That Eerie Feeling
As we stood there in the grocery store
parking lot, I was
convinced that Mrs. Ballantyne must know something about my Jones
scholarship disappointment. This woman had a
direct pipeline to the Headmaster and everyone else at St. John's.
I was still convinced Mrs. Ballantyne
had surely used her personal relationship with Mr. Salls to swing that scholarship to Katina. I was sure of
it.
One
part of me was screaming for an explanation. But I couldn't deny
another part of me was thrilled to be talking to this fascinating woman. There I stood, bouncing back and forth
between gratitude and bitterness.
Something else was
bothering me too.
What bizarre twist of fate had
presented the woman who was directly involved in my scholarship problem before
my eyes?
And what twist of fate had
presented the woman who had been my idol at Saint John's for nine years
here before my eyes?
When I first saw Mrs.
Ballantyne at the store, I was certain she had come to seek me out.
Then I decided I was wrong. Her appearance was a complete
accident. Okay, I could accept that. What I could not accept
was that the most important woman at Saint John's had come out of
nowhere to engage me in this remarkable conversation. This chance
meeting was so remarkable that it felt more like a fairy tale than
reality. No one believes in fairy tales.
Why had we not met before?
Considering all the times our paths had crossed over the years, the law
of averages practically guaranteed that some connection should have been made.
I recalled all those times I had spent studying Mrs.
Ballantyne from across the room in the school's Reception area.
In the past nine years, our paths had crossed at Saint John's at
least three times a week and maybe more. In all that time not one
remarkable incident had ever occurred. Each crossing was the same.
I would see her from afar, stop to watch her in action and she would
never notice me.
Assuming a school year of 40 weeks per
year, over a nine year span I estimate these brief moments of long distance hero worship had
taken place over a thousand times.
Not
once had we spoken.
In fact, only
once had we even come close.
One day in the Ninth grade I was
talking to Katina in the hallway about German class. We
were outside the classroom waiting for the bell to ring. In the
middle of our conversation, Mrs. Ballantyne and a faculty member were passing
by. Mrs. Ballantyne stopped to ask Katina a quick
question. Mrs. Ballantyne was standing right next to me. We
were one foot apart, but she
didn't make eye contact, she didn't say a word
to me and she didn't nod hello. I just stood there invisible
listening to their conversation.
Of course I remembered the moment. It was the closest I had ever been to
the woman I had idolized for so many years. But no
connection had taken place.
Now, less than one week after my cruel scholarship
disappointment, our paths had finally crossed in this strange, out of
the way location. Nor was it was casual meeting. For reasons
I could not imagine, we had begun a deeply personal conversation. This was too weird.
I suppose if Mrs. Ballantyne
and I had this same chance meeting on the Saint John's campus, the
coincidence would have been easier to accept. But this grocery
store was so far out of her way that I could not believe she was
standing here before me.
As I stood there answering questions about my grocery job and my time at
Saint John's,
I had an overwhelming urge to say something to her about the scholarship. However
I
knew I didn't have the guts to bring up the
subject. One reason I held back is that I had no
idea how to bring the subject. Another reason is that I was afraid
of her wrath if I spoke up.
However the main reason I didn't speak up was
that I cherished every moment I spent with this woman. I didn't
want to say something stupid and jeopardize this new friendship,
especially since I don't know what good it would have done. During today's warm encounter I had not detected a shred
of guilt regarding that scholarship. Whatever Mrs. Ballantyne's
involvement had been, I was pretty certain she had no idea that her daughter's victory had sent me
into a terrible downwards spiral.
Mrs. Ballantyne had been so nice to me I was having trouble seeing
her as Cruella de Ville. My image of Mrs. Ballantyne as the bad
guy in this matter was gone. Last
week I had assumed this lady
was another "rich get richer" member of the high and mighty
club, but now that I met her,
Mrs.
Ballantyne had turned out to be
a pretty nice lady.
Maybe too nice. Her
praise and her listening skills had skillfully penetrated the walls my
fragile psyche had built to hide all the disappointment and bitterness
that I had kept bottled up for practically my entire Senior year.
I suddenly felt very shaky.
I was scared now because I
was in
great danger of losing control. With my anger removed, right here in the
parking tide I felt a tidal wave of despair washing over me. Up till now my anger
and bitterness had been the anchors of my defiance against all the
things that kept going wrong. For good or bad, this bizarre conversation had stripped me of
that anger. Now I was left with only my pain.
I could not ask this woman
to console me. Nor could I expect her to understand what I was
going through. If anything, her presence made it so much more
unbearable. Now that I had undeniable proof that this woman was
just as kind as I had long suspected, my "Life isn't
fair" issue came rushing to the forefront. Oh, my gosh the
pain hurt... if I
had a mother like Mrs. Ballantyne, my life would have been so much
easier.
Instead I had a mother who preferred a bunch of Mexican strangers over
me. I didn't know who to trust any more. I had a father who ditched me for his other children.
Why throw money at me when he preferred his other two kids?
