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That Empty Feeling |
| Written by John Fillmore | |
| Monday, 18 February 2008 | |
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Share it:      That Empty Feeling
By: John Fillmore
Jack’s brother teased him about the fact that he never seemed to spend any time with friends. Well, Jack thought, I have friends. I hang out with them enough. I’m just busier than most people.
Jack went to tiny Franklin College, which was so small that his high school dwarfed the compact, muddy campus of Franklin. There wasn’t really much to say about Franklin that differentiated it from most other small liberal arts schools. It was so run of the mill that even their school slogan; “There’s only one Franklin!” was wrong. There was, in fact, another Franklin College in Canada. As if that wouldn’t be the first thing any Franklin student would search for on the internet. He had a pretty plain “jeans and T-shirt” style that he usually topped with a light plaid jacket that had been his fathers. It was threadbare and ugly, but he liked it. He listened to most kinds of music, although if he started his car up it was a fair bet that country music would soon shoot out of the speakers.
Jack had no real trouble with school. He was naturally gifted by most people’s standards, although they sold short the hard work he put into getting good grades. Just why he worked so hard for the grades was something he never questioned. That’s just what students were supposed to do. He hadn’t even declared his major yet. That was one of the things that attracted him to little Franklin in the first place. Jack didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, and Franklin gave him the opportunity to try out different things. Nothing much there was repulsive to him, but nothing lit his heart on fire, either.
He did have friends. He played on the baseball team, where he got average results from his sub-average ability. He loved baseball because his father had loved baseball. It was always something special they had shared together before his father died when Jack was 14. When he was younger, he would sit impatiently on the curb in front of his house with one ball and two right handed gloves everyday at around 4:55 pm. Without fail his father would take off his jacket and play catch with Jack until he had had his fill. He would sometimes throw batting practice to Jack, other times squat down in his dress pants to catch an erratic but enthusiastic eight year old.
So that was it for Jack, really. Baseball and school. He was friends with most of the team, but he didn’t really hang out with many of them. Baseball was enough by itself to keep Jack from going crazy, but he wished he still loved it like he did when he was a child. Since his innocence, girls and beer had crowded out feverish memorization of batting averages and ERA’s from the back of bubblegum cards. He wondered if he could ever love something as much as he used to love ball. That was before Jack met Katie.
“MEEEEEEEEEEK! MEEEEEEEEEEK!”
Jack jumped in his seat and wheeled around in the chair, a mixture of shock and confusion at the high pitched squeal that emanated from behind him in the library. It was late on a Wednesday night and he hadn’t even known there was anyone else in there. He gazed upon a strange figure. She must have been a freshman, because he didn’t recognize her off the bat, which was rare at tiny Franklin. She was a pretty petite blonde wearing bell bottoms with an awkward orange and pink polka dot dress over top. Her ensemble was topped off by frilly pink scarf. She glanced at him blankly.
“That’s my guinea pig ‘meek’,” she explained matter-of-factly, “I don’t drink caffeine so I have to keep myself awake with my guinea pig ‘meek’.”
He had no idea what to think. Disoriented from the late hour and the rodent shrieks, he continued to give a mystified look to the girl with the pink scarf. When he finally replied, it was as if he spoke with someone else’s voice.
“Why don’t you drink caffeine?” The obvious question. Forget the guinea pig screech, why didn’t she indulge in mild stimulants? The girl giggled, then threw her head back and emitted a high pitched “he-he-ha” that could only have come from a girl like her.
“Interesting,” she smiled, “I’m Katie.”
“I’m Jack,” he replied, “and sometimes I don’t know why I say things. Actually sometimes I don’t know why I do anything.”
This time it was her who gave the perplexed look. Something inside of Jack had switched on. Maybe it was the stress and tedious nature of his studying. Maybe it was because he wasn’t worried about looking like a weirdo in front of his classmates or teammates. But Jack had a feeling it had something to do with the completely random nature of the rodent squeal and he continued to vent.
“Sometimes I hate this place. Sometimes I want to just leave but I don’t know where I would go because I don’t love anything enough to fight the momentum of being here!” He poured out, “I just want to know what to do, what will make me happy.”
Katie looked off thoughtfully. “Well…do milkshakes make you happy?” she posed.
Milkshakes? It was March.
“As a matter of fact, they do.” Jack replied.
Regardless of the cold and the late hour, Jack and Katie went out to grab strawberry milkshakes at the restaurant downtown. She made fun of his country music, but he didn’t mind.
He took her to the ball field. Jack cleaned the snow out of the back of his truck and laid out his dad’s old horse blanket to lie on. It was surprisingly warm for an early spring night. He laid there with Katie and told her that sometimes he comes out to the field at night because it makes him feel a little better and proceeded to tell her all about his dad and this empty feeling that sometimes enveloped him in the dark winter days at Franklin. He emptied out his soul in the back of that old pick up truck that night. When he was done he just sat there and reflected on how it felt to admit things to a stranger about himself that he hadn’t even admitted to himself.
They were both quiet for a while, lying side by side. If Katie was too cold, she wasn’t letting on. By and by, Katie grabbed his hand and cupped it in hers. She laid her head on his chest over his heart, folded his arm around her neck, looked up at the stars and let out a deep sigh.
For the first time in a long time, Jack was at peace. Copyright 2008 John Fillmore |
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