Author’s Note: Are you familiar with the late 80s and early 90s family sitcom Full House

Disclaimer: I do not own any trademarked, registered, or licensed noun mentioned in the text below.

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Why is chivalry never around when you need it?

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“Don’t forget your sneakers!” Dina yelled from behind the bookshelf she was trying to maneuver toward the doorway.

“Where are they?” I asked hastily as I made way for the same door but with a battered desk and a garbage can full of odds and ends.

“I don’t know where they are. I’m just reminding you,” Dina supplied.

I rolled my eyes and blew a few loose strands out of my eyes. Moving out was particularly difficult when you had a million things to remember. Having unreasonably cumbersome furniture didn’t help either.

“Could you let me know if you find my alarm clock. I think I threw it somewhere last weekend when it went off at six. I can’t believe I haven’t gotten that thing to work properly all year. Really, you’d think something like an alarm clock would be simple enough to operate. I should just buy a new one for next year. What do you think, Elsie?”

I failed to reply since I had made it into the hallway with less difficulty than I had anticipated. Dina’s relationship with alarm clocks was interesting, to say the least. Her tendency to fall asleep sporadically during our freshman year led me to assume that she was a narcoleptic in the making. A bulletin board full of Polaroids taken during her odd naps always provided a few laughs among our friends. This past year, however, my sleeping habits matched hers frighteningly well. Professors weren’t the least bit hesitant in assigning a handful of projects at a time. With exams and some semblance of a social life, I was really looking forward to a summer of vegging out in front of the television.

As I made my way down the corridor toward the elevator, I smiled at a few familiar faces peeking out from doorways and shouting down the hall.

My apartment building was filled with college students bustling about to get their summer started. I already knew some had had early celebrations the night before since the walls were unpleasantly thin.

A few feet from my destination, I winced when I nicked a finger on a sharp screw on the inside of the desk. With that particular expression on my face, the elevator doors in front of me slid open. I lodged one foot in front of the door and tried to push the desk into the elevator with my hands.

“You know the limit for this elevator is only 600 pounds.”

I looked up from my struggle with the idiotic piece of furniture to find a guy standing in the corner of the compartment. I stood frozen for a second. Perhaps to absorb his appearance—but more likely, to gather that this guy was just watching me wrestle with a piece of wood.

“Ugh, hellooo,” he waved his hand in front of my face. “I said the weight limit for the elevator is 600 pounds.”

I smiled curtly, heaved my desk the final few inches into the elevator, and pressed the button for the ground floor. During our fifteen-second journey down the six floors to the ground level, I consciously let my eyes roam over my companion. Six feet, blonde hair, sunglasses, clean-shaven, lean build, and a duffel bag slung over his back—a decent looking guy, it would seem.

“Excuse me.” I waited for him to respond. Silence. According to Dina, no response meant I had the right to poke, so I did. He turned to stare down at my five feet, five inch frame. “Yeah, I just want to let you know that I found it rather rude when you didn’t offer to help me as I was trying to get onto the elevator. And, that you felt your presence was more useful stating the elevator weight limit when I’m sure you knew that the weight of me and my desk was nowhere near the amount needed to go over that limit.” I ended with a triumphant smile before the guy impolitely scoffed at me.

“Ugh, hellooo,” I waved my hand in his face. “The elevator has stopped, and the doors are open, so, if you’d like to leave,” I gestured toward the exit.

The nameless guy muttered something about arrogant freshmen and walked out of the elevator, duffel bag in hand. I shrugged to myself and rammed my desk into the lobby.

After getting it out of the elevator, I dragged the desk toward the parking lot and piled it next to my other collegiate possessions. ‘God, did I really need all of this crap?’ Two bookshelves, a desk, a night table, two huge boxes of textbooks, and another two of clothes stood before me in silent confirmation. I raised my arm to wipe the sweat off of my brow when I noticed my dad waving at me from the minivan parked one too many feet away.

I waved back and waited for my dad to walk over. Given the unnaturally large volume of stuff I had stored up in my teeny apartment, I had asked my dad to come by with the minivan. My ancient car couldn’t even begin to harbor all of my things.

To my frustration, my father showed no indication of moving as he continued to wave and smile. I groaned for the umpteenth time that day and plastered a smile on my face as I attempted to drag all of my stuff toward the car. With people walking and running to and from their haphazardly parked cars, I felt like I was stuck in some deranged version of that game Frogger. Only difference being that I had to lug a two-ton desk toward a destination that seemed infinitely out of my reach.

As more perspiration started to accumulate on the nape of my neck, the skin on my joints began to stick. I admitted to myself that this would be the ideal situation in which to utilize one’s boyfriend. Sadly, much to my mother’s chagrin, I was about as single as anyone could be. My last date was to my senior prom in high school while my last and only boyfriend was Kevin Atmen in the tenth grade—due to my mother’s incessant nagging. I was actually glad she wasn’t able to come with dad today. Seeing me alone, pushing and dragging my furniture in the scorching heat, she would have went off on one of her rants.

