New Chapter

“We’ve arrived!” my dad exclaimed as his eyes sparkled with wonder, passing by the square, white house. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he looked out the passenger window. He steered the driving wheel right, and we stopped on a narrow but organized driveway.

My mom squeezed my hand tightly as she grinned. “We’re finally here!” Her excitement shone through her lips, providing reassurance. We stepped out, breathing in the fresh air of my life’s new chapter.

Ever since I received the letter of admission back home in Shanghai, I had been waiting for this moment– to stand in front of my dorm in the best high school in America. Now that I was here, it almost felt unreal. The dorm was the shape of a cube with ridges running from top to bottom on every side. White paint covered the entire house, making it look like a fresh canvas, ready for the colors of new experiences. After standing still for a couple of seconds to take in the reality of our arrival, my dad said, “Looks pretty nice. Let’s get to work.” 

One by one, my parents and I struggled as we each lifted a piece of luggage and rolled it towards the dorm entrance. On the way, I saw that although my parents had big grins on their faces, there was a blankness in their eyes—blankness that I did not understand at the time.

When my parents pulled open the heavy doors of the dorm, I flinched at the sight of the common room with saggy, stained couches straight out of a horror movie and crusty side tables begging to be cleaned. On the floor were crumbs, accompanied by bean bags, dusty and discolored. As my parents and I ascended the stairs, our bodies and luggage repeatedly bumped against each side of the stairwell—it was as if the walls were purposefully constricting, attempting to prevent our entry. We soon arrived in front of my room. Praying that I got a good one, I inserted and twisted the key. Pulling the white door open, I saw a low ceiling, along with cracked and slanted walls. The conditions were abysmal, but I affirmed to my parents that everything was fine. After all, I had made this choice.

As my parents and I piled my luggage into the small room, I finally felt it. Foreignness. These objects did not belong here– they belonged in my room back in Shanghai with straight walls, a high ceiling, and my possessions. However, it was too late to change anything. Keeping myself busy, I pulled on the drawer in an attempt to put my clothes inside. To my surprise, the drawers resisted. Everything about this place seemed to say, “Go back to your home. You don’t belong here.” I pulled harder, and the drawer finally conceded with a squeaking cry.

After reluctantly filling the drawers with clothes, we needed to set up my bed. Taking out the sheets we brought from home, I felt a sense of familiarity. However, the moment we compared the sheets with the mattress, my mom said, with her hands dangling awkwardly, “I think it’s too big.”

“Ah, I think we only brought sheets of one size,” my dad replied while he unconsciously adjusted his glasses.

“It’s okay,” I said calmly, attempting not to stress my parents out. I walked toward the bed and took a closer look at the sheets. “It’s not that big of a difference. I’m sure it’s going to be fine.”

My heart dropped when I lay on the bed to try it out. It was hard in an unusual way. While my tailbone hurt from lying on the bed, my spine sank into the mattress without any support. The smooth texture of the mattress exaggerated the effect of the oversized sheets, making it easily slide back and forth. Every time I changed my position, the sheets wrinkled beneath me. Even though I didn’t like it, I said with a smile, “The bed feels very comfy.”

“Great!” my dad responded, propping both his thumbs up. My mom didn’t seem as convinced; she squinted her eyes at the mattress without speaking, as if she could read my thoughts.

My parents and I had rented an apartment in Boston before the start of school, and I had stopped at a store on our way up to the school to buy a carpet. After making my bed, we decided to lay the carpet down. As each of us took a side of the carpet, I accidentally stepped on my mom’s dress. “(Redacted)!” my mom shouted as her eyes widened to stare at me with an angry vigor, the emptiness in them expanding. I stumbled back quickly, shocked at the intensity of her stare. I had never seen my mom get so mad over such a trivial matter. 

“I’m sorry, mom,” I murmured, hunching over a bit, not daring to raise my voice. She did not reply. 

Soon, my parents and I managed to set up my room to the best of our abilities and unpack everything from my luggage. It was ultimately time for them to leave. I walked them down the stairs, through the messy common room, and out the heavy doors of the dorm. Nobody spoke. We stood back on the driveway in front of the dorm.

“Well, the time has finally come,” my dad said with an unnaturally deep voice that quivered a bit as he came in for a hug, “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Okay!” I replied with a hollow voice. His hug was strong, and I felt a bit out of breath. I then turned and looked at my mom, surprised to see her facing away from us. When she turned around, I noticed redness on her nose and eyes. I walked toward her for a hug.

“I love you,” she shakily uttered as I embraced her in a hug. Tears rolled down her eyes, forming a damp spot on my T-shirt. 

“I love you too, mom,” I said. Without understanding the reason, tears also fell from my eyes. I kissed my mom on the cheeks and walked away, wiping my tears with the sleeve of my T-shirt. 

I stood still as I watched my parents open the doors to the car and get in. I watched the car roll away over the blacktop into the grand roads of another world. As I watched the tail lights of the car disappear, I felt lonely. Loneliness I have never felt before.

For the first time, I opened the heavy doors of my dorm alone, and I walked up the narrow, shaky stairs alone and entered the small room alone. I walked to my bed and tucked myself in. I could not stop tears from rolling down my cheeks. I did not like the big sheets that slid around the mattress. I did not like the height of the bed, which made me feel insecure. I did not like the hard mattress that hurt my tailbone. I did not like the way I was alone. I did not like how I did not seem to belong.

However, it was my choice to come here, my choice to be alone in this room. I stared into the darkness, and, in the darkness, I felt warm tears rolling down my face. I finally understood the blankness in my parents’ eyes. Indeed, I had arrived.

Ethan Wong