Noology (18 page)

“Are you going to be okay now?” Tate
inquires. I glance around in momentary confusion until I recognize the contents
of my simple and dilapidated bedroom.

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Thanks for
everything.”

With that, he shuts the decaying oak door
behind him and I nestle into the corner of my dreary bed. Pulling my knees to
my chest, I drape my arms delicately around them and trace the course of my thoughts
as they swirl in a vicious tempest of insecurity.

What will this mean for me, I selfishly ponder.
Rian’s influence and stature within the tier one community would have proven a
bulwark to support me in my pursuit of a sturdy career with a noble title and
rank. Now I must instead overcome the stigma of his poor judgment.

What will Cerebrus think? Oh God, I
forgot about him! Rian was our common friend: the link that connected us to one
another. Without that vital hinge upon which we depend, will he still be interested
in a lowly tier two prospect like myself? The only reason Cerebrus wanted to
date me was to solidify his fraternity with Rian, and now that alliance would
prove useless seeing as my brother is a disgraced food producer. We have some
chemistry and our time spent together has been pleasant. I don’t know if it is
enough to sustain this potential union of minds and lives. At this point, I am
quite convinced that we are destined to separate, severing the brief
relationship we were beginning to cultivate – like Amy and Rian.
Fortunately, Cerebrus and I are merely attached by a thin thread of common
respect and mutual appreciation for quick wit. The passionate bloom of love is
still immature, a long way from stirring feelings of desperate yearning.
 

What if, by some miracle or stroke of
dumb luck on my part, Cerebrus wanted to continue our relationship? A niggling
voice in the back of my head screams that he could be my family’s ticket to
redemption. Rian’s actions have cursed us all to live a life of shame, my
parents included. Having ascended, he could have brought untold prestige to our
family name but now that possibility has been permanently destroyed. Instead of
pride, humiliation graces the expressions of my parents as they must face the
derision of society.

If I married Cerebrus, however, it would
be almost as beneficial as ascending. I would take a tier one name, raise
children in a tier one household, enjoy the luxuries of a political lifestyle.
The Pearce family would no longer be shackled by Rian’s mistakes, but rather
uplifted by my wedding a decorated and honorable doctor. The pressure of
expectation begins to build in my mind to a booming crescendo, until I can no
longer bear the oppressive roar.

These thoughts must be laid to rest
– for now. Nothing can be done tonight, and I am better off resting up
for the trials that await me in the morning.

I strip down and throw on my pair of
moth-eaten pajamas before curling up under the frayed bedding tainted by the
faint aroma of mildew. As I drift off, visions of elaborate tier one
furnishings and creamy silks lull me to sleep with barely audible whispers of
temptation. I could have that dream (if I play my cards right). First, Cerebrus
must forgive me for the sins of my brother – a reaction I think highly
unlikely. Yet, what is life without irrational optimism?

Everything is back to normal. Nothing is
the same, nor will it ever be.

Rian left the university a few days ago
with my parents and is due to start farming with Benny at the end of the week.
No matter how hard I try, I cannot bring myself to accept that he will no
longer grace these hallowed halls with his easygoing energy and effervescence.

I slip through the obscured door at the
rear of the classroom, ignoring the obtrusive warnings that the exit is for
emergencies only. Without power, there is no purpose to heeding this posting
and I have been avoiding my peers at all costs. I haven’t spoken to Nirvana
about the situation, and I don’t intend to. Rather than diverting her away from
the subject, I have chosen to do everything in my power to avoid bumping into
my friend.

Scurrying down the unmarked corridor as
it opens to reveal the gloomy sky beyond, tumultuous thoughts swirl through my
head and I am ensnared in a hypnotic web of doubt. This murky daze captures me,
and as a result I momentarily lose track of my surroundings. Suddenly, I crash
into a solid wall of muscle and flesh.

Glancing up, confusion leaking from every
pore, I meet Cerebrus’ golden eyes and am astounded to see him. I haven’t
encountered Cerebrus since Rian’s accident, and I am unsure how to proceed:
what impact will that event have on our situation?

“What are you…” I stutter.

“Avelyn, I have been looking everywhere
for you. In the end, I had no choice but to follow you to class and intercept
you before you had a chance to go home. We need to talk about what happened.”

I squirm, desperately trying to avoid the
criticism that has remained sulking in the shadows on the periphery of my daily
life.

“What do you want to talk about?” I reply
with a glimmer of hostility lining my voice.

“Well, are you okay? That is quite a
traumatic experience to endure.”

“I’m fine,” I insincerely rebut with
terse finality.

“I don’t believe you, but that’s beside
the point,” Cerebrus continues. “I wish you would let me help you through this,
but I can respect your decision. Can I help you with studying or anything?”

“No. I can handle it.”

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to
do it alone,” he persists. After releasing an explosive sigh, he runs his palm
over his prickly hair and down across his firmly sealed eyes. “Can we talk
about us?”

I knew this question was coming; yet it
still strikes me with a tangible force. Cerebrus could be my ticket out of this
distressing situation and building a relationship with him would secure a
stable and prosperous future for myself and my family. Of course, this scheme
is contingent upon him actually longing to continue to see me. Bracing myself
for the bitter blow of the impending breakup, I nod briskly without uttering a
word.

“So, when are you going to feel up to
going out again? I have some plans in the works, but if you don’t feel ready I
can put them on hold.”

It takes me a moment to shut my gaping
jaw as it hangs ajar. He still wants to see me. Why? I no longer have any ties
to a tier one doctor or prospective and am destined to become a tier two
myself.