I summoned what was left of my energy and shoved the satanic piece of carpentry the final few feet to the back of the minivan. “Elsie,” my dad said, “Didn’t you see me waving my arms at you? I was—”

“Yeah dad, I was waving back for as long as I could,” I retorted.

“No, I meant I was waving at you to tell you to leave your desk at the curb. I was going to pull up to you after a few of the cars had left.”

I stood frozen for the second time that day.

“Ready to go?” my father asked from behind me.

I did a once over of my vacant apartment building before I replied. “Yup, looks like I got everything.”

“Dina leave already?”

“She left about an hour ago while we were loading my stuff into the van. She called to let me know that the interstate is jammed up.”

“That was nice of her. Is she sleeping better this year?” I laughed. My dad shrugged and moved toward the door. “Okay, we should get going if you want to make it home by dinner time.

I nodded and stepped out into the hallway for the final time. Door locked, I accompanied my dad to the landlord’s office, returned the key, and made for our minivan. It was more of a mini-haven at that point.

“Your mom’s so excited to see you, Elsie. I bet she even cooked up one of your favorite dishes,” my dad said as he walked toward my ’92 Volvo. I had won the coin toss and air conditioning beckoned me forth.

“Sounds great dad,” I managed to utter before I shut the driver’s side door. My dad started up my car, pulled out, and drove past me toward the T-intersection exit. I eagerly blasted the air conditioning and accelerated to follow him.

I had enjoyed about thirty seconds of bliss when I remembered something. I honked the horn at my father to signal for him to stop.

“What happened?” he shouted from the driver’s side window.

“I forgot to check my mailbox,” I answered while popping out of the car and racing back toward the apartment complex.

“Did you enjoy everything?”

I nodded in reply while chewing. I had just finished my second helping of lasagna—having gained a few pounds already.

“Yeah mom, it was delicious. I swear; college food is dust compared to the dinner you made.” I could have gone into a long anecdote about this one incident involving university dining hall food but I opted not to. I figured my parents wouldn’t appreciate the humor in the story.

“So, what are your plans for the summer honey?”

“Erm, get a job or two and try to help as much as I can with tuition costs,” I ventured.

“Well, at least you’re halfway through it all. Did you and your friends plan anything big for the summer?”

“No, not really. We just figured we’d call each other up and hang out whenever. Just like last year.” I moved to bring my plate to the kitchen.

“Oh right, planning is overrated for today’s youth,” my mom stated from her post at the kitchen sink. “Spontaneity, that’s where all the fun is. I really can’t believe the way the—”

“Mom,” I tried, “do you need help with the dishes?”

“No Elsie, your father and I can manage. We’ve been doing fine all year. I really don’t understand why you won’t come down for the weekends more often. I know you have a busy schedule but couldn’t you make more time for your parents? It’s not like you have a personal relationship to cater to.”

Ouch, mom. Ouch.

I was willing to accept her callous tone with the possibility of menopause, but my dad came to the rescue when he caught my flashing eyes.

“Sophia, I really don’t see the point in bringing up the same topic every time Elsie comes home. Besides, it makes me feel better that I don’t have to worry about her and some guy.”

This time, I waited for my father to look directly at me before rolling my eyes. “Honestly dad, you make me sound like some hormonal teenager willing to go behind your back,” I stated, irritation apparent in my tone as I hopped onto the kitchen island. “You and mom met when you were in your twenties, so I’ve got lots of time…a few years,” I weakly countered.

“We just want you to have the opportunity to experience the same feelings your father and I share for each other,” my mom offered with a smile toward my dad.

Even at the age of twenty, I still didn’t like hearing my parents talking all lovey-dovey. Not wanting to ruin whatever moment they were sharing, I decided to retire to the family room.

Choosing the comfiest armchair, I settled down for a good hour in front of the television. After flipping around for a minute, I opted to catch a sitcom rerun. I leaned back to adjust to a lounging position and exhaled loudly.

When the credits rolled, I switched off the television and considered unpacking. The very thought brought a frown to my face and I decided to put it off until tomorrow.

As far as college was concerned, going to bed at ten o’clock was never an option. Studying to become an architect never made much sense to my mom, but I never really fit her mold of the quintessential, dainty daughter.

Architecture had first interested me in high school. Additionally, I was always handy with a calculator, protractor, and the like. When the time came, I researched, applied, and enrolled. Long story short, I was starting my fourth year of the professional degree program next fall. But at the moment, I was done for the yea; one more Ionic column and I was ready to jump off the nearest roof.

I shuffled into the kitchen to indulge in some late night snacking—college habits die hard.

