Lucky in Love: Away from Home, #1

1

Inever wanted to go across country to college, but I didn’t want to stay in my hometown, either. My parents were actually pretty normal people, so they had good times over the years along with some rough patches that they thought they hid from me. Like I said, I thought they were pretty normal. I once read somewhere that eighty-five percent of families are dysfunctional, so I’m thinking chances are good my family is a part of the majority. Dysfunction is evidently normal.

So I didn’t feel compelled to move far away from home and instead settled on a school that was about four-hours away by car. I thought that was a nice buffer zone for me to feel like I was on my own, but if I needed something my parents would be a half a day’s drive away.

We drove up for Freshman orientation the week before classes started with all my new, cool dorm stuff. I had matching sheets, a comforter, pillow cases for two new, king-size pillows and colorful throw pillows for decoration.

I brought my ink blotter from home for my desk and my favorite lamp for late-night studying. I hung a poster of Eric Clapton, the man responsible for my name, above my desk, as a reminder of home. My parents told me, for as long as I can remember, they named me after their favorite song by him and his band, Derek and The Dominos. My mother once secretly confessed at my graduation party after a couple glasses of wine that I was conceived to that song. I definitely didn’t need to know that, but my parents prided themselves on being free spirits, so sometimes divulging too much information came up from time to time in our household.

My parents weren’t hippies exactly, they weren’t old enough to be a part of that generation, but they were huge fans of rock n’ roll from the late sixties and I guess the seventies, too. So, I grew up knowing all about their music and much to my chagrin, really fell in love with that era. If I weren’t a total geek, I could sometimes see myself as a hipster, but in a cool way. More edgy than a hippie and not as judgmental as a hipster, I guess.

So, Eric Clapton came with me to adorn the wall in my dorm room. When I was in high school everyone made fun of my name. It was the normal adolescent kind of crap, asking me if I was a good Lay. But then in senior year, my name had become cool. I swear, the only explanation had to be that Layla was trending somewhere on the internet. I hadn’t changed. I was still geeky; I had a close-knit, handful of friends and was doing just fine with that arrangement, but then Layla became cool and kids outside of my click wanted to invite me to things. I don’t think they wanted to get to know me or even hang out with me, necessarily. It was weird, having a name that suddenly mattered, but I sometimes went along with it because it felt good to not be on the outside looking in for a change.

At least I learned that lesson before college. My name wasn’t cool and then, by some miracle or the magic of social media, it was suddenly very cool. Whatever anyone thought in college about my name wouldn’t matter, I decided, and I hoped all the judgment of high school, or most of it anyway, would inexplicably disappear. Life had to be different outside of that institution. I was counting on it.

I kind of wanted my parents to leave so I could get my half of the room set up. I assumed since I had arrived first, my new roommate wouldn’t mind if I chose my side of the room. They were completely identical, anyway.

My parents offered to stay in a hotel down the road and hang out with me for Freshman orientation.

Honey, my mother said, maybe we should just stay here for the next day or two until you’re ready to be on your own.

I looked at my dad. He smiled. I was ready to go it alone and he knew it.

Gwen, he said, talking to my mother, I think Layla is ready to start her college experience without us hovering over her.

My mother sighed, You’re sure?

Yeah, I said, I’m sure. I’ll be fine, Gwen.

My parents didn’t mind if I called them by their first names. Mom was Gwen and Dad was Jon, without the ‘h’, but he insisted on Jonathan.

Hey, are you Layla? a girl called out from the doorway.

The three of us looked up.

A girl with dreadlocks mixed in with a few braids smiled. She looked artfully disheveled, as though her ragged look was intentional.

I am.

Then I’m in the right place. I’m Karen, your roommate for the next year.

She held out her hand to introduce herself to me and my parents.

I hope you don’t mind, I just picked this side of the room. But I can move if you want.

Karen inspected the space, The sides look identical to me, so I think I’ll be fine.

We watched as she threw her suitcase on the bed and plopped her body down next to it.

Eric Clapton, Karen said as she looked above my desk, "Right on… okay, I get it. Layla… the love triangle between Clapton and George Harrison and that chick. What was her name?"

Pattie Boyd, Jonathan answered.

