End of Innocence

Chapter XIII, The Last Year of California

The days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months, finally into years. Our undergraduate years were being consumed by the ever quickening pace of time with Ashley desperate to complete her studies and graduate at the same time as me. I managed to be able to take summers completely off, working various co-op positions that were offered by local employers in the areas of science, chemistry, and biology. Not so for Ashley. While her course-load was reduced to a saner level, taking three courses on average to her accustomed six to eight, she was nevertheless determined to eradicate the differences in scholastic years between her brother and herself. Often, I would question my dear love on what was consuming her with such urgency, that neither of us were going anywhere without the other, so why the formidable rush? Her response was simply that she had a plan in mind and that there would never be a differing set of years between us both ever again.

At times, in the deepest recesses of my mind, a thought would populate the area of the subconscious responsible for bringing seemingly unrelated information together and developed a correlation and proposed motive to all this action and reaction. Even as preposterous as it sounded to me at the moment, that my sister had been manipulating and responding to life's events from early childhood, it was as if she conducted the complete orchestra of not only her life but mine as well, together in a harmony created solely by her. As I traced through past events, my mind would perplex and postulate in the seemingly endless moves and countermoves that would be required of an individual, even as someone as bright as my Ashley, to be able to knowingly comprehend the strategies and outcomes of her desires. As quickly as those thoughts had made their appearance, they would begin to lose cohesion and all I could do was watch them drift away in wonder.

Was Ashley really that much of a savant that she could achieve her heart's longing, or even know what her soul craved from the time of early youth? As deeply as I loved her, knowing life would hold no meaning for me without her, to have someone that could change the circumstances of existence's game so that we both merged into the other and seeing how incredibly feminine that she was while understanding the strength that she possessed coupled with her incredible brilliance that I could only guess at, I was overtaken by such gratitude that I felt myself drifting into a state of being that only can be described as a transfiguration of presence. Ashley obviously knew something that I did not comprehend but the trust and love I felt for her overrode any objection that would have surfaced under more average events.

UC Los Angeles is definitely not UC Berkley, but it still has pride in being a reasonably liberal California institute of higher education. As such, governmental interference in the pursuit of art or ideas is as likely to be protested at UCLA as it is any other bastion of higher learning. In our senior year, both now that Ashley had reached her goal to graduate simultaneously with me, the 'unofficial' censors of Congress exerted undue pressure on various financial and banking establishments that if they continued to process purchases of written media that conflicted with the interests of free society, meaning exactly the dictates of what Congress considered acceptable, then certain regulatory and legal pressures would be applied.

Ashley, myself, our friends, and student colleagues are continually amazed not only at the impudence of our politicians in general but the incredulous fact that the unconstitutional exertion placed on a democratic society ruled by permission of the people could actually think that what they do behind closed doors could remain secret for any length of time. Specifically, Pay Pal and others that complete transactions of books and materials from various vendors such as Amazon were to be hamstrung if their customers wanted to purchase material deemed offensive. Books depicting sex with vampires, most likely by the popularity of the genre, were tolerable but not so if the offending creature was a werewolf, shapeshifter, or alien.

In addition, anything that represented incest was absolutely verboten despite the fact that Lolita, Timeline, and Flowers in The Attic are considered to be among the top one hundred novels written in the twentieth century. This, of course, incensed Ashley immeasurably. Her lovely and compassionate nature was completely overwhelmed by any interference in how two people should love one another. Balancing out her activist nature over implied censorship was the unpretentious reality that only a very few and absolutely trusted friends knew of our complete unbending devotion to each other. In the State of California, incest was still illegal but not often enforced between two consenting adults. However, we were not ready to challenge the legal standing; we wanted to be left alone. Ashley began to think.

As any good university with a population in excess of 40,000 students, a protest is often seen as a unwilling liaison between students genuinely concerned over governmental infringement issues, others that see the opportunity to cause trouble for the thrill of the attempt, and mostly, an excuse to break from the monotony and routine of college life to engage in revelry while pretending to be offended. Ashley was definitely in the former group while I, to be honest, straddled the groups of concerned protestors and the celebratory crowd. It was our senior year, after all, and the inevitable decompression that occurs towards the end of a four-year journey when a person finally realizes the endless hours of study, concentration, and educational immersion were reaching their logical conclusions. These overt attempts by the leadership in the country to dictate societal ethics were taken with a particularly harsh tone within the departments of the various literary groups and of scientific research.

A normally unusual alliance but considering the previous bans on stem cell research and the abolishment of any real manned space program, there was a certain sympathy that developed between the two unlike disciplines. The protests resulted in few arrests and little damage except to the brain cells that were under chemical duress. My sweet sister was understandably disappointed by my apparent lack of complete enthusiasm, but she was accommodating, nonetheless. She wholly understood that my motives were that of a person reaching the end of an extended excursion and not that I believed the cause was not just.