Although the Rocky Road ice cream looked tempting, I pulled out some frozen grapes from the freezer. There’s something about frozen grapes that makes them much better than the fresh kind.

Popping one into my mouth, I moved to the island and started thumbing through a pile of mail. “Bills, bills, bills, coupons, credit card offer, army pamphlet, and a lavender envelope.” It was no contest as to which letter I opened first. I popped a few more grapes into my mouth and examined the purple envelope. Not knowing what to expect, I ripped open the seal and eagerly began reading the letter.

Her distinctly feminine cursive gave her away immediately. It was Abby.

Abigail Lam and I used to co-coach the local sports club’s girls and boys soccer team in the summer. I hadn’t seen her since she went off to Harvard when I was in tenth grade. We’d kept in touch via e-mail so this letter came as a surprise. Its contents surprised me even more.

Dear Elsie,

I’m really sorry I haven’t seen you in so long. It’s been forever and I think I’m forgetting what you look like! I’m just kidding. But really, I’m starting grad school next year so we have to get four years worth of hanging out into this summer. Hopefully, that won’t be too hard. So, you may be wondering why I’m writing you a letter. I figured that stationary my mother got me before freshman year needed to be put to some good use…

So how are things going with you? Not to sound like your mom, but have you met anyone special this past semester? If not, no worries. Do you plan on heading over to the sports club this summer? I’m sure they could use you; I hear the new summer crew lacks our finesse with the youngsters. Anyway, just because I can’t beat around the bush too much, I’ll come clean. I met a guy sometime ago, early first semester. And before you ask, he is not a Harvard boy. You, and every other friend of mine, have drilled that rule into my head, believe me. I guess I didn’t mention him before because I didn’t think I really needed to? Well, maybe that’s a lie…this may come across as extremely rude and tactless, but I just thought it was best if I didn’t talk about dating and what not. God forbid your mom read the letter before you…I meant well Elsie, you know I love you.

Yeah, I knew. Anyone who tolerated my pathetic impressions of Arnold Schwarzenegger was a friend for life.

Right, so this guy. I really like him. He’s a student at MIT, and we met through a mutual friend—so, his background checks out. Rest assured, no creepy history. He’s in grad school, and… he’s so sweet. Not to get too giddy, but there’s no way anyone couldn’t like him. He’s not completely free of any flaws, but you know what I mean. Great, now I’m getting wordy. I’m in trouble Elsie. He came to visit my family over winter break, and my parents adored him. Can you imagine Mr. and Mrs. Lam openly welcoming him back for another visit?

So, what I really had to tell you is this. My mom joked about it then, but now she seriously approves and consents. I can’t even begin to tell you how weird that is. See, the thing is…he asked me to marry him.

Initially, my eyes nearly shot out of their sockets. Looking back, it actually didn’t seem that strange. From all of my friends, I’d have to say she’s probably the only one mature enough to handle marriage.

All out of grapes, I was itching to call her up and talk to her. I couldn’t believe how excited I was for her.

And I haven’t really given him a reply. He’s being incredibly patient and understanding, and I’m afraid I’m either going to let a good thing pass me by because of my age or make a decision I might regret. I have to say, I’m nearly sold on saying yes, but I just needed to tell you before I answered. You’ve always been a great listener and a great friend; want to help me out here? I want to know if you think I’m ready for this type of thing. And back to where I said I really like him. I lied. I’m certain it’s more than just like…

I miss you tremendously, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m overwhelmed. Take care, Elsie. Okay, onto another sleepless night.

Love,

Abigail

P. S. In all that, I forgot to mention his name. His name’s Neil.

Time for my second double take that night. Neil? I could have sworn I’d heard my mom telling my dad how Mrs. Evers was elated Neil had gotten into MIT. It couldn’t be him, though; the world could not be that small. Could it?

I folded up the letter, dumped my bowl in the sink, and went for my laptop on the kitchen table. I logged onto facebook and pulled up Abby’s profile. In a relationship with Neil Evers (MIT)The world was that small.

For some reason unknown to me and any higher being out there in the universe, a bubble of excitement rose within me. “Awwwww…” I whispered before quickly slapping my mouth shut. With a smile, I closed my laptop and again, fought the urge to call Abby. At nearly eleven o’clock, I figured it was more appropriate to call her the next day. I was still trying to wrap my head around the idea of Neil and Abby when I decided to turn in for the night.

I hummed to myself while climbing the stairs to my room and preparing to get lost in a world of wedding bells, white horses, and things classic romances are made of; I was a girl after all.

And then, the world just got a little smaller as I suddenly thought of Andrew. Oh crap.

Frustration…that’s what the first few chapters are all about. I can’t seem to get into the groove of writing this one out. I’ll keep at it, and hopefully, I won’t lose all will and sanity in the process. Thanks for reading!