3 a.m. in Oakland is for tight skirts and wobbling feet, unsteady as they traverse uneven sidewalks. Every weekend, we struggled to make the most of our nearly all-female college by attending rowdy parties meant for the neighboring city university’s students.
Our mission remained unchanged -- dorm, club, food, and back to the dorms, a routine we’d all grown to love in our short time as close friends. On nights like those, we hopped on noisy yellow school buses we thought we’d left behind, now praying not to miss the last one as we hadn’t the budget for a jitney. The bus brakes shrieked, announcing its final destination. We unloaded and followed the co-ed herd to McDonald’s on the lower campus of the nearby city university for a medium fry we’d split five ways. The city university had everything we didn’t. It was the real college experience we desperately chased on weekends as underaged liberal arts students from an afterthought of higher learning down the way. The buzz of elation faded as the let-out crowd shrank and the rush died down, all signs to start heading back towards the dorms. Silence grew around us as we neared our own campus. Occasionally, we broke the emptiness with chortles of laughter shrouded in boozy breaths visible in the frigid air. The few cars we’d seen earlier in the evening tapered off, as if people knew there was nothing worthwhile beyond the edge of lower campus. Lost in our recaps of the night, we heard the hum of a vehicle approaching, its bright lights competing with the muted street lamps and neon signs from the awkwardly placed motel by the intersection. We continued on making nothing of its arrival until the car missed the turn to the local women’s hospital and met us at our side. As the wheels slowed on the dark BMW, a thin, olive-skinned man with dark hair, dressed for the office, grinned at us before asking for directions to the airport. My friend replied first, politely letting him know how far he was from his destination. I looked on in silence, somehow hoping to draw the dormitories closer by envisioning the building with intention. “Not a clue, sorry,” another one of my friends replied tersely, showing complete disinterest in his troubles. A few looks were exchanged between us before we silently came to the same conclusion about the wanderer and chose to continue walking while the interaction was interrupted. Several minutes later, we turned the final corner arriving at our dorms, now silent and slightly more sobered — a good end to a long night.
2 Comments
Desireé
1/10/2024 08:13:08 am
From the title of the piece to the contents of it, definitely took me back and gave me sweet nostalgia! I can definitely relate to those moments you shared in your descriptive and engaging writing. I look forward to catching up and reading the pieces you’ve written previously. Thanks for sharing your gift with us!
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MètierLounge
1/10/2024 11:17:50 pm
Thank you, Des!
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This site is for me, but I'm happy that you're here. I’m Gabrielle, a short story and creative writer. Browse my quick short stories and let me know what you think. Don’t forget to subscribe! Archives
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