Waiting for My Real Life to Begin

Home : Stories by Zippit : Memory & Dream : Waiting for My Real Life to Begin

Summary: A new life begins.

AUTHOR: Zippit
EMAIL: zippit@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG
SERIES/SETTING: Memory & Dream
CHARACTERS: Dale Earnhardt Jr, Kevin Harvick, Dale Jr POV
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #75 - Hush (7.20)
COMPLETED: January 6, 2008
WORDS: 1,611
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: It’s about time we got back to these sweet boys. Hopefully, updates will be more frequent from now on.
AUTHOR’S NOTE2: Thanks to Catw00man for the beta.
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San Francisco University: September 2nd, 1997

I stop by a café that catches my eye to grab a cup of Chai. Eventually I might have to get into the coffee thing if I can’t find a good substitute for Sundrop. Gotta scour this place for Sundrop soon. Maybe waiting to get here on the day before classes start might not have been a good thing.

Wrap my hands ‘round the mug and gaze out at the raucous bustle of the streets. It’s hard to find quiet and even the forced hush falling inside the café is different than in Mooresville. A good different? Ain’t sure yet. Could end up lessening the heartache for home.

I’m no fool. I’m a homebody and I know one day soon after the flurry of getting settled, getting into the life of college, it’ll hit hard, right in the gut. Leave me questioning everything ‘bout this decision to come out here and be a nobody struggling with the rest of the nobodies in their twenties cause I should be all done with it already.

Glance down at the closed sketchpad tossed idly on the tabletop. Well, not that alone. Always got my drawings with me and nothing else, I can draw the expanse of the North Carolina skies. Lose myself in the memories until it’s time to come back to the rolling seaside of San Francisco.

Studied the map of the college campus on the plane ride over and there’s supposed to be some decent, massive park nearby, within walking distance of the campus anyway. I’m sure I can find some hidey holes among the trees and just kick back and draw with nothing and no one being able to find me.

Sip at the white foam clinging to the top of the Chai, tasting hints of the cinnamon added to the sweet tea. I know I’m hedging on going back to the dorms. I don’t wanna have it be real yet. I can sit here and pretend I’m still back home, scooping out some nondescript café far away from the prying eyes of the NASCAR world. Another retreat to add to my list of many.

But I’m not home. The lack of accents makes that quite clear. Don’t think I’ve heard anything but the flat, almost rounded-sharp syllables falling off people’s tongues since I got here. Sound of my own accent makes people stare. I ain’t like it. Ain’t like the scrutiny I thought I escaped. Ain’t like it at all.

Josh thought I was insane for leaving. Was just a nobody, but the damn last name hangs over me like a shadow. So I worked it out with the school. Nobody’ll know ‘cept for the front office. Shift in the lazy red booth I commandeered after I got my Chai and a hard corner juts into my hip. Drag out the offending piece of plastic from my pocket and stare at the picture keychain Kelley got me before I left.

I’d clipped the room key to it then forgot I even had it. Trace over the 329 etched into the key’s surface and give a wry smile. Can’t ever get away from that damn 3. Could be this “third time’s a charm” like everyone’s always saying. Polish off the last remains of the Chai and leave a tip. Be coming back here, the tea’s delicious and I’ll need to try out the rest of the menu.

Key back in my pocket and I’m tempted to stay and watch the sun set to see the sky painted with reds and hues I can never capture just right. But it’s late enough, whiled away most of the afternoon, it’s time to make nice and see who I got stuck with.

It’s only a few minutes walk to the dorm and if I plan it right I can make it my first stop in the mornings. Yup, new leaf. The lazy ass that never wanted out of bed before noon has got himself early morning classes. That should be an experience.

Stop outside and gaze at the squat multistoried building. Uniform grey mixed with blues and greens ‘round the windows, towering trees giving shelter over the sidewalks while bushes hug close to the walls, it’s greener than I thought it would be.

