Hello Readers. This is not a traditional story where you need to read chapter one to understand chapter two, or two to understand three. Each post can be read separately. I am simply using this system to organize my stories. ~Janet
*****
I was definitely out of my element. Normally in these situations I felt confident and in control, but I had never actually been in this situation before.
"Well, Janet, what are your thoughts?"
I scrambled for an answer. "To be honest, I kind of like the idea of experiences being important, but tossing science aside seems silly."
"Class? What do you think of this? Has Janet's simple approach captured a flaw with Existentialism? Think about it, and we will discuss this next time."
And with that the first week ended. I was thankful that I didn't embarrass myself too badly. I have always enjoyed classes, but I wasn't a student here, and this was my first philosophy class. In fact, very few of us may be students here. Community colleges often fill summer classes with students home from their colleges, with older people looking to exercise their brains, or with students like myself -- those trying to stay ahead of the competition.
Although uncertain in class, I was certainly enjoying the benefits of being a summer student. The campus was quite beautiful in the summer, and leaving class after 9PM into the warm summer air made me feel free. The drive home -- cruising down 495 with the radio blaring -- was also freeing, placing me in my own small world where anything was possible.
As the class continued, I became more confident. Once feeling more normal, I took stock of my classmates. Too many took the class lightly, and some seemed forced to be there. The person who took the class most seriously, and definitely wanted to be there, was the only person who looked more out of place than I felt.
Andre was quiet, and the professor almost never called on him. I wondered if it was because Andre was the only African-American in the class, or if it was because Andre was the oldest student. Andre was the oldest man in the room, actually, as he looked older than our professor. Regardless, Andre seemed engaged with the material, which I thought was pretty cool.
Andre and I didn't speak to each other for the first third of the summer session. It was only when I spotted him sitting alone at a table in the library, just a few hours before our first test, that we finally spoke.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
"Of course not. It's Janet, right?"
"Yes, and you're Andre?"
"Correct. Are you also cramming for the exam?"
"Not cramming, really, just going over notes. Want to do that together?"
He did, so we did. For two hours we discussed class material, imagined questions that the professor might ask, and focused on the exam. As we were leaving the library Andre asked a question that I had never asked myself before, but have repeated to myself during every class I have taken since.
"Is this class giving you what you need?"
"Um, I haven't really thought about it that way. Why do you ask?"
"It's a philosophy class, Janet. We are supposed to be thinking about life. Investing in this class means that you cannot invest in something else. The benefits of this class should outweigh its costs. You need it to, or you're wasting an opportunity."
I was blown away by his words and responded lamely by turning the question back to him. "Is this class giving you what you need, Andre?"
He smiled. "I'm pretty far from needing any more course credits, Janet. What I seek is stimulation, and interaction. Until you sat at the table tonight, this class had not been giving me what I need."
With no additional words spoken, we went and took the exam. His words were re-spoken, however, in my mind all during the exam. I did OK, but my focus was elsewhere.
*****
Andre and I met before class for the next few weeks. We discussed class material, mostly, but our conversations covered other topics as well. I asked the more personal questions while he focused more on personal philosophy. For example, I discovered that he was my father's age, but instead of asking me mine, he discussed how age-itself might not be linear in the way that we normally think of it. When I made mention of racial issues, he dismissed them as focusing on tiny differences instead of celebrating similarities.
I fell for Andre, but it wasn't because he was so clearly wrong for me. Rather, his words convinced me -- without trying -- that he was so right for me. Still, I hid my crush from him. As it turned out, he was hiding his from me.
In early August, after our third and final exam, Andre walked me to my car.
"I'm going to miss you, Janet."
"We can still be friends, Andre!"
"Maybe, but that will be a real challenge. I'm moving to California. I'll be flying out Sunday morning, I've already shipped my possessions. This class was supposed to be my goodbye to the area and to this school. As it turns out, I'll be most sad to say goodbye to you."
I was speechless. I didn't want to say goodbye, and I definitely didn't want him to leave. When Andre saw me tear up, he bent down and kissed me. I put my arms around his neck and kissed him back. It was a beautiful kiss, slow and tender.
When the moment broke, and I realized what had happened, I became nervous. With my nerves, came insecurities, and doubts. I had to leave.
"No, Janet, don't go."
"I have to get home, Andre, sorry."
"Come on. Let me take you out for a drink."
His comment was unexpected, but it did clarify his perception. He didn't know that I couldn't be served yet. I liked that, so I didn't correct him. "No, seriously Andre, I just need to get home."
"Look, Janet, we just had a beautiful moment, after a beautiful semester. I know that more paths cross than meet, but in a small way, we have been on the same path during this class. I'm not ready to end that walk."
The man's mind was absolutely beautiful. His body, too, was beautiful. He was tall, on the thin side, and definitely fit. His dark features were framed with graying hair, his smile was broad and genuine, and his eyes were magical.
"I can walk for a bit Saturday morning."
"Great, Janet. Lets meet here at 10:00. I'll bring a picnic and we can walk around Kenoza Lake and eat in the park. How does that sound?"
