.

When I was in college, I already had the ability to hoist myself over. But for some reason, I kept jumping back into the pool, spending hours and hours inside until my fingers and toes turned to raisins. 

Maybe because they weren’t just Sims. They were my friends. Or worse, they were family.

—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—---

Benjamin and Marie lived in the same housing complex that he grew up in. At this point, I knew their neighborhood like the back of my hand, as I taught at the local high school. This “sketchy area” of New York (as my mom put it when I got the job) had been falling apart ten, no, fourteen years ago, when we first met. Now it was…can I put it nicely? No, I cannot. 

Once you passed the gentrified part of town, you saw the heart of the neighborhood. The broken heart, that is. It was coated in graffiti, and not the cool, Banksy-style graffiti either. Just slurs and profanity and really badly done drawings. And as the sidewalks got more cracked, the houses became more run-down, and the trees became more and more scarce, I knew I was almost at Benjamin’s condo. 

Breathe in, breathe out. I reminded myself as I pulled into a parking spot, catching my eye in the car’s mirror. Quite honestly, I looked the same as I did when I got the car at seventeen. The same blue eyes piercing my reflection.

You know who you are. I said aloud as I stared my reflection down in the mirror. You’re thirty-two years old. Get out of your car and knock on the goddamn door. But as I obeyed, I started questioning everything. You haven’t seen these guys in years. Isn’t there a reason for that? 

But by that time, I had already knocked on the door. After hearing some scuffle from inside, the door creaked open to reveal the man, the myth, the legend, the Benjamin. 

If Benjamin owned a razor, it was not evident from the beard he sported that could rival a bear, or one of those guys from Lord of the Rings. He had grown his hair out since college, and his greasy golden-brown locks now fell past his shoulders. 

“Uh, hey man. Long time no see.” I said awkwardly. God, I haven’t been this nervous in years. What’s wrong with me? But as he offered me his hand to shake, I started to remember why. Behind him, paint was chipping off the walls, the stairs’ railing was breaking, and empty bottles of liquor littered the house.

Still, he gestured for me to come inside with the words, “Hey brother, welcome home.” At that point, I knew that everything that would happen here tonight would take me on a trip down memory lane.

Benjamin always had a way of making you feel like family. When we were in college, he rounded up a bunch of people from all different walks of life - different states, families, majors, etc - united us into a group, and called us the “Boston Tea Party.” I will say that it took a lot out of me to restrain myself from pointing out that the Boston Tea Party was not an actual tea party, but a riot to protest taxation without representation. That wasn’t the point, after all. The point was that he built this family. 

Of course, every family had their fights. That’s why this one hasn’t seen each other in years, I thought as I followed Benjamin into the house, I heard Marie yelling, “Lexie, Liz, no running in the house!” responded to by the sound of her children groaning. The last time I really saw these guys was when Liz was born. Now she was running around, laughing, wreaking havoc, three years old? No, four. 

Out of breath, Marie came up to us and gave me a big hug. “Oh, Mark, it’s so good to see you. It’s been too long.” I looked down at her hugging my torso, as she never reached five feet tall. (Guatemalans were not blessed with the gift of height).

Too long, huh. I stole a quick look at Benjamin’s bearlike figure before forcing a smile and looking back at her. “Well, you know me. Always working.”

“Ugh, you work too hard.” She patted me on the back (where she  could reach, of course) and led me to the dining room, which consisted of two plastic tables and a collection of assorted folding chairs, also plastic. “Come, sit.”

A rush of guilt came over me as I awkwardly sat down next to Marie in a house where the only beautiful things were the family photos. The walls were full of pictures of their three girls. Liz, who was four now, Lexie, who was eight, and Summer, who was thirteen. 

“You know, Mark, if you think of it, this dinner is like our ten year reunion.” Benjamin mused as he sat down at the head of the table. “Even if I never finished.” He said, quieter.

Marie jumped in, always quick to defend him. “He had to provide for our kiddos, you know how it is.” 

I do not have kids and therefore do not know how it is. All I remember is Benjamin could barely handle 12 credits before the kid. But I couldn’t say that. So I eventually mustered up, “At least you did, Marie.” I said after a pause. “Finished, I mean.” Finishing college was Marie’s shining accomplishment. 

“Yeah, I did.” She sighed, looking to where her diploma hung in the center of the wall. “But right now, I gotta be a mom.” Her eyes then lingered to the pictures surrounding it. 

“I wouldn’t trade any of them for a million degrees.” Benjamin boasted proudly. His eyes wandered off, and right then and there he noticed his oldest daughter standing in the doorway, and he jumped out of his seat. “Summer! Speaking of, haha. There’s someone I want you to meet.” 

After a moment, I realize he’s talking about me. Of course he is, I’m the only “new” person in the room. Someone I want you to meet, he says. Has it really been that long?

