I fumbled for my handkerchief again as the beads of sweat threatened to roll down into my glasses. Cursing to myself as the end of the futon bumped into my shin, I decided that another quick break was in order. The bricks of the dormitory hallway were cool on my back and honestly helped a bit with the ache, as I made myself as thin as possible and let the other dads behind me move through with the unwieldy luggage their own daughters had packed for the new semester. Yet, none of those daughters were to be seen anywhere other than under the old, shady oaks at the edge of the pristinely manicured lawn that stretched away below the fourth floor window I stared out of.
"Kids these days... typical..." I muttered half to myself. One of my fellow luggage-bearers chuckled with me... I guess dad humor really is universal.
The futon still sat at my feet. I don't know why, but I had hoped it would look lighter this time.
It did not.
I sighed and leaned back against the wall, taking my time to catch my breath. This was harder than I expected. Not just the futon. I couldn't believe it was finally happening. Just yesterday... I swear it wasn't more than a year ago... a month?... a week? Rebecca had only just learned to walk herself to school... she couldn't be moving into her freshman dormitory already. But she was. While I don't consider myself a sentimental man, I admit it was getting to me. My handkerchief moved up to mop under my eye... dammit... more sweat... that's definitely all it was...
"Mr. Lewis, honestly! My eyes are up here! Helloooooo!"
Snapping back to reality, my field of view was filled with the university's crest on thin white fabric, pulled taught over a pair of firm, bouncing breasts. I jumped in surprise and cursed as my shin connected with the arm of the futon.
"Dammit Emmy..." I didn't mean it to sound harsh, but she still looked a bit taken aback. "Sorry... just caught thinking about... you know... life..." I ended that lamely and kicked myself internally for it.
"No, no, I'm sorry!! It was a joke... honest!" and she did look sorry... or at least concerned. She helped me down onto the futon, where I rubbed my shin and sat back with a sigh.
"You know, Em, you and Becky really can't be old enough for this whole college thing... maybe you should wait... stay in high school... don't grown up and make us all feel so old..." It was wishful thinking, and I knew that. This is life. This is what happens as time goes on.
Emily laughed as she sat down on the futon next to me, brushing her long auburn hair out of her eyes. She had been best friends with Rebecca for as long as I could remember. Honestly, when my wife, Megan, and I were talking about it on the drive over, we couldn't even agree on when the two of them met. I swear it was in kindergarten, but Megan reminded me that Emily had been a year ahead in school at that time, and they couldn't have met until 2nd grade, when Emily had been held back a year. Megan just had a memory like that. I suppose she was right, but it hardly mattered to me. Emily and Rebecca had been practically joined at the hip since they met, whenever that had been. She was basically family. Perhaps that was partly because her own family was so messed up. Her parents had separated, and she spent her childhood bouncing around between their houses and ours. Meanwhile, Rebecca had always insisted on bringing her over to our house for meals, sleepovers, and occasionally whole weeks at a time whenever Emily's mother or father was dating someone particularly unsavory. She and Rebecca had had their falling outs and reunions over the years, as all teenage girls do, but they never abandoned each other. Now, they had both gotten into the same university -- Megan was ecstatic that it was only a 30-minute drive from our house -- and it looked like they would be inseparable for at least another four years. I knew they were in for a lifetime friendship given how childhood and college friendships tend to go, but I didn't tell them that now. Four years is hard enough for a teenager to grasp, let alone a lifetime. At the little sendoff party we had thrown for Rebecca and Emily, she had stopped to tell Megan and me how much our family and house meant to her. It was sweet, and Megan had cried as they hugged... I'll admit my own eyes were a bit damp as well.
Here we sat. On the cheapest Walmart futon I could convince Rebecca to try. While I prided myself on my fitness, taking care to run and lift regularly, it was certainly a fact that I wasn't as young as I once was. My 40th birthday was looming at the end of the month, and I was dreading it more than I would care to admit. My back was killing me, and my muscles were strained and aching. I groaned at the thought of the boxes still waiting in the car, drawing a laugh from Emily.
"You kids sure do have a lot of stuff these days..." I grumbled as I prepared to stand up again.