Ashley and I began to have deep and meaningful conversations as to what we wanted to do post-graduation besides continue with the love that had forever captured us both. We had both majored in natural sciences and performed quite well. Opportunities began to avail themselves to us and were indeed substantial. We discussed continuing on with our education, possibly becoming professors ourselves, medical school, or working in corporate research. Ashley seemed to be completely interested in all of my ideas and suggestions, but she gradually steered the conversations towards, yes doctors of a sort, but Doctors of Veterinary Medicine. Her natural affinity for all living creatures first manifested itself as a child still running in diapers where every animal in the neighborhood would be drawn to that golden girl.

I had to admit, my love for animals was deeply profound, but just like everything that I seemed to do when compared to my love; I was a duller mirror of what her perfection represented. I was interested in what she was driving towards but when asked where she would like to attend, her opinion changed to a statement: Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. An Ivy League school some 3,000 miles away from the sun, sand, and surf that we had grown up to love and know was about as far away to me as the moon itself. Sure, we had traveled around the country, mostly on the West Coast, but New York?

Ashley then suggested it was time to sell the family home to not only fund our future educations and perhaps buy something quaint just for the two of us but to finally give us the new start that our hearts yearned for, the two of us setting out as adults and newly minted graduates on our life's adventure. That feeling of impending manipulation was beginning to tickle at my subconscious again but like before, to argue with Ashley who seemed to know me better than I myself was something that ultimately would be relegated into oblivion by an act of acceptance in her good judgment. I agreed that we would at least begin the application process.

Our senior year, like the years before, was shared with our closest friends. Each one excited to tell of prospects, opportunities offered, and impending nuptials between long-term relationships. This was a time to be happy, to celebrate each other's hopes, dreams, and aspirations. Even Derek seemed to come more alive and open during this time but occasionally, alcohol consumption contributed to some bizarre behavior, at least for Derek. At times, if Derek imbibed sufficiently, he would exhibit an arrogance that he never showed completely sober. He began to communicate without his customary courtesy, especially towards women and occasionally, even Ashley.

This new phenomenon was such a gradual decline that throughout his college tenure, it went largely unnoticed or uncommented upon. Mostly, it was ignored and tolerated because the group to the person, except for Ashley, had at one time or another slipped the bounds of good etiquette, had too much to drink, and created circumstances for themselves that were largely out of character and deeply regretted. As Derek did not spend a great deal of time with us as did the members of the inner circle, it never occurred to us what he might be doing during those periods where he was left to himself or with other people such as his fellow ball players. We were all focused on our respective graduations and mostly concerned ourselves with what the potential future might hold.

The day of commencement for the College of Letters and Science held at Drake Stadium was a crisp, beautiful, warm, and wonderful day with the skies as blue as the nearby Pacific. Ashley had gone to the salon a day before having her hair teased with great care and finesse, her nails manicured, a deep body massage and treatment that made her look absolutely radiant. The personal attention allowed her to relax and become completely free of stress from the incredible workload that she had endured to reach this day. She carefully applied what little makeup that she wore, and I opined that she never needed, and dressed in a beautiful summer dress that swept away my breath. We were so excited that I was concerned that somehow, we would become distracted while driving back to campus and end up getting lost and confused on our way to our own graduation.

This was our day, a day where the both of us labored so hard, a day where the two of us would be able to provide support to the other, a day missed by both of our parents. Again, the feeling that Ashley knew exactly what she was doing, why perhaps she worked so hard to reach the same graduation, to be able to give and receive something that was taken away by the tragic workings of fate. Had Ashley done this so that we would not feel so much like the orphans that we were? Only Providence and my sweet sister knew for sure and neither felt like admitting anything of the kind to a mere mortal as myself. The building of anticipation, the climax of the entire ordeal, and suddenly, it was all over; completed.

I am sure that the sense of finality, of the end achievement, is not nearly as exciting and the steps leading to it, it seems that there is only one true orgasm in the scheme of nature despite the celebrations of the carefully marked phases of life. The truth of the matter is that life does continue and where one crowning glory ends another one begins. It is not to say that we did not revel in our success, it was just a fact of life. The only event that grows in our lives, that has nothing but another second or day of anticipation followed by another are the days we have between ourselves. That growing bond is its own reward. As the dean called our names and bestowed our baccalaureate of science degrees upon my dearest love and me, we stepped off the platform to the cheers of our classmates, to a graduation party, and then onto life itself. We were heading to New York in the autumn.