“This is Mark,” Benjamin says, gesturing to me. “We went to college together.” 

Summer nods in recognition. “Oh, you’re Mr. Flynn, right? You coach the debate team at the high school?” 

I nodded my head. “Yes, that’s me. I also teach English. But, uh, Summer, you can just call me Mark right now, however…weird that may be.”

There was a time when I called Benjamin my brother. I hated how unfamiliar I felt with his family now.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Mar-...no, I think I’m gonna keep calling you Mr. Flynn.” She shook my hand and went into the kitchen. 

Immediately the words escaped my mouth. “She’s so big.” I kept it together while she was in the room, but I couldn’t contain myself any longer. “Like, next year, she could be one of my students, I just-”

And suddenly Benjamin cuts me off. “We’ve grown up.” With that, the doorbell rings, and he goes after it.

I sighed. It feels like just yesterday we were 18/19, huddled around Marie’s positive pregnancy test in Benjamin’s dorm room. Her asking Benjamin “what are we gonna do” over and over again. 

Marie’s voice broke through my reminiscing. “He’s been working at that same McDonalds he’s been at since he was 18. He works hard, but money’s tight.” She gestures around the room, voice breaking. “Obviously.” 

Suddenly it became apparent why I stopped showing my face around here - because I never knew what to say. Now, once again, I’m an English major without the right words. 

“I love him. I love our family.” She sighed, looking anywhere but in my eyes. “Sometimes I want better. But this is what we got.” I leaned over and put my arm around her as she tried to cover up her tears. As she buried my head in my shoulder, she repeated: “This is what we got.”

The surroundings said it all. A home that was quite literally falling apart. A man who had to drop out of college to provide for his family. A child unplanned, and later two more. A woman unsatisfied. A cycle unbroken.

—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—---

I didn’t recognize the man that Benjamin brought into the dining room, despite having known him since our freshman year of college. In my head, I knew what he became, but my heart was never able to accept it. 

I met Finn in my first week of college. With bright orange hair, you could’ve seen him from miles and miles away. It was like his head was on fire. Back then, we bonded over hating Yu-Gi-Oh cards, which the rest of our group loved, and our desire to be the change we want to see in the world. For lack of a better word, he was going to be an influencer, funding people’s ideas and “creating a community.”

Instead he’s an accountant. With brown hair. 

“Hey y’all.” He said awkwardly as he shuffled into the room wearing a short sleeved white button down and a tie. “Sorry I’m late, I came straight from the office.”

“You look like a Mormon.” I blurted out. He winced but said nothing, per usual.

“Hey, be nice.” Marie said reproachfully.

But I couldn’t hold myself back. Seeing Finn as a depressed accountant betrayed the ideals that he preached in my dorm room at three in the morning. He was gonna help people. He was supposed to help people.  

“How’s Grandma doing?” I taunted. Not only did he work as an accountant, but for his rich family’s firm. Nepo baby.

“I’m trying my best! I’ve ALWAYS been trying my best!” He retorted angrily. 

“And your best is working for grandma because you have connections with 15 million dollar industries. I get it, I really do! You did what was best for you, Finn.” I could barely look at him. 

Immediately I was 18 years old again, back on the floor of my dorm, trying to explain to him that I don’t have rich relatives to fall back on. My parents were immigrants. I was the first generation to go to college in America. And I worked hard for my future, throwing myself into every opportunity I could find.  

He works for his grandma. “We were supposed to pursue our dreams, Finn! Help people!” I looked him right in the eyes, only to wince and turn away. “What happened?”

He averted his gaze just like he averted my question. “Ideas didn’t work out.” He mumbled under his breath. 

“Mark, that’s enough. We’re here to remember the good times, not…” Benjamin cut in just to trail off. Of course he would say that. His good times consist solely of long-distant memories. 

“I’m an accountant, Mark. Just because you had all your dreams come true doesn’t mean the rest of us are that lucky.” He sighed, anxiously running his hands through his naturally-colored hair. 

I opened my mouth to interrupt and was stopped. 

“I’m an accountant, Mark. You don’t need to keep rubbing it in my face. Grandma was someone I could fall back on. Now? I’m next in line for a promotion. But I’m tired all the time, I hate what I do, but I ain’t helping anyone, and I don’t get to pursue what I love.” 

Finally I looked at him. Past the brown hair, past the Mormon clothes, and noticed the bags under his eyes. The fire in his hair and eyes had gone out. 

Voice breaking, he said, “You know what I love.”

“I know what you love.” I sighed. “You could sing like a Disney princess when we were in school.” 

Just like that, he leapt into “do you remembers?” “Do you remember that open mic night we did? Where we sang-”

“A Whole New World, yeah. And you ran out the dining hall halfway through!” I laughed. “I had to finish the song without you!” 

