Scenes From the City: A Knitting in the City Wintertime Surprise by Penny Reid Page B

screaming, throwing anything within reach. She’d tell me that she was through with Hivan because he’d cheated on her.
    He would eventually show up at some point during the next two days. I would leave. They’d have sex. Then everything would be fine for the next few days, and the cycle would repeat.
    Also fascinating, by the end of the first month, all pretext evaporated. They’d just plow into the room and go at it as soon as they’d breached the threshold regardless of whether I was present. Sometimes, if I was already asleep, I’d put on my headphones, blast music, and cover my face.
    The part of me that had a voracious appetite for observing and studying people was enthralled by their theatrics. It almost seemed like Hivan created the drama and excitement because he sensed Dara thrived on it. I didn’t understand this, why someone would crave this kind of drama, and so I studied them.
    Honestly, the situation didn’t bother me once I adjusted to it as my reality. In addition to my fascination, I figured it was all part of the genuine college experience. I supposed I was odd in this way. Situations that typically made other people uncomfortable or angry or offended were of intense interest to me.
    I’d always been an observer of human nature, more content to sit back and watch than get involved, but I suspected my extremely sheltered and structured upbringing was the root cause. I never had many friends because I’d had very few opportunities to make friends. Social interaction, social order, social norms, and dynamics were a mystery to me.
    I understood athletes. I understood drive and competition and ambition to succeed and have a singular purpose. But I didn’t understand this world of normal and varied interests because I’d never lived in it.
    The other two girls in my suite were Beth, a perpetually anxious and serious-minded pre-med freshman, and Fern.
    Fern was Beth’s opposite in every way.
    Where Beth was reed thin and dressed conservatively, and Fern was voluptuous and dressed like a 1950’s pinup. Where Beth was studying all the time and waking up early to exercise, Fern hardly ever went to class and frequently staggered into the suite intoxicated at all hours of the day and night.
    I think Beth and Fern got on each other’s nerves; Beth left by week six, opting to move into a single room elsewhere on campus as soon as it became available.
    Fern told me in passing that she was only going to college because her parents insisted that she at least try it for one or two years. What she really wanted to do was become a Scientologist minister, and she didn’t need a college degree for that. As such, Fern decided to major in Latin. She thought this was hilarious.
    Mostly, I kept to myself, watching, considering, unobtrusively attempting to solve the mysteries of those around me, what made people tick, and trying to soak up every day.
    Being alone in a sea of strangers didn’t trouble me. I didn’t crave social interaction, but I truly enjoyed watching people. I was enormously grateful for the freedom of finally living away from home, for being around people who didn’t know me and therefore didn’t look at me like I was breakable or about to explode or didn’t understand that brain tumors aren’t contagious.
    Here I was, just another college freshman, and all the nuttiness and theatrics and drama felt like a gift.
    ***
    “What are you doing?”
    I blinked at the voice and found Fern staring down at me, her bright red-painted lips curved into a immense smile.
    I shifted in my seat; my eyes flickered to the wall clock above my desk space. I was sitting in the general suite area, curled up on my desk chair while Hivan and Dara screamed at each other. If it hadn’t been January and the weather hadn’t been sub-zero, I would have walked to the library. My other option was the study rooms downstairs in the lobby of the dorm; however, on a day like this, those rooms were usually booked for