"As Fate Would Have It": Chapter 1

So you don’t stand out. And you don’t fit in.

Isn’t it hard, standing in the rain … You’re on the verge of going crazy, and your heart’s in pain

= Friday 03 March 2000 =

"You know I’d rather not do this, Hayley." Laurel Benkowski flopped back on her bed, watching her busybody roommate attempt to pack more clothes than both of them would need for their spring break trip.

"Don’t give me that routine," the perky blonde reprimanded from inside her closet. "You know as well as I do that you truly are a Hanson fan, and that you want to go to this concert." She emerged with yet another armload of clothes.

"But —"

Hayley cut her off. "No buts. I’ve seen you over there in your own little world, writing down their music. After living with you for a semester and a half, I’ve learned more about reading music than you would think, so don’t even tell me it’s something else." She dropped the clothes into her already overflowing suitcase.

"Can’t a person just appreciate good craftsmanship of a song?"

"A person can, but you can’t." Hayley picked up an unlabeled sheaf of staved pages, on which Laurel had written out the accompaniment to ‘More Than Anything’ after having played it by ear, and waved the sheet music in her roommate’s face. "Look at the margins of this — these are not your usual random composing doodles. They’re the graffiti of a woman in love." She emphasized this last statement with an overly exaggerated sighing faint and a perfectly dropped pratfall.

Laurel rolled her eyes. "I was just about to ask if you’d ever considered being a psychologist, but forget that. You’re already a natural actress." The two girls were sophomores at New York City’s University of the Arts. Laurel was a Music major, and Hayley Mitchell a Theater Arts major. Sighing, she pulled a pillow over her face, while Hayley pulled herself off the floor and returned the sheet music to its place on Laurel’s desk.

"And I know what argument you’re going to give me next, Laurel. You can’t be too old for this; you’re only a year older than Ike. And may I remind you that I am older than you are, and I’m going."

"Only seven and a half months older."

"I’m still older." Hayley’s voice had taken on a whiny bickering tone.

"Hayley, you’re impossible." Even with the pillow muffling her words, Laurel’s message was clear. If she went on this trip, it would be with Hayley dragging her, kicking and screaming all the way.

Her roommate only grinned. "I know. Now help me pack. We won’t have time to do it before we have to leave for the airport tomorrow. And we’re going to be in Oklahoma for a week, so you better prepare for a lot of good times. They’re all out there, just waiting to be had."

The only response was a groan of aggravation, and Laurel’s pillow sailing across the room to squarely hit its target. "Fine. But I don’t have to like it."

"Come on," Hayley taunted as she threw Laurel’s pillow back to her, "you know you’ll have a blast once you get into the spirit of it. Where’s your sense of adventure?"

"Definitely not in the middle of nowhere." Despite her reluctant protests, Laurel got up and began to systematically root through her clothes. If only Hayley really knew why she was so against going to this concert in Hanson’s hometown. Laurel didn’t want to get that near to the truth, open up wounds which she had fought so hard to heal. The battle was one she still waged against herself after all this time; Laurel knew that the minute she looked him in the eye, it would all come back...

From the other side of the room, Hayley giggled at the unintentional pun. "You asked for it by name." Turning on the stereo, she selected the CD mode and pressed the play button. Moments later, the voices of the three blonde then-adolescents filled the room.

"If you’re going to make me listen to that ancient album, the least you could do is play a song I like." Laurel grabbed the remote from the desk beside her and shuffled through the tracks until she landed at the song that fit her more than anyone could tell. "Isn’t it weird. Isn’t it strange. / Even though we’re just two strangers on this runaway train / We’re both trying to find a place in the sun / We’ve lived in the shadows, but doesn’t everyone / Isn’t it strange how we all feel a little bit weird sometimes…"

"Desmond Child. Now there’s a man who knows how to write a song."

"Please, Laur. You know he was only a quarter of the writing team on that song."

Laurel cringed at the intentional dig of Hayley’s use of her most greatly detested nickname. "Shut up. And you know how much I hate being called ‘Laur’."

"Sorry. Geez, what got under your skin?" Hayley continued to fight what was obviously a losing battle with her overstuffed suitcase.

"It’s not a matter of ‘what’," Laurel murmured under her breath, "it’s a matter of ‘who.’ And we’re hearing him now."

"Isn’t it hard, standing in the rain. / You’re on the verge of going crazy, and your heart’s in pain / No one can hear though you’re screaming so loud / You feel all alone in a faceless crowd…" The song continued, and Laurel contemplated, as she did every time she heard this song, how the Hansons could have known her life story and put it into so eloquent a song. Well, there was him…No. Laurel shook her head, clearing the thought from her consciousness. He wasn’t real; she’d known that for more than a year. It’s long past time you stop thinking of him as if he really existed, Laurel told herself. Then she argued back, But he is real. You’re hearing his voice right now. But that’s not the person you thought you knew. "He’s not real."

"What?" Hayley stopped wrestling with the zipper of her bag when she heard Laurel’s voice.

"Nothing."

"Oh, okay."

Thankful that Hayley would be content to leave it at that and not press for details or observe her roommate’s sudden odd behavior, Laurel allowed her mind to wander on the topic some more. Illusory or not, he had been both the best thing and worst thing to happen to her. She had never loved anyone as much as she had loved him, nor did she think she ever would love anyone that much again. "Sitting on the side. Waiting for a sign. Hoping that my luck will change. / Reaching for a hand that will understand, someone who feels the same…" Laurel couldn’t count how many times she had felt that way exactly; waiting for some indication that he felt half as strongly as she did. Then, when she allowed herself to think rationally and let the truth seep into her consciousness, she began to wonder if there was a chance that it might still be true.

In the past two years, the cliché "too good to be true" had developed a whole new meaning for Laurel. She had found someone who was literally too good to be true, and she knew it. Yet she had been grudging to give in to reason, out of selfishness. She had found the love of a lifetime, even if it was with someone who didn’t really exist, at least not as she knew him, and Laurel was not about to give it up. But she knew she had to, because deep down, she knew that by holding on, the only person she was hurting was herself.

These things and feelings Laurel kept locked within herself, and shared with no one. She felt foolish for being deceived, irrational for keeping it going, and lonely without the love she'd had but found to be nonexistent. She shouldered the burden alone, standing in the rain of the tears her heart poured out over a loss of something it had never truly had. Screaming and reaching out would do no good; there was no one to answer or reach out to her. No one to understand…