Chapter 4 (continued)

Outside the sky was a pale blue and the leaves were flame. Sedgewick could have soared across the sky. But no matter what, he couldn't sit there and read about expressionism. This was so beyond the history of art in digestible university format.

He packed his notes and pen and left the cafeteria, not really sure where he was going. Outside would be a good start. He pushed open a door and felt the crisp autumn air. He didn't realize he'd been sweating. His mind moved faster than his legs could carry him, and he quickly dropped on to a bench. His mind kept reeling and tried to understand what just happened.

Students were heading in every direction, swarming the campus on their way to class and work and home.

Allison. Her name was Allison.

He still didn't know anything about her, except she appeared to go running in the morning, and it bothered him that he was so fascinated. Charles seemed to think that was perfectly normal. But what's normal about it?

Sedgewick watched the churning sea of students, noticing plenty of college girls, and noticing a few who walked arm in arm with a college boy. He wondered if that's what was in store for him. That was the last thing he had on his mind, that wasn't exactly what he pictured when he thought about girls. But what did he picture? He didn't know. There would be a few imaginative scenes in his mind, mostly introductions, though they were nothing like the real thing where he barely managed to say five words. Less if you don’t count his own name. And those suave introductions in his mind never went farther than that. It seemed ludicrous enough that he was even having the conversation, it was too much of a push for his mind to go farther.

Allison believed. It was what made her cross a crowded cafeteria and say something to a stock boy she'd only seen once. It made her do something she wouldn't normally do, at least that's what she claimed. But what did that really mean? Wrinkles formed on Sedgewick's brow and he bit his lip.

Love at first sight? True love? Sedgewick suddenly felt like he was in the midst of some romantic drama, probably a teen flick, one of those dramedies that intersperse their touching scenes with witty dialogue to keep the teens laughing and enjoying themselves and buying more movie tickets the next week. No one is that witty in real life.

Does anything like that even happen in real life? It seemed to be happening to Sedgewick, but he couldn't believe that's what it really was. He still didn't know what was behind those deep green eyes. What's the point of all these mushy feelings if it's all for naught? But Sedgewick wondered if there was any way to win this game without going through the ups and downs. The only way to find out what was behind those green eyes, it seemed to Sedgewick, was to dive right in. And hope he was right.

He stood up from the bench and headed to class, hoping against hope that he'd be able to manage something productive that day.

She must have been looking for me, Sedgewick thought. He started to realize all kinds of meanings in the few words she said, though they were more than he said. She must have been thinking of going back to the grocery store as the only way she could find Sedgewick again. She must have had the same blur of a weekend, thinking about someone in that new, strange, floating on air kind of way. That someone was Sedgewick.

He also realized, with a touch of panic, that he had given her so little to go on. He had managed to squeak out five words. Hardly a complete sentence among them. He had been aloof, stammering, fidgeting, unsure of what to do or say. Not that he was ever completely on top of his game.

The thoughts swirled and swirled and practically drowned Sedgewick. Class finally ended it and he took off. Trying to continue like this was crazy. He walked across the campus, usually against the flow of hurried students late for class. He adjusted the messenger bag across his shoulder, resting one hand on the strap and sticking his left hand in his pocket. He walked slowly, enough to be the slightest nuisance to the people behind him, but Sedgewick didn't care. His mind kept moving so quickly that he couldn't let the rest of him go very fast or he'd slip off the ground and lose touch with this reality.

He watched a bus lumber through the intersection and crossed the street, heading right for a block and then ducking down a side street. The sun was higher now, giving warmth through the bitter air. It was still October though, and that bitter air made Sedgewick's nose cold.

A mother and child walked in front of him, about the same slow pace he managed. The mother looked worn down, practically dragging the child along, who didn't seem to notice. The kid kept stumbling along, bright eyes darting to the left and the right, taking in the strange new world of a college campus.

Sedgewick remembered that feeling. His first days on this campus were crushingly overwhelming. So many students. So many buildings. So much sidewalk going in every direction at once. It took a few weeks to adjust, days of getting his bearings and realizing that it wasn't as immense as it first seemed. He smiled, realizing the child wasn't overwhelmed with classes and schedules and confusing maps. The child probably wanted to run in the green grass, watch the city buses come and go, and toss the Frisbee around with the older boys who never seemed to actually go to class.

Sedgewick crossed another street, leaving the mother and child, and took a flight of stairs down the embankment to the river. The University of Minnesota campus straddled the Mississippi River, which wound it's way through the Twin Cities, through the fields and bluffs of Minnesota, through the heart of the Midwest and on south before finally emptying into the Gulf of Mexico. To be so connected to such a major artery made the world seem a little smaller, a little more manageable.

Most people in the Twin Cities took the great river for granted. They forgot it was their source of drinking water, forgot that it wound through the cities, only remembered when one of the many bridges was scheduled for reconstruction and their daily lives were interrupted.

Sedgewick stepped off the last stair and crossed the green strip of grass. At the bottom of the bluffs here was a flat stretch of land that slowly and gradually sloped towards the river. In flood stage this little park would be the first to succumb to the rising water.

Sedgewick had seen those rising flood waters before, years and years ago when his grandfather took him to a secluded little park in St. Paul. Everything was under water then. The street signs and parking signs stuck out of the water like buoys. You couldn't tell where the parking lot ended and the grass began, where the picnic tables were or where the beach started. The water looked calm and eerie, like it was slowly taking back the world, rising and rising until every last mountain peak gave in.

A few days later the water crested and finally began to recede. Sedgewick remembered coming back to the river again with his grandfather weeks later, seeing the sand and dirt and rocks and junk the water had left in its wake.

But that was years ago. While the river rose every spring, fueled by melting snow and April showers, it hadn't risen nearly so high since. Just before the water's edge the manicured lawn ended and wild vegetation, shrubs and twisted trees took over the final eight or ten foot drop to the river's sandy edge. The higher bluff Sedgewick had just come down blocked out much of the city's noise. In this part of the city the river ran at the bottom of a gorge, essentially dropping out of sight and going unnoticed by most people. It made for a quiet retreat, only interrupted by the knowing nods of fellow wonderers.

Sedgewick stopped at the last drop, looking down the steep, eroded slope. There were huge rocks and fallen trees, pulled down by the strong, continual sweep of the river. Someone sat on one of those rocks, perched on top with their knees pulled up to their chin, arms wrapped around their legs, not unlike Connor had been when Sedgewick found him alone in the cereal aisle.

It was a girl in a black shirt and green shorts. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but the wind kept pulling loose strands away. Sedgewick stood there on the bank, looking down on her, wondering.

He turned back to the manicured lawn, looked to the picnic tables and swings to the right and the parking lot to the left. There. At the edge of the parking lot. Sedgewick crossed the lawn, and stuck a hand in to his pocket, digging around for loose change.

The pay phone was half graffiti covered, designs and words that were meaningless to Sedgewick. In one movement he picked up the receiver and plunked his change in the slot. He breathed. He looked at his hand and dialed the seven slightly smeared digits. There was a pause, silence, then the phone began to ring.

Faintly, ever so faintly, he could hear the a noise like tinkling chimes, but the wind kept carrying it farther and fainter. It rang a second and third time in his ear, and with his other ear he strained to hear that faint tinkle. When it rang a fifth time he was about to hang up when he heard a click. There was another moment of silence and then what sounded like muffled wind.

"He—hello?" the voice cracked and broke, fragile when it did finally squeak out.