Slip inside with a quick slide of my ID card. Better keep a tight hold of this thing, I could wind up locked out otherwise. Smile hello at the faces I pass in the hallway and pause when I get to the elevator. It’s only three floors….

Shove through the door to the stairs and trudge up three flights. Think I’ll add that to the morning route, good to have something else to wake me up before the Chai hits my system. Walk past a few others coming and going, before I’m at the door to my new life.

329. No clue if I’ll end up hating that number. Slide the key, twist the knob, and walk in to see my new roommate sprawled out on the top bunk, reading something before he shoves it under his pillow. Don’t let him be one of those sex crazed guys.  Please.

Meet green eyes framed by dark glasses before they’re hastily snatched off as I push the door closed and say, “Dale Jackson. Guess we’re roomies.” All that practice on the plane seems to have paid off. I didn’t even hesitate over my “new” last name.

He drops to the floor without using the ladder and holds out his hand. “Kevin Harvick. Good to see they don’t lie. They promised me a roommate closer to my age.”

His grip’s solid as we shake and I chuckle at his words. “Horror stories were going through my mind too.” Drop the sketchpad onto the pillow on the lower bunk before really looking around the room and wince. It’s damn small in here. Bunks are on the right when you step inside, dresser right across from them with closets on either end, then the desks against the windows side by side. Sink in the corner behind the beds, near the door, and glad to see my mini fridge’s found a home next to it. We’ll be lucky if we don’t trip over each other within minutes. “Which side of the room you want?”

“Left. Light comes in better that way.” He walks over to the bag I didn’t notice laid on top of the desk and tugs out the materials he brought, laying claim to his workspace.

I duck under the bunk and unzip my own bag to drag out my materials. “Artist or architect?” I ask as I gather my colors and arrange them in the top drawer of the desk. Colors are secondary to just getting it down and I have a quick kit tucked into my backpack for when I do want to add color to sketches when I’m away from my desk.

Tuck sketchpads into the middle drawer of the desk then move over to the left side of the dresser to empty the bag of clothes. I’m tempted to leave everything in there until I need it, but Kelley and Momma’s voices remind me to not leave things wrinkled. Probably too late for some of that.

“Architect. You?” I hear the metallic wood roll of drawers being pulled as he finds spaces to store his things. I pull open the closet door closest to me and dump the bag inside. Figure he’ll want the closet next to his set of drawers. Makes the most sense.

“Artist. Ain’t disciplined enough for all those straight lines and rules you got.” Hang up the clothes that need hanging, stacking jeans in a drawer then sort the rest haphazardly into another. Then haul out the computer equipment I tucked into the same closet earlier and crawl under the desk to hook it all up. Gotta talk to the RA ‘bout what they got in regards to internet access. Hope they at least got Ethernet. Never know, this place could be ahead of the times.

Once it’s all set up, toss my backpack on the end of my bed and turn back to him. He really has got a lot of shit. He’s still tucking it away into the drawers that don’t seem like they’ll be enough for him. I know I got a lot of my own shit rolling around in my backpack, but it’s so much less compared to his.

“We all need rules in our lives and that southern charm of yours isn’t gonna get you out of it either.”  I’m surprised as I meet his eyes again, teasing glint in them. He’s the first that’s actually taken my “southern otherness” in stride and not wanted the full life story.

“Ain’t that why we’re here? Learn those fancy rules and then break ‘em when we make something of ourselves?” Flash him a grin at his chuckle before sliding onto the lower bunk bed, accompanied by the sounds of him still unpacking as I try and tease the details of a Carolina night sky out onto the page.

Another silence falls when he’s all settled in and I glance up to find him working on something at the desk. It’s a different feeling, here in this room, than I felt blanketing the café. It’s almost…comfortable. Or maybe it’s just the drawing I’m working on that brings this sense of peace.

It ain’t as bad as I thought it’d end up. Kevin seems decent enough and he’s not one of the hormone crazed idiots I heard screaming down the halls earlier. First day of a new life. Maybe that three’ll turn out lucky after all.

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Zippit - zippit@cryptoffic.com