Making matters worse, Mr. Salls
had done the same thing to me. Katina Ballantyne was obviously Saint John's material,
not me. Why throw good money at a loser like me?
At this moment, I had never felt so
abandoned in my entire life.
Those horrible 'me against the world' feelings were back to haunt me,
but this time my
defiance had deserted me too.
It took every ounce of will
power to remain standing there in front of Mrs. Ballantyne. I
wanted to run away and hide. I
needed very badly to slink over to my Volkswagen and cry my head off. I
desperately did not want to embarrass myself in front of this kind woman.
About two weeks ago, I had
broken down in my home over my Little Mexico frustration and cried
myself silly. Oh no, please not that again. I was
scared to death I was going to humiliate myself in front of Mrs.
Ballantyne.
This chance encounter with
Mrs. Ballantyne had just opened the door to the recent gulf of pain that I had kept bottled up
over my father's rejection and losing the scholarship.
I had become so cold and anti-social that I had lost touch with my
feelings. I had no idea this sea of hurt
was hiding within me. Well, too late now. The dam was broken.
Wave
after wave of pain swept over me. As we stood here,
I was in so much pain that I could barely stand up. I hung my head
and tried to steady myself. I squeezed my eyes together as tightly
as possible, but tears still managed to escape. With one hand I wiped my eyes and with
the other I grabbed my churning stomach.
I tried to fight the pain as
best I could. I was such a mess! Mrs. Ballantyne asked if I was okay, but I couldn't
speak. I just nodded and prayed this intense pain would go away.
Huge tears kept rolling out
of my eyes, but I was desperate to avoid starting to sob. At least two minutes passed
as I wrestled to keep control. Mrs. Ballantyne didn't say another word. Thank
goodness! To say
something now would have risked the complete breakdown that I was trying
so hard to avoid. Finally the pain eased up a
bit. Slowly I was able to stand up again. However, I was little better than walking dead at this point. I
just stood there staring out into space shuffling my
weight from one foot to the other.
I was incredibly vulnerable and still teetering on the verge of tears.
The Gypsy Before
Me
Mrs. Ballantyne had to sense
I was in a lot of the trouble. To her credit, she stayed by my
side waiting patiently.
When it looked like the worst had passed, she stepped in and took
control. I must say she sure chose a strange way to snap me out
of it. Her next words astonished me so much that I
literally stopped breathing for a couple seconds.
"Rick,
did you know that Katina
was recently awarded the Jesse Jones
scholarship?"
I was in shock!!
I said nothing, but I am certain the wild look that crossed my face answered her question. I
stared at
Mrs. Ballantyne with an intensity that must have surprised her.
Of all the things to
say!!
My mood switched in a flash. It stopped my
tears in their tracks. I was
riveted. My eyes grew wide. Did she really say that? Did
Mrs. Ballantyne really just bring up the subject of the scholarship?
In a flash, I was angry. I was suspicious
too. I had totally forgiven Mrs. Ballantyne for the scholarship
swindle only to discover she was about to rub my nose it! Let's
join the parade and kick the loser kid while he is down!
For a moment there I
was furious.
All kinds
of heat and outrage raced through my body. But I made certain to
keep my lips sealed. I did not want to lose my temper. One thing that kept me from lashing out was the total
unreality of the situation. This moment had become
utterly surreal. I still couldn't believe she had said
that. This had to be a dream.
I tried my best to speak
again. In a faltering voice, I replied, "Yes, ma'am, I read in the paper that Katina was this year's winner
from Saint John's."
Mrs. Ballantyne to her
cue and continued.
"Yes, I am very proud of her. Katina is a very hard worker.
Rick, while we are on the subject, there is something I would like
you to know. When you told me about your scholarship, it made
me think of my own children. Did you know that all seven of my
children receive some form of financial aid?"
That surprised me.
In fact, it surprised me a lot.
"No, ma'am, I would have never guessed that."
She grinned.
"Well, don't feel bad, no one else ever believes it either.
Everyone assumes that just because we live in River Oaks that money
grows on the oak trees in our back yard. Yes, it's true, every single one of my children are on some form of scholarship.
My husband is a very talented doctor, but because he works for the
state, his income is hardly what it would be if he was in private
practice."
I nodded.
"Yes, we have been
fortunate in many ways, but it would be impossible to
simultaneously send
five children to an expensive private school
like St. John's as well
as send Michael and Dana (her two oldest
children) to a private college without some kind of
help."
That was an interesting piece of information.
It also made sense. This was the first time I
had
considered the possibility that even rich people had to struggle to
make ends meet.
Mrs. Ballantyne
continued. "In Katina's case, she wants to go to Vanderbilt.
The university is willing to help some, but the fact that she is the
daughter of a prominent physician works against her. Thank
goodness she was able to secure the Jones Scholarship."
Interesting. That
argument was identical to my own situation where I feared my
father's salary would jeopardize my chances at a scholarship.