“I got stage fright, Mark, you know that.” He came over and sat next to me as we continued to reminisce. 

“You know, I only called you a Mormon because of your obsession with that song from the musical-”

“You and me but mostly me!” He grinned. “Like when we snuck into the auditorium!”

“Exactly!” I grinned.

“I haven’t had that much fun in years.” He sighed. “I barely even see Sam because we’re both drowning in work, and we live together.” Sam is, of course, Finn’s husband. Finn met Sam our freshman year, and hasn’t let him out of his sight since. “I miss this. What happened to us?”

Suddenly the verbal “do you remembers?” were pushed aside, as we remembered we’re not 18 anymore, we’re 32. Time is what happened to us. He became an accountant, I became a teacher, and we no longer live in the dorms. Life is what happened to us. 

—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—---

Somewhere in my reminiscing, I completely missed the ringing of the doorbell. Suddenly Benjamin was returning with Ali, who never finished college either. Instead, he went back to his country, and…

“Ali? I thought you went back to India!” I blurted out, as Finn and I stood up to shake his hand. 

“Yeah, hey guys.” He said in monotone as he shook first Finn’s hand, then mine. “India didn’t have anything for me, so…I came back.”

“Well, shit, dude, what are you up to now?” You’d think he’d reach out after coming back to America or something. I haven’t heard anything from him since junior year of college.

Ali fidgeted awkwardly with his hideous long nails. He’s always had them. In freshman year Math, he sat in front of me, and would always tap his nails on the desk. I could barely concentrate.

“Uh, I’ve been around, I guess. Couldn’t really hold down a job. I really wanted to make it in LA, but…” He sighed. “Anyway, now I work at the new Chinese place in the World Trade Center.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here for Benjamin’s reunion!” Finn smiled. It was so easy for Finn to take someone as they are. I’ve always had this need to get all the answers. Here I was grilling this guy before he could even sit down. As I reflected, finally, he did, sitting across from Finn.

In college, Ali was quiet until he got drunk. Before he did, you could almost think he had it together. Sure, he slept through class sometimes (a lot of times), but he was doing alright. 

Until the weekend before our first semester finals. Him and I went to a party with Derek. He was another one of our friends of the time.

Ali bought vodka from an older girl for 20 bucks and swapped shots all night with Derek. He got absolutely hammered and started spilling his guts. He talked a lot more when he was drunk, come to think of it, and even flirted with me by constantly reminding me of his bisexuality. He was more willing to open up. He was a happy drunk…until he wasn’t.

Until he started talking about Kishan. The first boy he ever loved, no, the only boy he ever loved. He started describing these incredibly romantic moments, how everything was perfect when they were together. But he was apparently too clingy and then not clingy enough and then he lost him.

When Ali went back to India, it was to see Kishan again. 

If it worked out, he wouldn’t be sitting across the table from us.

As it was, the five of us were chatting and reminiscing about the old days and things that had happened since. The first female president, the codification of same-sex marriage into law, the Red Sox beating the Yankees again. Finn’s marriage to Sam, Benjamin and Marie’s children, Ali back in states, and my career. 

All was great until the doorbell rang, and Lexie ran into the dining room. “Daddy, daddy, daddy, is Uncle Derek here?” 

Benjamin grinned and stood up, saying, “Well, kiddo, let’s go find out!” He scooped her in his arms and they went to the door.

“He’s so good with her,” Finn commented. “I can’t believe y’all are parents.” But I was fixated on something else.

Uncle Derek. Huh.

Lo and behold, Lexie is right, and “Uncle” Derek is on the other side of the door. Once again, I am reminded of yesterday. 

—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—---

It doesn’t matter how old I get or how many accomplishments I have. The second I see Derek, I’m 18 years old again, begging for his approval, begging him to change, and at the same time, wishing that I would be someone who he approved of.  

“Long time no see, bro!” Ali says cheerfully as Derek comes in with his wife, Beth. 

“Ali! It’s been too long!” He replied to Ali, then looked at Finn. “Finn! How are you and Sam doing?” 

“He’s my rock. Can’t complain.” Finn says and shakes his hand. 

Now he brought his eyes to me. It was the first time I had been in the same room with Derek in God-knows how many years. The tension could be cut with a knife as we waltzed with our eyes, looking and then looking away.

“Long time, no see,” I said cordially.

“Yeah. Long time.” I felt his eyes weighing upon me.

I used this opportunity to play “spot-the-difference” between what he was now and who he used to be. If you could believe it, he was skinnier than he ever was in school. I swear you could see his ribs sticking out of his chest. The bags he had developed under his eyes in our first semester had made a home on his face. The world had brought him down in these last ten years. 

