Regeneration X (19 page)

As for other aspects of real life, there have been some more challenges. I guess with all the hubbub, it wasn’t something I put much store in; namely, the social aspects of being the new me. For shame, I found it difficult to relate to my fellow classmates. In-class interactions are easy since instructors provide the lead and direction, but socially, I’m rather awkward at starting a conversation or introducing myself into discussions amongst classmates.

I come with stipulations. First, I have to define my new persona without 35 years of life experience, including being married, having a house and mortgage, supporting myself, earning a living and having a career; and last but not least, already having been to college. Not to seem demeaning to the younger generation, I also have to limit my input of topics, which are beyond the maturity level of most of my new peers, such as healthcare practices, personal lifestyle choices, politics, world affairs and the economy—these are areas I’m more knowledgeable in than the average layperson, anyway. The next two years could become one big, disastrous, all-for-nothing experience if I either resolve myself to seclusion or rely completely on Inez and Becks for company. Patience must be a virtue I practice here, again.

Fortunately, soon enough, I gained several more opportunities to interact with my classmates. Aspects of youth and memories I’d forgotten emerged to help me build relationships and, hopefully, friendships. But it continues to get stranger by the day. Just when I think my form of transport, back in time has sufficient loft and I am slowly rising further above the challenges, someone grazes me closely, clipping a wing, and suddenly I am off balance again.

You know how it is when a person doesn’t expressly tell you, you just know, they are interested in you? Well, I’d been getting an impression of this lately, too. On one hand, at least, I wasn’t too strange to be attractive to someone. Still, I was unyielding, none of that was going to happen right now. So I just ignored the vibes and hoped I wasn’t doing anything in particular to invite attention of this kind.

January 29, 2026

Let’s take this back to the day I read the literature and the few months which followed. What had I been thinking? For better understanding, in case I read this again later, this is not a sentence implying regret. This is a real question.

It’s only been a few weeks, but since my plan took nearly a year to commence, I’m trying to remember now to see if I’m on track. I should have laid it out in a flowchart or something a bit more organized, but this would probably diminish the joy in the adventure I feel.

I thought it was going to be easy—well easier than this anyway. I thought that after a quick stint as a human pincushion, I was going to emerge all fresh and new. Like a babe, I would create my world, set new rules, and live happily ever after. There it is in poetry.

Now in realistic bullet points:

- Apply to schools and programs—done and accepted. Yippee!

- Quit my job—done. Hurray! Speaking of, I received an email from Levy asking me if I’d be willing to fill in until he found a suitable candidate to fill my position. The fact that he calls it ‘my position’ is just like him. ‘Give an inch take a mile,’ is kind of a character trait of his. Nothing against Levy, but I had to refuse. I’d probably end up working for him and POV for another 13 years until he retires and then he would probably try to sell the magazine to me.

- Come to an arrangement with Michael—umm—temporarily done. Nowhere near feeling resolved. So, yeah, it’s been a month and, I sadly cannot admit to feeling anything but fondness and partnership for my husband of 16 years. Unless something miraculous occurs in the next 2 months, we are in big trouble.

- Enroll in school—done. Registered and two weeks toward thespian-hood.

- Move to London—done. Booyah! I’m super psyched I chose to come here instead of California. Now I think anything else would have been half-ass.

- Get the right training for my vocation—on my way. So far, it’s been a lot of fun, definitely a challenge. If it was easy, I think I’d have given it up by now.

- Gain some experience—again on my way. School counts since the program is all about application.

- Live adventurously? This last one is the one that gets me. I had not accounted for all the in-between actual day-to-day living stuff. Apparently, I don’t need to be an actress for the adventure. But the craziness won’t last forever. I have to remind myself to enjoy these experiences while I can.

・ ・ ・

Roughly a quarter of the way through the first term, a group of us—Melissa, Parker, Robert, Annabelle, Sima, Alex and myself—went to a nearby Elizabethan-styled pub—appropriately called the Swan of Avon—a hat-tip, or should I say, a toast to the Bard half a millennium later.

