Stone Angels by Michael Hartigan

Author:Michael Hartigan [Hartigan, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC019000FICTION / Literary
ISBN: 9781939166791
Publisher: Merrimack Media
Published: 2015-08-15T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

The Providence weather is something of a mystery, for those who’ve never lived there. Some liken it to Seattle, some to London. Others see similarities with every other New England seaside community.

But in Rhode Island, Mother Nature is more fickle. She is at any time every season, every scenario, everything but reliable. She has good days and bad; hot days and cold; wet days and dry; sometimes all of it at once. And yet she refuses to allow any pattern to emerge so that those poor souls held captive to her mood swings might find comfort in consistency.

In the Rorschach test that is the United States, Mother Nature picked Maine to be snowy because it looks like a mitten. She made Texas hot because it sort of resembles a star. But what is Rhode Island? It is the one, tiny inkblot she had no answer for.

To diagnose her psychosis as manic would be to forget the opposite and just as frequent depression. Thunderstorms in the morning followed by warm, clear breeze at midday. She’d promise snow and give nothing more than a single gray cloud. When all seemed calm, a three-day deluge would wash away any progress.

And so the tiny smudge that is Rhode Island weathers Mother Nature’s tantrums like any good, caring family member would, longing for those surprise days when the sun shines and the mood is calm. And when those days do arrive, they pray for some semblance of equilibrium.

So was my introduction to life in Providence. A September fog crept in off the ocean and welcomed the start of classes with an eerie lack of color. The rain popped in for a day or two but by Halloween we were trick-or-treating at the local bars in short sleeves. The next day a snow flurry fell but by week’s end the Quad buzzed with active coeds soaking in a late-autumn heat wave.

The hectic and disordered weather mimicked the atmosphere in our dorm room.

As I promised Lindsey, I ignored Duncan’s first-night fiasco and attributed it to the alcohol. But it made me aware and soon after I recognized splashes of similar behavior. Like the weather, no immediate pattern emerged but slowly his insults and backstabbing gossip grew more frequent. One night he’d invite me out with his new friends only to make me the butt of every joke. The next day he’d apologize and buy me lunch.

It was as if, like Mother Nature with Rhode Island, he didn’t know what to do with me. Should he be warm and kind or frigid and distant? Should he include me or disregard me?

Eventually I gave up. I made up excuses to avoid Duncan. I knew his friends were not my friends.

A high-pressure situation was forming.

Late November proved to be one of Providence’s great meteorological conundrums. Students were unsure whether to play Frisbee or make snow angels. Ben and I half expected Skirt Day—the first warm spring day when college girls, who have been itching under wool sweaters for three months, break open their closets and wear their shortest skirts—to happen in the fall.

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