Good. Just like he brought me down.

My gaze switched now to his wife (whom, unlike the theme of the night, he did not meet in college), and I gasped, as her legs and arms were covered in bruises. “Beth? What happened to your…” I blurted out, and then faltered.

She looked herself up and down anxiously, then looked at Derek, who gave her an overbearing stare. “Oh! Uh, I, just, fell down the stairs! Yeah. I’m okay though!” She said, incredibly jumpy. I gave Derek a look, which he ignored, as he was staring down his wife. 

I knew him better than that. “Fell down the stairs,” my ass. 

But suddenly Benjamin was hitting his glass with a spoon, calling us to attention. Derek and Beth sat down next to Ali and I reminded myself that it’s not my job, nor my place, to call out the world’s bullshit. 

“Welcome, everyone, to our ten year reunion! I’m really glad you all could make it.” Benjamin announced as Marie brought out a tray of sandwiches. “Let me make a toast,” he said as he raised his glass, “to family, friends, and-”

I made the mistake of looking at Beth, then to Derek, and suddenly everything I ate that morning was rising up in my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?” I blurted out.

Benjamin pointed to his right and I ran for the hills.

—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—---

Derek and I went to a party the weekend before finals. And Ali, but you know that part already. Ali bought a bottle of vodka for $20, which you know, and he shared with Derek. 

I don’t drink. It messed with my medication, and I just hated the taste anyways. 

Derek hated to admit it, but he was a lightweight. Alcohol hit him like a truck, and it never brought out the best of him. Maybe the worst, in fact. He wanted to go after this “ginger goddess,” as he described her, but unfortunately for him, she was surrounded by, well, most of the guys at that party. I must have said something he didn’t like after. It’s been so many years that I don’t remember. I just remember suddenly he grabbed me by the lapels of my jacket and called me a dumbass, over, and over, and over again. He was skinnier than me (still is, apparently), and logically, I could’ve probably taken him, but suddenly, and all at once, I was frozen. 

To this day, I don’t remember how it really started, but especially not how it ended. Instead, I have two frames alternating in my mind - shaking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. (Sometimes, at night, when I close my eyes, those frames play on repeat. It’s okay. Derek told me once, when I finally had the courage to bring it up to him, that he didn’t think it was a big deal, and that I was overreacting).

Still I was the one, that night, who made sure he got back safe to the dorms. I was the one who listened to him while he went off about love, just like he was doing now. 

“I used to sleep around,” He started storytelling to the whole table like we didn’t all live through it. I remembered his monologues, insisting he was the most tortured of souls as he slept with everyone he could and then cried when they left before he woke up. “I convinced myself every girl was the one, and then…” He gestured to Beth. “Then I met the one.” Beth turned red, and I saw purple as her blush combined with the blue of her bruises.

“Hey, can someone pour me another class?” Derek called, and Benjamin was right there with a bottle of Tito’s. I noticed both wives wincing as the liquid poured. 

“Mark, you want any?” Benjamin asked, but I shook my head.

“I don’t drink.” I reminded him.

“You sure? We’re not 18 anymore, it’s legal now.” 

“I don’t drink.” I stood firm. I hated that alcohol was the one drug deemed socially acceptable, because each and every hair on my body stood up at the sight of intoxication. As I watched Derek down the entire glass, I began to smell it lingering on his breath and around the room. People don’t smoke cigarettes inside, or Marijuana, but yet I didn’t consent to this newfound perfumery, I’m supposed to just accept that this is how the world is. I’m not a prude, I promise. Just every time the smell touches my nostrils, I’m 18 again, at that party, frozen. “You used to drink all night.” I muttered under my breath as Derek grabbed the bottle.

“I’m an adult, I can do what I want.” Derek retorted, slamming the bottle on the table. This is the part where my therapist would tell me to take a deep breath, in and out. Then another one. Then-

“Don’t you remember?” I slammed my fist on the table, turning red as I delivered the line. “Delivered the line.” We were actors after all, and I was trying to act like I was okay with him after all these years. I think he was trying to do the same. Until-

“You think you’re so much better than everyone else, don’t you?” At that point, he stopped trying. Suddenly every drop of alcohol in his blood became evident as he stood up, showcasing his inability to walk in a straight line. To Beth’s credit, she tried to hold him back, but her feeble attempts were no use. He stumbled assertively towards me, despite the contradiction in that statement. 

“Oh, “I don’t drink,” what, Mark, you think you’re too good for the stuff? I’ve watched you for years, Mark, going on about your “I can’t drink, I’m on medication” bullshit. No, Mark, I see right fucking through you. You think you’re better than me, don’t you? Than all of us?” Derek grabbed the empty Tito’s bottle and slammed it on the table. “I see right fucking through you. I always have. Watching you look down on the rest of us, our careers, our families, but you know what, Mark? At least we’re fucking living.”

