"Just drive around there folks, and they'll help you out."
I'm a bit confused - we are still relatively distant from her Residence. But we do it, we drive through the parking lot towards the dozen or more colourfully clad students. "Oh look there's a welcoming committee, isn't that..."
Clapping, stomping and whooping, these hoodlums swarm our Honda Civic.
"FIRST YEARS OUT OF THE CAR, FIRST-YEARS-OUT-OF-THE-CAR!! FIRST YEARS OUT OF THE CAR, FIRST-YEARS-OUT-OF-THE-CAR!!"
"What's going on?!?" asks Rissa.
"They are apparently encouraging you to leave the car," David posits.
Our "Welcoming Committee" comes closer, faces at the window, yelling to a decibel level that, moments before, would have seemed impossible.
"FIRST YEARS OUT OF THE CAR, FIRST-YEARS-OUT-OF-THE-CAR!! FIRST YEARS OUT OF THE CAR, FIRST-YEARS-OUT-OF-THE-CAR!!"
"Oh, crap! Crap, I guess I'd better get out!" Rissa departs the vehicle.
"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" The students explode with joy.
"I've got her!" says a young man in face paint and a dozen bandannas wrapped around his limbs. "You just drive up there and the guy in the vest will tell you when it's safe to go."
"When it's safe to go?"
"What's her name?" asks another student.
"Rissa..."
"RISSA!!" she yells as she checks off the name.
"RISSA!!!!!" Everyone else yells.
A sharpie scrawls onto a pre-printed, university-issue, green paper. "Here's her room number, you drive up to the Res. We've got your daughter." She hands us the piece of paper "Don't lose it or you'll never know where she is." She laughs.
They've got our daughter? What the fuck just happened here?
We drive up to the guy in the vest.
"Is everything..."
"You just drive up there and we'll take care of everything." He smiles reassuringly.
"So she's just..."
"He's got her. She'll get there."
O...kay. We drive towards the Res.
"RIGHT THROUGH HERE FOLKS! RIGHT THROUGH HERE!!" Music is blaring, new packs, larger packs, of university students bounce up and down in excitement.
"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! WHAT'S THE NUMBER?!? WHAT'S THE NUMBER?!?"
We show them the green paper.
"IS IT OKAY IF WE UNLOAD YOUR CAR?" a spokesperson yells.
"Uh... yeah, yeah... sure... it's okay."
"POP THE TRUNK!!! ALL RIGHT... LET'S GOOOOOOOOO!!!"
(Perhaps now is a good time to mention that I was recently diagnosed with Endolymphatic Hydrops - an inner ear disorder that affects the fluid in the ear canals. Some of the symptoms make me super sensitive to sound, which, in turn, makes me dizzy and nauseated. Usually this isn't an issue outside, unless it's incredibly loud.)
I stagger out of the Civic. So much yelling. Music SO loud. I grasp blindly for anything to help me regain my balance - finally finding the car's side mirror.
Equilibrium regained... now I can help with the... I do a cartoon double-take to the back of the car. Everything's gone. All Rissa's stuff is GONE - two shopping carts are disappearing into the Res. They took my daughter and now they've taken all her stuff! I start to hyperventilate.
David is commends everyone on their organization and energy. I can't breathe.
"You guys are fantastic!! Can we get a picture?"
A picture? He wants a picture of these people?!?
"ALL RIGHT! YOU FOLKS CAN HEAD OUT NOW."
Head OUT? But we haven't... I haven't...
"PARKING LOT IS LOCATED HERE." The university-issue paper with Rissa's room number is turned over and we are shown a map to parking. "THIS ACTS AS YOUR PARKING PASS. YOU GO PARK NOW!"
We get back in the car. David says, "Wow - that was amazing! They are like a well-oiled..." He looks at my face. "Love...?"
Tears... streaming down my cheeks, I shake my head. "I'm just going to..." I reach into my purse for my emergency ear plugs. "I'm just going to put these in."
We drive away from the Res. I have no idea where Rissa is. I have no idea where her stuff is. I succumb to a few moments of hiccupping sobs before I get my shit together. Eventually, I blow out a calming breath.
"You okay?"
I nod. "They took her. Then they took her stuff. We were car-jacked."
"Oh love..."
"No, it's okay," I say. "It really is okay. It's amazing. You're right they ARE a well-oiled machine. It's wonderful for all these kids to have such excitement, such joy when they arrive at school. I was just... I was... unprepared for it, is all."
***
The week leading up to this day provides me with the opportunity to do the best acting I've ever done in my life. She's so excited to get going - every day is a new thing that she's thrilled to talk about. All her Frosh Week activities, the messages on her chat groups... each thing has a new superlative outdoing the one before it. She practically vibrates with anticipation. I respond positively to everything.
"It's so great that you're so excited for this!" I feel like I'm going to vomit. "Really? They'll have a carnival? That's great!!" I'm this much closer to death. "Yes, this is going to be the BEST THING EVER. Yay!!" My heart... my heart is... breaking.
***
I manage to stop the tears before we exit the car. Now in a full-fledged hydrops attack, I clutch David's arm so that I don't fall off the world as we walk back to the Res. I watch as other shell-shocked parents listen to the cheers and chanting and see their child's belongings disappear into the Res. We get directed to her floor and are greeted in the stairwell by another dozen excited students, this time chanting:
"PARENTS ON THE MOVE! PARENTS ON THE MOVE!!"
They're clapping and hooting. David has one arm and I'm clinging to the banister with my left hand; even with the earplugs firmly inserted, I'm so dizzy I feel like I could double for Sandy and Danny in the Shake Shack.
As we descend those stairs, the kids eventually notice that this particular parent is not so much "on the move," but instead, looks like she's going to keel over... or vomit... or both. They tone it down. I smile/grimace at them in thanks.
We get to Rissa's dorm, and knock politely. She bounds to the door Tigger-like, grabbing us both in a huge hug. And her smile? It could light up the galaxy. "HI GUYS!!!" She immediately goes back to unpacking her clothes. "I think I'm going to need more hangers. Can we get more hangers? I thought I'd counted them all, but somehow I think I don't have enough."
I rest on her bed and watch for a moment. I watch this person who grew in my body. This person I snuggled with, even last night, as we watched a movie together. This person I love so much, that our impending departure at the end of the day is already making me feel like my organs will liquify. I feel the panic creep into my chest and I close my eyes for a moment to regain my equilibrium.
And then I start helping her unpack.