“Are you serious?” I whisper. “How can
you still want to spend time with me after Rian’s incident? I have no status
anymore – I am just a lowly tier two prospect with no hope for
ascension.”

“Avelyn, I don’t care about that. Sure
Rian was the reason we met in the first place, but I like
you
and I want to get to know
you.
People are more than just a statistical number or evaluation, and it is the
wonderful being that resides within your brain that I long to spend time with.
I want to unlock the secret part of you that is hidden from public view, and I
hope that with time you will trust me enough to let me in.”

“Sure,” I blurt. “I mean, I have had a
great time with you. I would love to spend more time with you, as soon as you
want to. I don’t need time to recuperate – I’m fine. Not perfect, but the
way to get back to my self is by behaving in a manner consistent with this
normalcy.”

“Okay,” he enthusiastically responds.
“Well, in that case I have a question to ask you. My parents are throwing a bit
of a party – a gala if you will – at our home next week. I would
love to introduce you to them and give you a window into my world.”

“Cerebrus, how can I fit in at a tier one
gala? All of my clothes are scraps and I don’t even know how to behave in high
society.”

Taking my hands firmly within his own, he
levels his steady gaze upon my eyes.

“Avelyn, you are amazing, you just have
been socialized not to see it. I like you, and that will be enough for my
parents. Just don’t take it too seriously, and you are bound to impress. So,
will you be my date?”

“Yes, I would be delighted to accompany
you,” I reply.

“Fantastic!” he grins, twirling me around
him as I giggle with joy.

We traverse the crumbling ruins of the
campus before finally reaching my humble abode. Cerebrus leaves me at my door
with a soft goodbye and a gentle kiss, and I slink up to the splintered
baseboard of my limp bed.

I fight to repress the flowering vines of
bliss protruding from my heart, turning to the pile of archaic and musty texts
stacked against the wall. Shattering my euphoria, I return to my revision and
focus solely on the impending examinations I must face in the coming
months.
 

Days fly by in a flurry of motion as I
divide my time between attending brutally dull classes, cramming shards of
information into my bulging skull to construct a picture of understanding, and
revisiting previous examinations that may shed light on the future ordeals I
must face. There is no escaping the tragic monotony and by the end of the week
I am exhausted both mentally and physically.

Before I know it, I am engrossed in
frantic preparations for my elegant evening with Cerebrus at his parent’s gala.
Since he lives on the outer edge of the city, we must depart in the morning to
ensure that we arrive promptly at the mansion.

I shrug on a cropped cream sweater and
drape my hunting jacket over my shoulders to shield myself against the fierce
winds howling outside my grease-streaked window. Hastily stuffing my lacey pink
cocktail dress into my faded green rucksack patched haphazardly with denim and
bright yellow cotton, I cinch the drawstring firmly closed and deposit the
lumpy bag on my thin slip of a mattress. My nighttime necessities are carefully
arranged within the depths of the sack since I must spend the night with my
gracious hosts before returning to campus.

Just as I finish piling the remaining
articles into the frumpy pack, a firm rapping cuts through the silence and I
pivot to open the door, receiving my visitor.

“Ready?” Cerebrus questions, leaning
casually against the crackling paint gracing the door jam.

“Yeah,” I exhale. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t sound too enthusiastic,” he
smirks.

I stick out my tongue in mute
retaliation. We amble down the stale hallway and past the familiar kitchen, and
I catch the faint drawl of Tate’s voice wafting out of the room as we march
through the broad double doors and into the humid winter air.

Shivering convulsively as my body adjusts
to the sharp bite of the damp gusts whirling about, I hike up my collar and
grit my teeth for the journey ahead.

“Are you going to be okay in this wind?”
Cerebrus inquires, concern reflected in his chiseled features.

I nod my assurance and focus intently on
sparking up conversation rather than dwelling on the rough weather conditions.

“How was your week?” I attempt to kindle
an exchange of small talk.

“Fine. Had a few exams, but nothing too
strenuous. You?”

“Still working on my SMART’s. I’m almost
at the point where I just want them to be over with regardless of the outcome.
I’m fighting the apathy that keeps trying to surface.”

“I was the same way. It will be over
soon, and then you can focus on something more interesting and important.”

“Thankfully,” I enthuse. “It’s all I can
do to endure the constant questioning and fulfill the expectations of my
parents.”

“Well, I promise you will only have to
answer questions about it a hundred times this weekend.”

I chuckle. “Oh good. I was afraid I
wouldn’t get a chance to talk about it,” I reply facetiously.

Anxiety trickles through my system, and I
begin wriggling as I walk. Thinking about the uncomfortable weekend ahead, I
grow weak and scared. I will be on display for complete strangers to critique
and judge, forming superficial impressions that will shape the rest of our
interactions for the foreseeable future.

“You are over thinking this,” Cerebrus
blurts and shatters my self-deprecating reverie.

“How do you know what I am thinking
about?”

“It’s written all over your pretty little
face. Here,” he touches my rigid cheekbone. “And here,” he prods my crumpled
eyebrow. “And here,” he traces my chapped lips with a tender fluidity. A chill
flows up my spine, raising my fine hairs on end.

“I guess that rules out a career in
espionage. Darn,” I feign disappointment by slapping my leg in dramatic
fashion.

“You are going to have to settle for
being a trophy wife,” Cerebrus jokes. I laugh, but this comment resonates with
me. If I continue down this path, will I become no more than an accessory to
his success? Arm candy for a prestigious cabinet member? Unproven and destined
to live a life of domestic employment? After all, why else would he be
interested in a mere tier two prospect? I may be no more than a charming
companion capable of providing comedic relief with my caustic sarcasm.

“You’re thinking again,” he whispers.