I wanted to say something, I really did, but he shut me up. It was like we were 18 again.

“Yeah, you have your perfect career. You’ve wanted to be a teacher since your junior year of high school, and congrats, you’re doing it!” His praise of my success was coated in layers and layers of sarcasm, like it was bundling up for our New England winters. Now, with an evil glint in his eye (if he was on The Office, this would be a moment where he’d look into the camera), he added this. “But you came here alone…didn’t you?”

I came here alone. 

“Finn has had Sam since our freshman year. Benjamin has Marie and their extraordinary family. I, somehow, have been lucky enough to have and keep Beth.” He looked at her with a smile, and she did smile back, but I couldn’t help but look at her bruises. Yet he persevered in his rhetoric. “Even Ali - no offense - and not that you ever reached out to ask him - is seeing someone.” His hands turned into arrows as he gestured to the people at the table. “But you. You’re as empty as you were at 18, aren’t you?”

There were a million things I wanted to say. That he hasn’t seen me in years outside of social media, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, that he’s wrong. And besides, look at the state of his wife!

Benjamin tried to cut him off, and if Benjamin is bothering to hold him back, you know something must be really wrong. “Derek, that’s enough-”

Derek picked his glass up to slam it on the table. “No. You’re thirty-two years old and you never learned a goddamn thing about love.” Derek asserted. 

Arguments were flooding through my head. I’ve had crushes! I’ve gone on dates! I was on dating apps! I had boyfriends! I had girlfriends! “I- You’ve watched me have partners!” I tried to protest. The red was coloring my face again as I turned into the Polish flag. 

“Not for longer than two weeks at a time.” Marie chimed in. I gave her a look of “I thought you were on my side.” 

“And every time you’d dump them because you were ‘too busy’ or ‘didn’t imagine yourself spending the rest of your life with them.’” Derek mocked. “You thought you’d find the love of your life at 18? Look around.”

I wanted to tell him that he was wrong. But he wasn’t wrong. I could rage all I want, raising my fists in the air, screaming and shouting, “Who the hell are you, acting like you know who I am?” But I wasn’t him. I never was. I was always too soft, too sensitive, and unfortunately, he was right. 

No, I wasn’t immune to the dating apps or meet-cutes. But every time I’d get into a relationship, I’d have this aching feeling in my gut, screaming at the top of its lungs, “THIS AIN’T RIGHT.” It wasn’t him, or her, or them, it was the idea of them, of being in a relationship. 

I looked around the table and saw a group of people who had known love. Benjamin and Marie. Derek and Beth. Finn and Sam. As Derek pointed out, Ali is seeing someone (even if it's not Kishan), and I? I didn’t even bother to ask, well anything. I’ve been so obsessed with my career, so obsessed with who I’ll be, that I neglected to ask who I’ll be standing next to when I get there. 

Apparently, no one.

“What? You got something to say?” Derek taunted. When I failed to reply, he smirked like the bully I knew him to be. “That’s what I thought!” He was right. I didn’t know what to say. 

But she did. Suddenly Beth stood up, her bruises and scars shining in the light. “Derek, I am absolutely sick and tired of you bringing the world down with you!” Beth snapped, her high pitched voice like a chihuahua that learned to bark for the first time. “I’m tired of you bringing ME down with you?” 

“What are you even talking about, woman?” He rolled his eyes, unfazed and poured himself yet another glass. 

“Do you want me to tell them, Derek? Do you want me to tell all your little friends who you really are?” Her condescension could be heard all the way to Boston. 

The rest of us sat on the edges of our seats…except for Derek, who scoffed at her words, moving on from glasses to bottles. “Shut up, will you?” 

To which Beth replies, at the top of her lungs, “I DIDN’T FALL DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS!” Suddenly every jaw in the room was open [except for Derek’s, of course]. 

“He came home…drunk…again… I don’t think there’s a day he’s been sober in years…” 

“Alright, that’s enough.” He said harshly, trying to shut her up.

“I was used to him being drunk at this point,” She started, now unable to look at him, “but he was brought home with another woman. Some Australian. He said Sofia was the love of his life.” Beth looked down at her bruises. “I got mad and we started fighting and he pushed me. I mean, look.” She gestured to her battle scars. 

Sofia…I remember that name from college-

He shook his head. “Beth, I was stupid, and drunk, but I love you-” Derek started to defend himself. 

“Don’t act like you know the first thing about love, because you don’t. You don’t love me, you never did.” She started sobbing now.

“You’re going to do this now? In front of all my friends?”

“Yes, I am, Derek. I’m tired of your hypocrisy.” She retorted. “You call yourself an actor but you know what, Derek? It was me acting all these years. Pretending to still love you. So I’m leaving.” 

