High Climber- First Chapter

The bus’s engine became louder as it approached the stop. Once the bus pulled over to let a group of students out, another group of students waiting on the platform moved closer to the vehicle to enter.

Most of the new passengers sat down in the front row of seats. I chose to sit in the back, away from the rest of the crowd.

I put my phone in my pocket and gazed out the window, into the adjacent forest. All of the trees were barren, and only a few leaves fluttered around them. Watching them gently sway back and forth filled me with such onerous contempt. These leaves didn’t have to do something, meet someone, and most importantly, they were under no obligation to be somebody.

After some time, I began to fixate on my reflection in the window. Out of the corner, I saw a man running towards the bus as fast as he could. It was Adrian, my next-door neighbor, and the only person at this university whom I would willingly call my “friend”. As soon as he got on the bus, I waved towards him.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked.

“Ah, grand,” Adrian wheezed. “You?”

“Pretty good,” I replied. I moved my backpack so he could sit down.

“So, Ed, have you started your research yet?”

I gave him a look.

“Haha, I see. I gotta go to a meeting with my advisor, Janeck, before class. How’s your man, Paul?”

“If you must know, Dr. Dickinson is doing fine.”

Adrian laughed. “Y’know, you Americans are so formal. Just call the man ‘Paul.’ In Ireland we have no qualms about calling the professors by their first names.”

“I’m not calling him Paul.”

“Ok then, how about ‘Paulie’?” Adrian suggested.

“No.” I tried to remain serious, but I also couldn’t help smiling.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Adrian teased.

“Ok, have fun.”

After we got off the bus, we started walking towards the history department.

“Jesus, this feckin’ weather,” Adrian complained as he rubbed his hands together.

“Heheh, not used to the climate on the other side of the pond, eh ‘Barbarossa’?” I said, gesturing at my friend’s red beard.

“Good to see the German historian retains a sense of humor.”

“Well, that’s because I’m not actually from Germany.”

We share a laugh.

Soon, we reached the department. I headed for the entrance as Adrian stayed behind to smoke.

“I’ll see ya later,” I called out.

“Yep!” Adrian waved, and then started fumbling with his lighter. I waved back, opened the door, and headed down the stairs towards my office.

Having an office was one of the few things that I could feel proud of. Above my desk was a bookshelf with an assortment of texts. Most of them dealt with Germany and the Nazis, in both English and German to help me keep up my language skills. Some of the other books were about Russia, and the rest were about various other topics that piqued my interest.

I closed my office door and headed towards the grad student lounge. Two of my colleagues were sitting at a table, chatting about their research. I said hello and sat down. Secretly, I wished that they weren’t there.

“How’s the research going?” one of them asked.

“It’s going good,” I told them, lying through my teeth.

We made small talk. Sometime later, one of my colleagues looked at his phone. “I’m gonna go into the classroom,” he said. I followed him in. Soon enough, more people started to arrive. 

Adrian came in sat next to me. “Whadda you suppose is on the agenda tonight?” he asked.

“Dunno, let’s find out.”

I looked around the room at the rest of my cohort. I wanted to have better relationships with each of them, sharing my passion and knowledge with like-minded individuals, and had dreams of collaborating with them on projects that would define a grad student’s tenure.

But those dreams never materialized. My worst fear was not saying the right thing or not using the correct jargon which would expose me as an imposter who did not deserve to be here. It didn’t take long for my fears to mutate, and before I knew it, I found myself worrying about my “uncouth and vulgar” interests outside of academics which would cause my highfalutin colleagues to ostracize me.

Across the table, two people were having a conversation about Edward Said. I knew of Said, and had a vague idea of what Orientalism was about. In front of me was a perfect opportunity to bond with members of my cohort and ask questions in order to better understand one of the giants of academia. But I was petrified. After all, I should have memorized every word of what Said said as well as every other esoteric scholar before I dared to even think about applying to graduate school.

Ten minutes later, the professor walked in and greeted everyone. Moment of truth, I gulped.

After handing out the syllabi, the professor asked us all to share how our “projects” had manifested since the end of the previous semester. Each of us shared our plans. I was all the way at the other end of the table, so I had plenty of time to prepare what I was going to say.

As I listened to my colleagues share their plans, I became more and more dismayed. Of course, I wished them all the best, and each of their topics sounded interesting, but at the same time, I didn’t think that my topic was as rigorous as everyone else’s. How are you going to hold up against THAT? my conscience nagged me.

“And last but certainly not least, Eddie, what's your topic?” the professor inquired. The spotlight was now on me, and I could feel its heat.

“Oh, well, um… so over the break I got the chance to look through the files of this guy who got my property taken by the Nazis and when World War II was over, I tried to get it back. Basically, during the process, I was in contact with a senator and I tried to persuade me to pass various pieces of legislation to help American citizens like himself.”

“That sounds really interesting,” the professor smiled. “Do you know what you’re going to argue?”

I was floored. All this time and I didn’t know how to answer the most important question!

“Uh, not sure yet. There’s multiple avenues I could, um, take with this research,” I said, trying to stave the professor off.

“Well, that’s why you’re here!” the professor said.

I smiled. I know he was trying to encourage me, but on the inside, I was anything but content. Time started to slow down. Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes into hours. I tried to focus on the seminar, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. The only thing I could think about was how I made a huge mistake by choosing to go to graduate school.

You really fucked up this time. You can’t handle this much work. You’re not cut out for this. Look around you. All of these people are way smarter than you. The only reason you got into this program is because they needed to fulfill a quota and you know it. This is the end of the road for you. Look at the professor. You’re NEVER going to be like me. You don’t have the skills required. What the fuck are you going to do after you graduate. You’re not going to find a job. You’re going to be a fucking loser. Forever.

The entire time, I could feel a tingling sensation in the back of my head. The sounds that emanated from the room felt amplified. Trying to sit still became increasingly difficult.

I kept fixating on the professor’s suit and tie. Who am I compared to this man, with my cheap moccasins, and my polo that’s way too short and keeps getting untucked every time I move, and my belt that I had to borrow from my dad because I didn’t have one that looked nice enough? See that man, and his outfit? My conscience teased. He gets to wear that because he fucking earned it. You didn’t earn the right to look nice. You never have, and you never will.

I looked over at the clock. Oh God, there’s still an hour left. All I wanted to do was jump out of my seat and get the hell away from here, as far as possible, and never look back.

Fortunately, though, I would not have to wait too long. “Alright, if nobody has any questions, then I’ll see you next week,” the professor said.

I packed up my belongings as fast as I could and sprang out of my seat. Free at last.

Adrian appeared at my office door.  “Hey, do you wanna go to trivia tonight?”

“Nah, sorry, I got some stuff I need to do,” I replied. Socializing with my cohort was the last thing that I wanted to think about.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” I said.

I brushed past Adrian and bolted for the nearest exit.

Outside, the wind harassed me as I headed for the nearest bus stop. My nerves felt like they were going to pop out of my skin. My head pounded. For a moment, I even thought someone was following me.

I reached the bus stop and sat down on the frigid bench. I tried to relax.

Class is over, you don’t have to worry. You can go home now and sleep.

-No! No you can’t! You have to get working on this research RIGHT THIS FUCKING SECOND! How are you going to manage your classes and your TA responsibilities and your bills and your career and your friends and your family and your wellbeing and-

I had to focus on something. But what? Uhh... the bus! C’mon, c’mon, where is this damn thing?! I stared down the street as if that would make it drive faster.

Several minutes later, I saw the shuttle round the corner. I climbed aboard and sat down in the closest available seat. My nightmare was over, for now.