Dear John(26)

“I don’t know,” she said. “Why?”

I didn’t answer. “Did you ever have a serious boyfriend?”

“Oh, now we’re getting down to the nitty-gritty, huh?”

“I was just asking.”

“What do you think?”

“I think,” I said, dragging out the words, “I have no idea.”

She laughed. “Then . . . let’s let that question go for now. A little mystery is good for the soul. Besides, I’d be willing to bet you can figure it out on your own.”

The waitress arrived with the bucket of shrimp and a couple of plastic containers of cocktail sauce, set them on the table, and refilled our tea with the efficiency of someone who’d been doing it for way too long. She turned on her heels without asking whether we needed anything else.

“This place is legendary for its hospitality.”

“She’s just busy,” Savannah said, reaching for a shrimp. “And besides, I think she knows you’re grilling me and wanted to leave me to my inquisitor.”

She cracked the shrimp and peeled it, then dipped it in the sauce before taking a bite. I reached in the pail and set a couple on my plate.

“What else do you want to know?”

“I don’t know. Anything. What’s the best thing about being in college?”

She thought about it as she filled her plate. “Good teachers,” she finally said. “In college, you can sometimes pick your professors, as long as you’re flexible with your schedule. That’s what I like. Before I started, that was the advice my dad gave me. He said to pick classes based on the teacher whenever you can, not the subject. I mean, he knew that you had to take certain subjects to get a degree, but his point was that good teachers are priceless. They inspire you, they entertain you, and you end up learning a ton even when you don’t know it.”

“Because they’re passionate about their subjects,” I said.

She winked. “Exactly. And he was right. I’ve taken classes in subjects I never thought I’d be interested in and as far away from my major as you can imagine. But you know what? I still remember those classes as if I were still taking them.”

“I’m impressed. I thought you’d say something like going to the basketball games was the best part about being in college. It’s like a religion at Chapel Hill.”

“I enjoy those, too. Just like I enjoy the friends I’m making and living away from Mom and Dad and all that. I’ve learned a lot since I left Lenoir. I mean, I had a wonderful life there, and my parents are great, but I was . . . sheltered. I’ve had a few eye-opening experiences.”

“Like what?”

“Lots of things. Like feeling the pressure to drink or hook up with a guy every time I went out. My first year, I hated UNC. I didn’t feel like I fit in, and I didn’t. I begged my parents to let me come home or transfer, but they wouldn’t agree. I think they knew that in the long run I’d regret it, and they were probably right. It wasn’t until some time during my sophomore year that I met some girls who felt the same way I did about those types of things, and it’s been a lot better ever since. I joined a couple of Christian student groups, I spend Saturday mornings at a shelter in Raleigh serving the poor, and I feel no pressure at all to go to this or that party or date this or that guy. And if I do go to a party, the pressure doesn’t get to me. I just accept the fact that I don’t have to do what everyone else does. I can do what’s right for me.”

Which explained why she was with me last night, I thought. And right now, for that matter.

She brightened. “It’s kind of like you, I guess. In the past couple of years, I’ve grown up. So in addition to both of us being expert surfers, we have that in common, too.”

I laughed. “Yeah. Except that I struggled a lot more than you did.”

She leaned forward again. “My dad always said that when you’re struggling with something, look at all the people around you and realize that every single person you see is struggling with something, and to them, it’s just as hard as what you’re going through.”

“Your dad sounds like a smart man.”

“Mom and Dad both. I think they both graduated in the top five in college. That’s how they met. Studying in the library. Education was really important to both of them, and they sort of made me their project. I mean, I was reading before I got to kindergarten, but they never made it seem like a chore. And they’ve talked to me like I was an adult for as long as I can remember.”

For a moment, I wondered how different my life would have been had they been my parents, but I shook the thought away. I knew my father had done the best he could, and I had no regrets about the way I’d turned out. Regrets about the journey, maybe, but not the destination. Because however it had happened, I’d somehow ended up eating shrimp in a dingy downtown shack with a girl that I already knew I’d never forget.