My parents beamed that someone so young, besides myself, would know about the inspiration behind my name.

I think you’re right, Jonathan, we should leave so the girls can get acquainted.

I wrapped my arms around my mother and gave her a hug. My Dad kissed me on the top of my head and handed me a wad of cash, just in case I needed something. I watched from the doorway as they pressed the button for the elevator while my mother blew kisses at me. And then they were gone.

Your parents seem pretty cool, Karen said when I turned to come back in the room.

Yeah, they’re all right. Can’t complain.

I really wanted to talk about the percentage of people who come from a dysfunctional family, but I thought it was too soon to reveal the geeky, number-girl part of me. Karen would learn that in time. The whole dorm thing would be good for me, but it would take a little time getting used to the idea of shacking up with a stranger for the next ten months of my life. I had to be myself because I wasn’t crafty enough to be anything but that.

Karen, on the other hand, seemed cool as a cucumber. I wondered where her parents were. I wondered if we’d hit it off, considering we already seemed like polar opposites.

So, let’s get out and explore! She exclaimed.

I just want to unpack and make my bed.

Karen sighed. It wouldn’t take long for her to figure out I was a little anal about things.

Okay, and then we’ll go and check out the scene.

I unpacked my suitcases and put everything away in the school-supplied dresser. I threw my sheets on the bed and covered it with my new comforter and pillows. The smell of my bedding reminded me of home. It was the fabric softener my mother had been using ever since I could remember that really did it for me. I wasn’t homesick, by any stretch, and I hoped I’d never feel that way, but the familiar smell was soothing to me. I jumped on my freshly made bed and laid down.

Hey, Karen said, do you want to nap or go meet people?

I wondered if she was naturally a little pushy.

I hear there’s some cool things going on for orientation, so, yeah, I’m into it. I had to test out my bed, that’s all.

I can smell the fabric softener from here, Karen laughed.

I could feel my cheeks turning red, but then Karen pulled out her sheets and comforter and put them up to my nose in a big bundle.

My mom uses the same stuff. It’s totally cool, we’re on our own for the first time. We should have something to remind us of home.

Karen struck me as someone who hadn’t lived at home for quite some time. She seemed so confident and independent. She must have seen the inquisitive look on my face….

I love my mother, Layla, I just… well, we just have a different relationship. It’s less normal, I guess you could say.

From what I’ve read, eighty-five percent of families are dysfunctional, I said, trying to be supportive of her less than normal relationship with her mother. And I couldn’t help myself, that statistic had been burning a hole in my brain since I first came across it… it needed to be shared.

Karen looked at me as though I should have shoved my foot straight into my mouth.

We’re not dysfunctional, I don’t think, we’re just not normal. She was sixteen when she had me. My father, who was also sixteen at the time, tried to do the right thing, but it didn’t work out. So, Mom worked her ass off, went to college, used her mother as a babysitter… which is another long story… and here I am. I just turned eighteen and my mother just turned thirty-four. I’d say we’re more like friends, but I don’t think she’d agree.

Wow, my parents were in their early thirties when they had me. I’m sure your mother feels more like a friend. It must have been cool growing up like that.

Karen motioned for me to get up. We continued our conversation down the elevator and across campus toward the student union where all the orientation activities were supposed to be taking place.

I was a little embarrassed by my mother for a long time, especially through middle school. By the time high school came around, I sort of didn’t care anymore and she had worked her way up the company ladder until she became CEO of a small record label, so everyone thought she was the cool mom. I’m proud of her, though, she’s really successful. She definitely beat the odds.

And your grandmother? I asked, not wanting to seem nosey, but it was entirely different from my upbringing. My parents were happily married and it was all I ever knew.

Well, now that her daughter has money to throw around, she’s living the good life. She just turned sixty and has a nice little condo on the beach in Jersey. She’s a riot. Hey, we should go there sometime. She’s gone for like, two months or something, this fall.

It was hard to believe Karen’s grandmother was only a few years older than my parents, but it was even harder to believe I could just go stay in a condo on the Jersey Shore if I felt like it.

You mean for a weekend?

Well, yeah, we have classes during the week.