Beth then did what she probably wanted to do for years. She grabbed her bag and walked out, not looking back once. 

What really surprised me was that no one tried to stop her. Not Derek. Not Benjamin or Marie, who had known her for the last ten years. No one cared to go after her and ask if she was okay or needed anything. Part of me wanted to, but I feared it wasn’t my place, so I just stared out the window until she got into an Uber. 

—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—---

No one knew what to say after that. Even after a few minutes, the most I could come up with was, “So much for love, huh?” This, of course, sparked a reaction from Derek. 

“You shut your mouth, Mark!” 

I’m no longer eighteen. I’m no longer eighteen. I’m no longer afraid of him. And with adrenaline rushing through my veins, I retorted “What, are you gonna take it out on me like you took it out on your wife?” I then added, “Like you took it out on me? In college?”

“Who do you think you are?” He screamed.

“I wanted you to get better!” I retaliated. That’s still true. 

People aren’t ever good or bad, they just are. The things they do are good or bad, sure, but you can’t define someone with a word that simple. Saying that he’s a bad person erases the boy I knew in college who was vulnerable and empathetic, and dare I say it, kind. 

Why am I defending him?

It wasn’t even “forgiveness” at that point, because you can’t forgive someone who won’t take accountability for what he’s done. It wasn’t for him, it was for me, in a sense to prove that I’m not insane. I promise. I once knew a man genuine inside, but he’s lost now, buried beneath the booze and the anger. And for now-

“Well, too fucking bad.” He hurled back, knocking his glass off the table. He watched it shatter into a million pieces, and for the first time his face looked solemn. “Maybe if the theaters, or the movies, or the spotlights wanted me. But no. Instead, I’m directing a middle school version of Shrek the Musical.”

We both minored in education. But while I really did want to teach, his dream was to act. He wanted Broadway, or at least the Boston Opera House. He wanted Hollywood, or at least to be in front of a camera. 

Instead, he’s an alcoholic middle school theater director. 

“It seems none of us got our dreams,” Finn said quietly, silencing the table. 

“What did you wanna do, Finn?” I asked. It’s always me that speaks up in these moments, isn’t it? This time, there was no anger in my voice. “Come on. We’re 18, 19 again, meeting for the first time. Who did you want to be?” I encouraged him.

“I wanted to help people.” He said quietly. I nodded. Then louder, he repeats himself. “I wanted to help people. Make connections. Invest in them. Provide them with the resources to take their ideas further.” Then he sighed.

Ali suddenly spoke up. “I wanted to be a doctor.” Then he sighed. “But I never had the guts.”

Derek sighed and looked up. “Well, I wanted to be an actor. You all know that.”

“You were good back then, you know?” I replied before I could help myself. This was true. 

He cracked a smile for maybe the first time all night. “I’d like to think I’m still good now.” Then he turned solemn. “But it doesn’t matter. I direct middle school theater, and the whole time, I wish the spotlight would shine on me again. But my time’s over.”

I think he finally realized that no amount of alcohol would change that. Part of me wanted to say something, but the other part knew it wasn’t my place. 

After all, I still couldn’t look him in the eyes. That would always be true. Because if I looked up, it would no longer be the boy that I loved - who confided in me about his desires and downfalls in the dressing room for our first college theater performance, who was the first to fight my anxiety when I’d convince myself that I was hated, who even gave Benjamin a place to go for the holidays when his parents didn’t want him home. No, while that boy was still in there (he has to be, right?), you couldn’t see him on the surface anymore. Sometimes I wish I could pull him out of the shell he’s built over the years - I’d do it in a heartbeat. 

So I just say, “Benjamin? What about you?” to which Marie says “research” at the same time Benjamin says, “With her.” 

“I got my dream,” He smiled. The table joined in a collective “aww,” with the exception of Marie, who was surprised to say the least.

“But what about school? The lab? Your dreams of research?” She questioned. What about more?

“It doesn’t matter. You do, and our beautiful girls. My dream since I met you was to spend my life with you and start a family, and well, we did that. I wouldn’t want to change a thing.” He replied. 

“I would.” Marie burst out, maybe without meaning to, but now it was there, out in the open. I had never seen a room more silent. After what I’d call the “teacher’s wait time,” she finally spoke again, giving the explanation the room craved. 

“I wanted to graduate on time. Sure, I did eventually, but I can’t work now because of the kids. I wanted to use that degree, Benjamin. I wanted to go into research. Hell, I wanted to go into research with you! Not have a husband who works at the same McDonald’s he’s been at since 18 years old. Then he comes home and…” She gestured to the empty bottles of alcohol scattered across this table alone and sighed. “We were supposed to break the cycle, Benjamin. Not raise our kids in the same government housing you grew up in.”

