Chapter 7

I glared at my alarm clock. "Do you always moan in your sleep," Krystal was awake, looking down at me. I was definitely a sweaty mess, my body still alert from the dream. 

"I was just restless, being in a new place and all," I replied. She shrugged and sat down at her desk to do her makeup. There wasn't a single scholastic item on her desk; she had a full, lighted mirror with more makeup than a Sephora. Some evangelical snake oil salesman was playing on the TV that I’d bought from home. 

"I'm meeting the campus pastor for morning prayer," she said, dowsing herself in Victoria’s Secret Love Potion body spray.

I smiled, throwing my legs out of bed. They still felt like Jell-O from the dream. If Colin could turn my legs to Jell-O in my dream, what was he capable of in real life? The prospect felt enthralling. "Is he hot?" I asked.

"He is a married, Christian man," Krystal snapped. Right. Because I'd do a full face for a married, Christian man at 8am on a Saturday,too.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?" I asked. She shook her head, her chunky highlighted bob waving in unison and I went to pee and put on more deodorant. That was a hell of a dream.

Alexis was waiting for me in her 4Runner in the Dominion Hall parking lot, blaring Dave Matthews Band. Her white truck was adorned with a colorful lei around the rearview mirror and she had printed out Mapquest directions to the local Walmart on the dash.

"Hey girl," I said while hopping into the passenger side, "Thank you so much for this, I didn't realize how much random shit I forgot and needed." Alexis laughed and drove us down the abandoned Wexford main street to the massive Walmart outside of town that put all the aforementioned main street shops out of business when it was built. It was a shame; Wexford had the potential to be an adorable, bustling town and perhaps when gentrification reached Appalachia, it would be. But the depressing sight of it made me want to study abroad even more. 

Looking down at my cart while in line, my purchases were more reminiscent of a sensible 36 year old woman rather than an 18 year old just starting her life. Extra pillows and mattress topper, super soft sheets, a bedside floor lamp with shelves, a few tiny succulents for said shelves, a cool mist humidifier with an essential oils diffuser, anti-wrinkle cream, Aleve, desk organizers, various office supplies in soothing colors and the largest capacity coffee pot Walmart sold. I knew I could round out my creature comforts while I was home the following weekend; I didn't want to fill poor Alexis's truck to the brim.

Back in my room, Krystal was thankfully still preoccupied with her married pastor so I had the chance to fully survey what I'd decided to bring to college. I thumbed through photos of friends I weirdly felt I hadn’t seen in years and pinned the Polaroids in neat rows on the wall. I removed my edgy posters in favor of a more minimal look and cozied up the bed. I carefully reorganized my desk so it's main purpose was school. I was actually looking forward to my course choices; my main goal is to use my creativity to achieve financial independence at a job I'm passionate about. Not many people are that lucky and I had a chance to curate a professional niche for myself. I didn't want to blow it.

I was tucking my new sheets around my bed when Krystal returned from bible thumping. Her neat bob looked decidedly rumpled. 

“Pastor Duane blessed me today,” she told me excitedly. I wondered what her definition of ‘bless’ was. 

“That’s nice,” I wasn’t sure how to respond to her enthusiasm. “Do you want to grab some dinner,” I asked her. She shrugged and we set out to see what culinary creations the dining hall had to offer. She told me how she was majoring in home economics and I choked a bit on my drink.

“That’s a major?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Not exactly,” she replied, “But I’ve curated my course load to train me to be the perfect housewife.” At least she was honest.

“I feel like those skills could be beneficial in a teaching capacity,” I offered. I could tell she thought about it for a moment before telling me all about the Quiverfull Movement happening within her church. I listened with interest and mild concern for her autonomy. Krystal was a kind person and church was her world, you do you. I could see a spark in her that had so much more to offer than a housewife in training.

I spent Saturday night in, my social battery depleted for the day, engrossed in Lost and spent my Sunday at the campus bookstore, readying myself for the semester.