I think I might have judged Karen a little. As though her wild hair and clothes, and having a young mother who worked in the music industry would make her irresponsible. Of course, she meant we’d go there for the weekend.

Where is your mother and grandmother, anyway? Didn’t they come up here to drop you off? I asked, changing the subject.

Karen shook her head, Maybe that’s where the dysfunction you mentioned comes in. My mother needed to stay in the city to work and my grandmother just left on a European vacation. I hitched a ride up here with some friends.

Well, I said, I was glad to have one last little hurrah with my parents, but I’m also glad they didn’t stick around, if that’s any consolation.

Awwww, Karen said as she put her arm over my shoulder, that’s so sweet, but I’m kinda used to my mother getting tied up at work and my grandmother, she deserves some free time. She helped raise me, so I think she needs a much-needed break.

Karen laughed. It was genuine. She seemed totally comfortable in her own skin. I admired her already.

What’s your mother’s name? I asked, certain I’d meet her one of these days.

Susan, but everyone calls her Susie. And her mother, my grandmother, is Evelyn, but we all call her Evie, or Gram. She’s really cool.

Well, I would think having a mother in the music industry couldn’t be anything other than cool.

Karen chuckled, Yeah, Susie’s cool, but I was talking about my grandmother. When I’m feeling low, it’s Grammie who makes everything all right.

I couldn’t decide if Karen was seriously calling her grandmother Grammie or if she was just messing with me. So, I decided not to say anything. If she were serious, I’d look like an ass. And if she were joking….

I know we don’t know each other yet, Layla, but I just wanted to get it out of the way that I do, in fact, refer to my grandmother as Grammie.

I breathed a sigh of relief, Well, I’m sure as we get to know each other they’ll be plenty of things about me that will come out.

You owe me one, Karen said, As soon as you can think of a vulnerability or something kind of embarrassing, tell me. We’ll pinkie swear and put it in the vault.

I could think of a lot of things about myself to tell Karen, but at the moment, being put on the spot, I didn’t know what to confess first.

I have a feeling you’ll figure it out soon enough. I’m incredibly transparent.

2

The lawn in front of the student union was filled with people who looked kind of relaxed and awkward at the same time. It made sense; the scene was new to all of us and we weren’t yet acclimated to the place. Some jocks were on the far part of the lawn playing Frisbee away from the crowd. I can always tell a jock from a mile away, it’s as though they can smell one another out and then they’re immediately inseparable. And they never seem awkward.

Hey, I bet those Frisbee guys are on the football team, they’ve probably been here all summer practicing, Karen said as she pointed in their direction.

Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right. I was wondering why they seemed more at home.

It was weird how Karen read my mind, so I added, It’s weird, you just read my mind.

You owe me a beer, she responded.

I made a mental note to say that to her the next time we read one another’s thoughts.

I wonder where we could find one.

Not here, but I think I might know….

Karen stopped and looked around, Okay, I see some musicians.

But what about all the information tables and organizations we can join. Don’t you want to look?

I wanted to tell Karen the exact number of organizations, clubs, sports and sororities there were on campus, and I wanted to tell her about the ones I was interested in. But as I stood at the crossroads of my first adult decision—be responsible or go find fun—I looked up and saw Karen hurrying toward the stage.

It was in that moment I knew I was heading down a much darker path than I had envisioned for myself, but I wanted to do something I had never done before—approach a bunch of musicians to see if they had an extra beer to spare.

By the time I caught up with Karen she was already introducing herself to each of the guys. I saw them nodding and smiling as I approached. There were four guys—a lead singer who also played guitar, a rhythm guitarist, a bass player and a drummer.

Hi, I said, smiling, not wanting to seem awkward or overly excited, I’m Layla.

"What’ll you do if you get lonely, nobody waiting by your side," one of the guys sang a verse from the Layla lyrics.

He puffed on his cigarette and smiled.

Like she’s never heard that before, dude, the lead singer said.

I actually had heard it only a couple of times from people under the age of thirty. Most of my peers weren’t all that into Clapton. I tried to remember all their names. The lead singer was Dave, that was easy. Kyle was really cute and introduced himself as the renaissance man in the band, singing, writing, playing both lead and rhythm guitar. Jeff played bass, and the drummer told me