Page 22 - PINE CREST 2000

Pine Crest Dorm

I have just showered inches away from a naked male body —
not mine — enveloped in soap suds. I encase myself in one of the
tiny white towels given to us all — a badge of courage on day one —
and step into the hall. It is 9:55 p.m., the dawn of a new day.
In my room, I rummage frantically through three weeks
worth of dirty laundry, struggling valiantly against the cold reality
that clothes don’t just become clean with time. As a rancid T-shirt
conforms to my torso, I re-enter the hallway. I intend to mingle but
a pulsating emptiness instinctively guides my every move. At least
fifteen boys pass me — nod, slap my rear. But I don’t see them, I
don’t respond. No offense is taken; they see the desperation in my
eye — they’ve beent there too. I see only a Papa John’s box — a
Parthenon of possibility — resting tantalizingly atop a trash can thirty
feet down the hall. In an instant I’m there. One half a piece of
cheese, three half-bitten crusts. Jubilation! I shall not go hungry this
night.
The place we dormies call home operates by a different set of
rules from the outside world. Shower with naked men or go very
dirty; eat out of trash cans or go very hungry; make your bed each
morning to go very grounded.
We are uncouth, unkempt, brusque, and delirious in our fatigue. Tomorrow, I will take two tests, having
studied for neither. In one of the thirty-two rooms of our palace, another will take three tests — studied for none.
The clock strikes one.
I scurry to the TV lounge - join forces with the others seeking empathy. Sportscenter blares, six laps
hold open, but unused, texts. In this most tranquil of hours, as the pampered day student, with remnats of lus­
cious meats and pastries fresh upon his tongue, has been sleeping soundly for hours upon his queen sized bed, we
now hit our strides. Teachers, cute girls, cafeteria food -the elements that control our lives - fall victim to the
vulgarities that only sexually frustrated pubescent males with far too much work and not nearly enough will
power can express. Tonight, we come to the same conclusion as when we spoke last night — we should have
gotten an off campus apartment. But here in our adolescent bitterness, we catch glimpses of each other and we
are linked as one — take solace in the knowledge that we are lying to ourselves. We would not trade our
parentless plights for a suite at the Ritz.
Stitches of a cloth, seeds of a fruit, we have fostered a sense of interdependenc. Tomorrow at school, I’ll
wink an eye, point a finger from down a hall, all in wordless reassurance that I know my brothers’ problems, and
they mine. No gated community in Boca could ever give us that security.
Most importantly, we wake up later than any day student ever could. It is this last thought that sends me
off into a deep sleep, my work still unfinished. Four hours and eleven snooze button punches later, I stumble out
of bed - hungry, but late for breakfast; exhausted, but blinded by the sun; craving my mother, but hundreds of
miles from her. I stumble into the shower toward yet another naked soap-sudded body. Yes, we dormies have
each other.
As I exit the dorm, my mind racing to designate fifteen minutes study, I turn and look up. My eyes meet
the gazes of five classes of graduated dormies, all smiling proudly from photographs. “We showered with each
other, too," their eyes tell me. Suddenly I am no longer tired. As I step out of the dorm, I realize that I will soon
be exiting for my last time. However, I know that what I have gained here can never be left behind. I am forever
a dormie.

- Dovi Sacks

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