The conversation flowed easily and I didn’t have to try too hard to hold back. Already, with the vocal, as opposed to academic, path of study I’d chosen, I became accustomed to the lovely British accent I admired so much. Sadly, I could no longer hear it. Instead, when speaking lines, or in a conversation, my own voice sounded out of place, as if accented amidst a native crowd. It was rather like watching one or two BBC movies in a row. First you circumvent the waves of speech by glossing over comprehension. After a while, the language flows through your ears as easily as ripples flow through clear water. I am a stick floating nearby.

On this occasion, once banter about our classes was done, my classmates began to talk about families and their lives. Annabelle told us a story about her older brother being protective and chaperoning her first date. It was so typically traditional—it was surprising for all our modern ways. Sima then relayed a funny story about being mistaken for a Chili and Chutney owner’s daughter.

I listened, but was selfishly half distracted during my companions’ stories. This was the first real social occasion I’d been invited to, and I was preoccupied with trying to find something ambiguous from my youth so I could contribute to the conversation. Let me just say, it is difficult to recall anything in the spur of the moment. When Annabelle asked me if I had any brothers and sisters, I was thankful for the prompt. Suddenly, images came to mind I hadn’t thought of in a long time. I was then easily able to recall memories of growing up with my siblings.

It was rather disconcerting to supposedly be too mature for cliques, but still feel the need to be accepted into one. Luckily, my position in the club was granted via a good laugh from my account of one early childhood experiences.

 
“My older sisters had a bike. Each of them took turns driving while the other rode on the back of the banana seat. Because they shared it, I rarely had a chance to ride on it myself. You see, I’m kind of embarrassed to admit it, but I didn’t know how to ride a bike at the time. Instead, I had a big wheel and a well-used, wonky skateboard.

One day, my mom saw me outside on the skateboard—not getting very far or fast—trying to follow my sisters down the street. I kept crashing and scraping the curb, and I wasn’t even trying to do one of those railslide thingies. She yelled, ‘Charley, what are you doing? What’s wrong with your big wheel?’

“Since I wasn’t going anywhere, I went back and showed her the big wheel in the garage. It was in bad shape. There was one large flat area on each of the wheels, mainly the back ones from slamming on the brakes and skidding. One of the plastic foot pedals was missing; all that remained was a thin metal rod, and the seat pegs were broken off. Pedaling and picking up speed was nearly impossible to do; I could get no leverage on the pedals sitting upright on squared-off wheels.

“I don’t remember how long it was after this (it seemed soon), but I was surprised when my mom told me we were going to Toys “R” Us—that’s the big toy store in the US—to pick out my new mode of transportation. I hoped it wouldn’t be a bike because I’d have to share it with my brother. Maybe this is why I didn’t try too hard to learn.

“Anyway, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. A new big wheel, but bigger? Or a new skateboard, but more stable? When we got to the store, my mom asked the sales person where the roller skates were. ‘Awesome!’ I thought. But, I would have to get skates two sizes bigger because that’s how we did things and I was the youngest and growing fast, so the skates would have to last a year or more.

“I picked a pair of silver skates that had a red strip down each side. I tried the left skate on and rolled up and down the aisles in bliss, like on a skateboard using my foot for push-offs. Stoked, I carried the box to the register and took my treasure home.

“As soon as we were home, I took the skates down to the basement and quickly put them on. I skated around and around, bumping into walls and furniture. I was having a hard time balancing and steering, but I figured it was me, and I had to get used to them—especially with the extra room at the toes. I decide to stuff a rolled up sock into the toe. When I went to tighten the laces again, I realized I had two left foot skates. I hadn’t noticed in my initial excitement.

“The big baby that I was, I think I cried. I didn’t want to tell my mom—what if I had to return the skates? There was the possibility a trip back to the toy store could mean a trip home afterward with no replacement. So, I got back up and practiced with new vigor, compensating
a lot
on the right side for the two left skates steering me wayward. Eventually, I became a two left-feet skating
fiend
!

“The skates did last, and at some point my sisters got skates, too—the exact same ones ‘cause this is also how we did things. My special talent didn’t come to light until the wheel fell off my sister’s skate and she tried mine. It all worked out pretty well, though. My sisters’ left skate was in fine condition, so I now had a replacement should one of my skates meet an untimely end before my feet got too big.

