IN A RUT LIKE A DEAD FISH WITH A LIMP DICK
I wasa small part of a large crowd of men and women, all alike in black robes and gold tassels representing the graduates of Emory University. The only thing distinguishing us from one another is the multicolored sashes laying loosely around our necks. The sweltering Georgia heat was nowhere to be felt from earlier on in the day. The setting sun in the distance was a welcome sight for all in attendance. As I sat amongst my peers, I gazed questionly in desperate search of Lucas. The white chair beneath me creaked as I craned my neck to overlook the crowd. The sound of bagpipes starting in the distance breaks my concentration. A sigh escaped from my lips in mild contrition.
Ugh. Where is he?
Bagpipers begin playing the generic “Pomp and Circumstance.” The melody filled the loudspeakers around us as they walked down the aisle in a processional led by the commencement speaker. He took his rightful place at the podium and directed the crowd of students in front of him. I crossed my ankles in front of me, prepared to listen to whatever inspirational musings are in line today.
“Good evening, Emory graduates of 2022. We are in awe of all you have achieved. You have earned all of this. You have earned all the accolades. You have earned this celebration in your honor. Your experience at Emory has prepared you for life in the real world. This graduating class is not like any other. I have great faith in the future leaders made in this community,” he states, his hand forming into a fist at the podium as he nodded his head at the crowd.
A roaring applause erupted in the crowd as the moment came for us all to walk on stage. I threaded a hand through the waves of my raven black hair. I peer over to see my row stand up and walk in formation to the stage. As I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, I nervously stood up and walk with the row of fellow graduates before me. My heels stepping into the soft green lawn of the football field. Instantly I became acutely aware that I was alone. My family wasn’t here. Everyone here had a parent or a friend in their corner providing solace and comfort. I had Lucas.
As I think of him he appears. His blonde hair glistened against the last of the sun’s shining beam above him as he walked across the stage.
“Lucas Hart,” the commencement speaker bellows.
I grip my hands together and blew all my nervous energy into my fingers as I brought them to my lips. I watch as my boyfriend slams his fists in the air exuberantly. He shakes hands with professors that lined the stage and stops at the end of the stage and poses for a photo with his framed diploma in his hands. The dimpled smile he graces me with made me weak in the knees. Seeing him I gained my confidence back as I walked across the stage with reinvigorated purpose.
My feet walk across the stage on autopilot, one after another. I am handed the small, framed document and told “congratulations,” mutedly in my mind. I shook hands with the professors who shaped my last four years, and I couldn’t help but get emotional overlooking the crowd.
“This is for you,” I whisper silently, hoping incessantly that my grandparents and my mother are together in their next life looking over me.
I hope I am something that they could be proud of.
I stop at the end of the stage and look up at the gazes of graduates before me. There he is sitting amongst his friends. I take a deep breath as he looks up to meet my expectant gaze.
We graduated my love.
I am overwhelmed and perplexed within seconds of each other. Lucas looks down to his hands inconspicuously. My eyebrows furrow together in utter dismay.
Why wouldn’t he look at me?
* * *
An hour passedand all the speeches were done, and all the diplomas given out. As I stood next to a large maple tree waiting to see Lucas, questions circled in my head and dizzying my brain with ease. My body stiffens with tension in anticipation of a confrontation.
“What the fuck,” I whisper to myself, twisting the promise ring on my ring finger.
I shake my head in frustration as Lucas walks towards me with his friends. He catches my expectant gaze and turns to his friend and tells them goodbye. I stand with my back against the bark of the tree behind me, trying to act nonchalant. Not show the seething anger that swirled inside me that he was not there for me. He puts his hand around my waist, and I sigh exasperatedly, curling away from his touch. I have always been self-conscious of touching my stomach and he knew that.
“Stop, you know I hate that,” I sigh.
“Right, I forgot I can’t touch you like a boyfriend touches his girlfriend,” he scoffs, shaking his head while his eyes rolled back in irritation.
“Why were you like that?” I ask quietly.
His eyebrows shoot up and twister together in confusion, “Like what? I can’t graduate to your specifications?” he asks frustratedly.
This isn’t him. This isn’t the Lucas I grew up with. This isn’t the Lucas I lost my virginity to on prom night. This isn’t the Lucas I was going to spend the rest of my life with.
“Excuse me?” I ask skeptically.
“Look, high school was amazing together. College started to be fun, but over the years it’s changed,” he says, letting out a harsh breath.
“What?” I ask in a hushed whisper.
“You have changed. Emotionally and physically,” he says pointedly, his finger travelling down to my stomach and down my thighs.
“Physically? I have gained weight, but we all have. It’s college,” I argue.
“Not everyone, Amelia,” he says, his fingers playing with a curl of hair against my neck.
My weight was never an issue before. When did he become so heartless to call out my weight and throw insults at me?
“Are you seriously doing this right now?” I ask through gritted teeth, recoiling at his touch.
“It’s time to be an adult, have adult relationships. I need to focus on my career, and you need to focus on losing all that weight and take care of your father,” he says in a condescending tone, ego dripping from every word.
“You have the nerve to bring up my father to me?” I ask angrily.
He cocks his head to the side and gave me his trademark dimpled smile.