This is Love

Battered and Bruised, Chapters 8-13

Chapter 8

The start of my college career started off with me making a no-win decision. My parents chose to drive separately from each other and I had to choose whose car I rode in up to college. They both stood there in the driveway looking at me eagerly. I knew whomever I would choose would crush the other one. I chose my mom citing that I had spent the evening before with my dad.

On the drive up, we passed a road sign advertising that Altoona was several miles away. My mother hummed along to her Celine Dion music. My palms began to sweat as I thought about the proximity I would be to my actual birth mother. I thought about the letter that I tucked away in one of my bags. I didn't want Riley to snoop around my room and find it, plus I liked being able to flirt with the option of contacting my biological mother since I would be on my own.

"Mom," I said nervously as Celine belted out the Power of Love chorus.

"Hmm," my mother questioned.

"Does my biological mother still live in Altoona," I asked testing the waters.

Her whole demeanor shifted from being relaxed and care-free to highly cautious. She sat up straighter in the seat and adjusted the rear-view mirror. It appeared that she glanced in the mirror hoping my dad in the car behind us could assist her with her answer. She replied starting out slowly as if she was still crafting her answer. "I'm not sure, but I can look into it if you want." There was an edge to her voice and I knew she wasn't sure how she felt on the subject.

"No, that won't be necessary. I was just curious, I guess," I replied.

"I think that's only natural," my mother said more convincingly than her prior answer. I let the conversation drop. I was still undecided as to whether I wanted to meet my mom. However, the idea of her being closer and me meeting her without my parents knowledge if I desired appealed to me.

Later that afternoon, my parents worked together well to help move me into the dorm room. My roommate, Jodi, had already moved in and was roaming about campus with her parents according to a cute welcome note she left me on my desk. I had spoken to her via phone a few times and we seemed to get along well.

By the end of my second week at Penn State, I had found an okay groove. I got along with my roommate, Jodi, but hung out with a couple of girls down the hall: Amy and Brooke. We went to a frat party together with a few other girls from the floor and studied together as we were in the same courses for now; Amy was a Healthcare Administration major like me, but Brooke was there for Chemistry. I had lunch with Justin once during the first week of school. He chose all afternoon and evening classes so he could sleep in. He didn't have a job even though his parents insisted he find a work-study job. He didn't seem all that interested at the moment. I was enjoying my classes, feeling high on life, and then time stopped.

Before my 9 am class on September 11, I walked into a cafeteria in an upperclassmen dorms for the warm cookies and to fill up my water bottle when everyone stood standing still staring at the televisions anchored to the walls around the room. I went over and saw black smoke pouring out of the World Trade Center building. Between the news and the people who saw the special news bulletin break in, I ascertained a plane flew into the building. Several of us stood in awe of this horrible sight when from nowhere a second plane came into the frame and crashed into the second tower.

Fear blanketed the room as most of gasped in disbelief. Some started crying, a handful became angry. I couldn't tag an emotion with this other than fear and confusion as to what was going on. Then, a man in his early forties, a professor I presumed, said the words: terrorist attack. I remember feeling dumbfounded; terrorist attacks happen in the Middle East not a few hours away in New York City. I felt small and scared.