“I practically lived in those skates. I think for a while there I even had a pseudo limp to the right when walking. I’m rather clumsy even now, so someone will have to tell me if they see me leaning or walking sideways.”

Our table roared with laughter.

“Ye will have to be careful around staging stuff on sets as well. Ya might come orf looking like yer pissed. If I see it happen, I’ll catch ya. Good thing yer only goin’ into actin’ and not ballet or somethin’,” Alex said.

This memory was early adolescent, but luckily, my companions were all really young themselves and their stories were from high school—not too different, right? In my defense, it was difficult to rearrange my experiences without giving away I regenerated. Some of the things I mentioned were telling, and I hoped they would just cast it off as
common in America
jargon. For example, I wasn’t sure toy stores even sold the “big wheel” scooter anymore, and there were probably two Toys “R” Us left in the United States. In the ‘70s there was one in the strip mall in every suburb.

Again and again, I ask myself why I go to such lengths. I usually come to the conclusion that it’s not because I feel ashamed. There’s my aversion to admitting vanity or regrets I didn’t regret and I didn’t want repeat performances of what happened in Seattle. This said, I vow I will not lie if there comes a point when I feel overwhelmed acting as my mentally younger self.

Chapter Seventeen

Be not deceived: if I have veil’d my look,

I turn the trouble of my countenance

Merely upon myself. Vexed I am

Of late with passions of some difference,

Conceptions only proper to myself,

Which give some soil perhaps to my behaviors;

But let not therefore my good friends be grieved—

—William Shakespeare,
Julius Caesar (1.2)

・
・
・

OUR LITTLE CLUB HAS BEEN MEETING AND drinking after class at the Swan of Avon often enough, almost daily, in fact, I’ve started referring to us as “the collective,” a term which I am proud to admit has spread.
 

“We,
the collective
, are going for a pint, you coming?” Parker asked, grinning as he approached me. The others all seemed to fan out behind him.

“I am,” I said smirking.

“Would you drink beer if they served it in a teeny glass?” he teased, referring to my penchant for libations other than ale.

“I have been known to take a shot glass of beer every now and again. Somehow it doesn’t have the desired effect,” I smiled widely.

“Ya don’t like big glasses of booze? That’s barmy. What’s not to like? A few pints and yeh would be well pissed. There’s y’r effect.” Alex sniggered, looking around at a few of the others for agreement.

“Ale is not her preferred beverage,” Sima said by way of explanation, but I didn’t think this cleared anything up for Alex.

“Speakin’ of drinks, mates, let’s take this down to the rub dub,” Robert interjected.

We all walked out together, as
Reservoir Dogs
.

I feel I actually have a clique and I’m not just a sideline member. And now I’m also getting presumptuous about it. It occurred to me, if there’s a membership vote at some point later, there are a couple of members I wouldn’t mind evicting. Especially since chances are, I’m to be stuck with these characters for two years or more.

・ ・ ・

The continually new experiences have led to other, sometimes stranger happenings. For example, I did not foresee having to deal with being asked out on a date, at least not so soon. When I suspected an inkling earlier, I thought I managed to remain aloof on this front. Regardless of my failure to send any signals, the youth of today are more persistent in this respect, it seems.

I haven’t dated for a couple of decades, but it’s not as if I could voice this fact. How confusing would it be to say I hadn’t been on a date since before I was supposedly born or my potential date had even been imagined into this world? Still, I wonder if so much has changed since Michael and I dated. It’s not as if we courted—it wasn’t that long ago—but since everything moves forward, surely the ways of romance did as well.

It was Parker who asked me out. Thank God it wasn’t Alex, was my initial reaction. Although Parker is the most likable young man of the group, I simply had to tell him I was in a steady relationship with a guy in the United States. I left it as such and carried on for a while in general disinterest. It felt strange to call Michael just a guy, and even though my name is a constant reminder of him, there is much more than this to which I cling. I suppose if I truly wanted to know the answer to how I felt about us, I’d have to venture out and see about the fish. I just wasn’t ready for any of it yet. Besides, dating someone else was another term Michael and I hadn’t discussed as part of our separation. But I imagined a few dates wouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t have been too different from a co-ed friendship so long as nothing happened—this much I could guarantee.