Rubicon

I don’t want to go. I’m expecting a call from my girlfriend, and there’s homework I should be doing.

“It’s Saturday night. Have you always been like this?”

Like what?

“Such a worrier. You sound like my dad.”

Probably. But I still don’t think we should go.

“Well I’m going and you can stay here if you want to.”

I’m not letting you go alone.

“Then grab your keys and follow me.”

We left the dorm and slowly descended the still unfamiliar campus, made even more alien by the darkness of the night around us. Light from the city below us began to glow with greater intensity as we traveled, although my fear only became heightened as we emerged from the dark. Eventually we were passing shops and restaurants, all closed and uninviting in the orange glimmer of Bethlehem’s street lamps. I glanced behind us every minute or so as we walked, scanning the street for anyone nearby.

“You’re really uncomfortable around here, aren’t you?”

I’ve heard it’s not that safe in the city.

“How much time have you spent in cities?”

I’ve visited Manhattan and Philly a couple times.

“Never mind. Just keep going, I can see the bridge.”

The underpass leading to the bridge stairs was covered in countless layers of graffiti. At least a dozen indiscernible names and symbols tainted each cement slab. I was relieved to reach the comparably refreshing air of the bridge surface when we emerged from the top of the staircase.

We walked in silence across the bridge, strolling along the thin paved line between rushing traffic and the distant sound of slowly flowing water. The city lights illuminated the river’s surface- we must have been about thirty feet up. The deep blackness beneath the reflected orange dots gave no indication of how deep the river went. She responded to my unspoken question.

“I heard the river’s only two feet deep in the summer.”

Which would make a jump from this bridge suicidal, theoretically. Not exactly the guaranteed results of the Cornell cliffs, but handy to know.

We reached the opposite side of the bridge and crossed the road. She darted into the trees on the far side and was quickly lost from sight.

“Almost there! Come on!”

I followed her into the sticky wetness of the September night. Thorns grazed my feet and calves as spider webs collapsed around my face. A buzzing in my ear distracted me from walking and I nearly tripped on an exposed tree root.

It occurred to me as we went that the forest was sloping upward at a fairly steep angle. After a minute or so I realized we’d climbed at least a story. The exertion of the act was confirmed as I felt sweat begin to slide down my temples.

This isn’t exactly what I had planned for my Saturday night.

Where are we going?

“The best view in town.”

I saw her silhouette emerge from the damp pine smell and quickly dash left. I followed in time to see her round the side of a building.

When I caught up to her I was greeted by an open stone plaza with a concrete ledge at the far end. The only light supplied to the place was moonlight, and a warm breeze floated on the air. She was standing on the ledge facing back to where we came from, over the bridge.

“Get up here and take a look.”

I joined her on the ledge and peered out, regretting my lack of glasses.

Before us was the entirety of the mountain. At the base was the city, beaming that artificial pumpkin glow that turns the sky a dark salmon and blocks out the stars. Above the city were the hallowed halls of the university, some buildings dotted with yellow windows where maintenance men were still working. Climbing higher still were the dorms, more fully aglow in the life and revelry of the first weekend of the semester. Tree-shaped blackness outlined the top slope of the mountain against the night sky.

From this side, you could actually see the stars.

“We have four years here. There’s so much we’re going to do before we leave.”

It’s going to be gone before we know what happened.

“Don’t talk like that. We’ve been here for a week and already it feels like home. We can finally make decisions here, learn real things here, figure out who we are here!”

Feels like home, maybe to you. I’m not sure about this place yet.

“You just need to relax, go with the flow! Have some fun.”

There’s homework I should be doing.

“Keep that attitude and you’re going to hate it here.”

…

It is a pretty beautiful view.

“I know … I came here during the day when my parents and I visited and I always wanted to come back at night. Do you think it was worth the walk now?”

It was.

What were you saying about figuring stuff out?

“Well, that’s the thing that’s so cool. We can be whoever or whatever we want. Starting now. No one knows who we were or where we came from. We can choose … everything.”

I looked at the stars.

Really?

“Yep.”

And we sat and felt the breeze and gazed out over the river at our new home.