“I’m doing the best I can, Marie!” Benjamin yelled. 

“You’re doing your best, we get it, Benjamin!” She yelled. “But is it enough? Summer’s going to be in high school next year! How the hell do you think we’re going to afford college? She deserves better than us, Benjamin! And at the same time, I can’t help but think “what if we didn’t have her?” You could’ve finished your degree and we could’ve pursued our dream.” She put her head in her hands. “Of course I love our family. But I can’t help but think “what if things were different?””

I can’t look at him. I can’t look at her. So I look to the door, and see it cracked open, with a set of eyeballs peeking through. I don’t know how long Summer’s been listening, but I despise the idea of that kid hearing any of what Benjamin and Marie just said. 

I quietly got up and nudged her to follow me outside. 

—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—----—---

We sat on the steps of Benjamin and Marie’s condo as she crossed her arms - not angry, scared. I looked at her, like truly looked at her for the first time in years. Her dad’s hazel eyes. Her mom’s frizzy brown hair. And I knew she had her mom’s smile, from when I talked to her about the debate team. But not now. 

I finally broke the silence. “How much did you hear?” I blurted out. 

“Enough to know I’m an accident.” She muttered. “I knew that. But I wish they didn’t say it.” She sighed. “But more than that, I’m a regret.” 

“You’re not a regret,” I said immediately. 

“But Mom said-”

“Did you know I was one of the first people to meet you when you were born?” I asked her. She shook her head. “It was one of the first days after you and your family left the hospital, and Derek and I went to visit you and your parents. She was tired, yes, I don’t think she had slept in three days. But your mom said that she became whole when she had you. Fell in love with you immediately. Wouldn’t let either Derek or I hold you for more than a minute without getting nervous and missing you.” I laughed at the memory. “She loves you, Summer.”

Summer teared up, burying her head in her sleeve. I put my arm around her to comfort her, and we stayed like that for a while. I started thinking about the baby she used to be, back in the fall of ‘25, and the young woman she had grown into. I kept thinking of Benjamin saying he’d “break the cycle,” only for his daughter to be a teen pregnancy, just like him. She deserved better than what she got. But what can you do?

“Is it true?” She asked out of nowhere, as I looked at her, confused. “I’m never gonna get to go to college?

I looked her directly in the eyes, and suddenly it wasn’t Benjamin or Marie’s face I saw in hers. It was Rose’s. 

Rose was my first friend on campus. I moved her in on the first day and packed her up at the end of the semester. I guess you could call it closure, except I never wanted that door to close. Packing her things into garbage bags, the same way they got here. She went back to provide for her family. For her siblings, whom she loved more than anything. When she left, I kept telling my mom that she was so brave. Going back to Iowa with no complaints, ready to be what everyone needed her to. The perfect daughter, the perfect sibling, ready to work two jobs and give up on her dreams. From double major to college dropout. 

“When I was in college, I had a friend who was struggling. Her name was Rose, and she actually had to drop out. She was a small town girl, I was a city boy, and there was no midnight train in our cards.” The Journey reference slipped out before I could catch myself. 

“It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. But she kept going, with plans to go back and eventually get a license or certificate or something. And when my mom asked me if I was worried about her, do you wanna know what I said?” Summer nodded her head, and I continued. ““She’ll always find a way. It may not be Plan A, or Plan B, or even Plan F, but she will find a way.”” I said, as confidently as I could muster. “And she did. And I believe you can find your way too. But you’re gonna have to work for it, alright?”

“I will, Mr. Flynn.” Summer said determinedly. 

I was back into teacher mode. “That means working really hard at school. Making sure your grades are good. And taking every opportunity you can get. Can you do that?”

She nodded. “Yes, Mr. Flynn. At least, I think so.” 

“Well, I know so, Summer. When you get up to the high school, I’ll be there. You know where to find me if you ever need anything.” I told her. “And I told you that you could call me Mark.” I reminded her.

“Thanks, Mr. Flynn.” She grinned.

“You’re stubborn, aren’t you?” I remarked, and she laughed. “You know, the rest of them were talking about their dreams in there.”

“I know.” She said quickly, too quickly, and then blushed. 

“Someone was eavesdropping!” I raised my eyebrows, pretending to be mad as she giggled. “Anyway, I never got to name mine. Would you like to hear it?”

“Of course.”

“I wanted to be a high school teacher.”

She burst out in glee, “And you are one!”

“That’s right, kiddo.” I smiled proudly. “I had incredible teachers when I was in high school, role models who I look up to to this very day. When I struggled- and Summer, I struggled a lot in high school- I had this amazing support system. I became a teacher because I wanted to be that support system for the next generation. So right now? I’d say my dream came true, didn’t it?” And suddenly her arms were around me, hugging me. “You’re gonna make it, kiddo. I know you will.” Deep in my heart, I knew that was true. 