She laughed. "I'll help you with this one at least, Mr. Lewis. Come on."
Together, we managed to get it through the doorway of Rebecca's tiny room along with the TV, her bedding, and two suitcases full of clothes. By the end of the project, I had given up on keeping my glasses dry, and my t-shirt had fully adhered to my abs and my chest, a full two shades darker than when I had started. Emily leaned against the wall with me, breathing just as heavily, and passed me a water bottle. I tried to keep my eyes front and center as I drained half of it, but it was difficult. It seemed the other dads had managed to rope their daughters into helping. One after another, an endless parade of freshman girls, all in tiny workout shorts and tight tank-tops, some simply in sports bras, waltzed past carrying this box or that suitcase. I was trying as hard as possible to give them no notice, painfully aware of the basketball shorts I was wearing myself, not wanting to cause a scene before my daughter's first day of college had even started. I forced myself to avoid staring at the toned young woman who pranced past me, almost like she was trying to flaunt her ass in a particularly short pair of shorts, bouncing her large breasts in a tight, neon pink sports bra. My attention was instead turned to my phone, the unread texts to my daughter taunting me.
"Seriously, Em... you should give Becky a call... It's not right to be helping this much while she's MIA..."
She sighed and glanced at her own phone. "She said Mrs. Lewis was taking her to the bookstore... I guess they got held up... jesus christ, pass me that water again..."
She let her head rest back on the wall as she took a gulp, but the bottom of the bottle slipped, emptying its contents all over her collarbone. She choked and sputtered, her hand coming up to try to salvage whatever she could of her bottle, but then she looked up at my slack jaw and wide eyes and burst out laughing.
"Mr Lewis! SERIOUSLY!! oh my god you should really see your face!!" Her laughter brought on another bout of coughing, and she doubled over, emitting the strange and painful combination of both sounds. In her distress, the remainder of the water bottle crumpled in her hand, spurting what water was left directly up into her eyes. The whole situation would have been laughable, but my attention had been fully captivated by the rivulets of water running down her thin white t-shirt, clinging to her skin, and revealing, admittedly to my surprise, that her breasts were not supported by any sort of bra under the oversized, cropped university tee that hung from her shoulders.
Maybe I was just naïve, maybe I had been actively repressing the thought as we labored under Rebecca's possessions, but I was suddenly faced with two perfectly round, bouncing, visible breasts directly under my nose. To make matters worse, Emily instinctively reached for the hem of her shirt to wipe away the water that stung her eyes. Her hands seemed to move in slow motion, as she gripped, pulled, lifted, and finally drew the edge of her shirt up to her eyes. The fabric clung to her soaked skin for half an instant, as if trying to shield her from my gaze. Inevitably, however, it was forced up and off her smooth skin, shining dully in the light from the window. The crease of fabric continued to rise until stopping just under the dark circle that clung to her near-transparent shirt and marked the location of her nipple. I stood transfixed by the pale underside of her right breast as she used the fabric to relieve her soaked eyes, only to look up, mortified, and lock eyes with her. The silence was so thick you could hear it drumming in the hallway.
"um... Mr. Lewis... I..." she was as embarrassed as I was. I needed to save both of us from this situation as quickly as I could, but my throat was dry and my brain had forgotten every basic language skill.
My phone rang. We both let out a breath. The hallway was once again alive with the sounds of freshmen and their families milling about. I turned away to take the call.
"Hi dadddyyyy...." Rebecca's tone told me she knew she was in trouble. "Sooooooo, mom and I just finished at the bookstore... um... seriously daddy, the LINES... so... I'll head over to Cassidy and help you and Em with the stuff? ... um ... you're still there I hope?"
I sighed. "Yeah... still here... most of your stuff is up already, baby girl... Em was really a champ... yeah, just come on over and you can get whatever is left."
I hung up but stayed looking at my screen for another minute or two, pretending to do anything other than running over the options of how to turn around and face Emily, who had practically entered a wet t-shirt contest. In the end, I didn't need to worry, as she came around the corner from the opposite direction already covered by one of Rebecca's old hoodies.
I looked up and started "I-"
"I... um... was cold and needed a sweater..." Emily looked at me for confirmation of the story.