She smiled as she released me from her embrace. “Thank you for everything, Mr. Flynn.” With that, she went back inside. 

As I’m sitting on the steps of Benjamin and Marie’s house, feeling sorry for myself, I feel my phone start buzzing. A call from Rose, of all people. While I tried to stay in contact as much as I could, we just lived such different lives now. There were no direct flights from Logan to her part of Iowa. But whenever she calls, I will always answer. 

“Hey Rose!” I said excitedly. “What’s up? I was just thinking of you!” 

“Mark, you’re never gonna believe this!” She replied. “Brody and I are getting married!” 

“Oh…congratulations Rose.” I tried to sound as happy as I could over the phone. 

“You remember him, right? My high school sweetheart? I told you about him in college…” She went off about this man and how great he became, but all I heard were my memories - her complaining about him in college, calling her names, cheating on her, then running back when he deemed it convenient. 

“Will you come to the wedding?” Rose asked. 

“Of course I will.” I said. “I’m glad you guys…made things work after all these years.”

“Me too.” She replied. “The wedding’s June 30th. I know it’s only a month away, but we didn’t really want to wait any longer. Plus we can’t afford a big wedding.” 

“It’s your wedding. I’ll be there.” I responded simply. 

“I can’t wait to see you again! It’s been so long.” She said. 

“Agreed.” All at once I felt a sickening feeling in my stomach. “Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll, uh, catch up with you later.” I hung up without waiting for her goodbye. 

I ran into my car and started slamming my head on the wheel as one thought occupied my mind. What happened to us? 

Frantically, I opened the glove compartment, throwing my CDs across my car to reveal a beaten-up, battered copy of The Perks of Being A Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. Rose’s copy, the one she gave me on the last day of her first and last semester in college. That Christmas break, I read the whole thing in two days. I don’t know what made me sob more - the storyline or her notes in the margins. She gave me these pieces of her in the pages of that book. 

“Dear Mark, Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” Rose began her writings on the first blank page, “You have so much potential & I know you’ll live up to it. You’re a good guy, Mark, stay safe out there. Good luck, you’ve got this, and you know where to find me. Love, Rose.” 

I read these words whenever I wanted to feel like someone in this fucked-up world is on my side, but now I just have questions. Did I live up to my potential, Rose? I did what I always said I’d do, but isn’t there more to life than that? What about love? You signed your note “Love, Rose” after all. But you left me behind. Or did I leave you behind? Or did life just split us apart? 

Derek said I never knew anything about love, and as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. Because maybe she loved me. And maybe she didn’t. And maybe she was just saying goodbye. But maybe- no, I’m tired of maybe. I’m tired of second guessing myself. I’m tired of questions. I need answers.  

I slammed my car door, walked back inside and made my way to the dining room, hearing the shouts of my peers echo around the walls.

“I wanna go after her.” Derek said, referring (at least I assumed) to Beth.

“Derek, stop-” Benjamin sighed and put his hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Beth?”

“No. Sofia.” Derek corrected. 

Meanwhile, Ali and Finn were fighting. 

“The only difference between you and me is that you had a rich grandma as a safety net!” Ali shouted, but instead of getting mad, they both started crying about their circumstances. 

Marie came and stood next to me, watching the scene erupt. “I used to say it would be okay when we got older. That it would all be worth it one day.” 

“But we’re older now, aren’t we?” I sighed. “We were supposed to be better. We were supposed to make our dreams come true.” 

But it’s too late, I thought to myself, looking at the miserable people around me. Derek isn’t an actor and Finn’s an accountant and Ali works at a Chinese place. Rose is getting married to an asshole who cheated on her. It was at that moment, looking at the world’s losses, that I fought my own rhetoric.

“No, it’s not too late!” I sometimes do this thing where I think I’m saying something in my head and then happen to say it out loud. 

“Too late for what?” Finn asked. 

The fighting had ceased. The bottles were momentarily untouched. All eyes were on me as I repeated myself. “It’s not too late. We’re in our 30s, not on our deathbeds.” At that moment, I remembered the quote I had written above the door in my freshman year dorm. 

Living is not simply the absence of dying.

I was frantic when I began to speak again. “We all had dreams, didn’t we?” They nodded, unsure where I was going next. “Go after them. It’s not too late. Go. Live.” 

“And what about you?” Of all people, Derek is the one asking. Another question. 

“I don’t know.” I said simply, finally looking him in the eyes. “But I’m going to find out.”

William Flejter (2006) is an author, musician, and UMass Boston student. He wrote his first book at twelve, Taduszek: The Origin Story, and published it in November 2024. These days, he’s working on capturing the days in poetry and prose, seeing the world as it is, and how we can be better.