However I wasn't really able to reply. I was still in a state of
shock. But I was definitely listening. I was glad to hear Mrs. Ballantyne
indirectly confirm that the fabled Ballantyne political clout
had indeed had something to do with Katina winning that
scholarship. I also realized I didn't care any
more. I liked this woman so much it didn't matter that her
direct involvement had likely cost me the scholarship.
Mrs. Ballantyne was
too amazing for words. I could not believe how direct she was.
This was a painfully touchy subject, but Mrs. Ballantyne refused to
shy away from it.
My own parents constantly beat around the
bush. They never came right out and talked about any kind of
problem. I was the same way. All three of us hid from
confrontation and direct talk. Mrs. Ballantyne on the other
hand was more like 'damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!'.
She didn't waste any time at all. I admired her for that.
I
agreed that
Mrs. Ballantyne had done nothing wrong. Mrs. Ballantyne was
looking out for her children. She had simply done what a parent is supposed to do
and tried to secure funding for her daughter's education. Who could blame her for that?
Katina was light years ahead of me in school participation, a criterion for the
award I had never previously considered till I read about it in the
paper. From that point of view,
Katina deserved a lot of credit. She had poured her heart and soul
into sports, drama, choir, student council, the yearbook, you name it.
I shrugged. Maybe the decision wasn't so unfair after all.
This conversation was turning into a bible lesson... "soft words turneth away wrath."
By speaking directly on
the touchy subject, Mrs. Ballantyne had drained all the remaining anger out of me.
However, there was still
something
weird about what Mrs. Ballantyne had said. She spoke to me as if she
already KNEW I had energy on the subject. I still had not figured
out that Mrs. Ballantyne had the ability to decipher
her
daughter's victory had surely come at my expense. Instead I
viewed her as some sort of magic gypsy who could read minds. I
was in awe.
Let's give Mrs. Ballantyne some credit.
Once she figured out that I could just as easily hate her guts for
her role in the scholarship issue, she could have simply avoided the
subject, gotten in her car and left. Instead she saw a poor
kid falling apart in the parking lot and she stuck around to make
sure I was okay. Her heart
immediately went out to me. This is why she brought up the
subject. She
was deliberately
explaining how Katina won and why Katina won to help soften the blow for me. Her
courage worked wonders. It took all the bitterness out of me.
In fact, for a moment, I
actually smiled a little. I had to hand it to her.
Mrs. Ballantyne
was so persuasive she was starting to convince me that Katina deserved
that scholarship
over me.
I wasn't quite ready to
laugh about it, but I was definitely feeling better.
Yes, I still felt
sorry for myself, but
I had no problem with what Mrs. Ballantyne was telling me.
Seen in this light, Katina was definitely deserving of financial aid as well.
This had been quite a
conversation.
During our intense talk, for a moment there I had
been stripped bare of all my defenses and found myself on the verge of falling
apart. Now I sensed there was an incredible healing taking place inside of me. Mrs. Ballantyne had knocked
Humpty-Dumpty to pieces, but at least she was kind enough to stick around and
glue him back together again.
I finally got my voice
back. I smiled and said, "You know what, Mrs. Ballantyne, I
am glad Katina won that scholarship. I wish I had won it,
but it's okay. I appreciate your explanation."
Thank
goodness I was standing on solid ground again. I assumed that
now I had regained control, this was the correct time for the lady to exit. To my
surprise,
Mrs. Ballantyne wasn't finished yet. She had more to
say.
Even though we were standing in the middle of the parking with no one in
sight, Mrs. Ballantyne lowered her voice. I had to move closer to
hear her. She was preparing to
take me into confidence on something. Mrs. Ballantyne
told me not to worry about
college tuition. She assured me
that with the kind of grades I had, financial aid would never
be a problem for me. Never.
Was this woman reading my mind again? How did
she know that at this exact moment I was beginning to wonder how to apply for a college
scholarship? This lady always seemed to
know what my next thought was before I did!
Mrs. Ballantyne
had my complete
attention.
I asked her to
explain.
Mrs. Ballantyne was happy to elaborate. Mrs. Ballantyne said that she knew how
scholarship money worked based on her experience with her own children.
In my case, the three-way combination of an excellent college preparatory school like St. John's, great
grades, and my obvious need would guarantee me scholarship money at
practically any college in America. She said she would bet money
on it. Then she smiled at me and told me to stop worrying.
The money would be there. She was sure of
it.
No one had ever spoken to me about college
scholarship money. This was all complete news to me. But it made sense.
Maybe there was a way to work around my father's affluence. I trusted what she said.
Now I began to grin. Her words had just lifted a
huge worry from my shoulders. For the
umpteenth time this afternoon, I had to
work hard to suppress tears. Such a relief!
I couldn't believe how much of my anxiety had disappeared.
I had
worried myself sick wondering
how I was going to afford college. I couldn't talk to anyone about
it, not to my own mother and certainly not
to anyone at the school. I didn't want anyone to know how scared I
was. For the past month, I
had brooded practically
non-stop over how I would ever pay for college. This anxiety
followed me every waking minute of every day.
But now the burden was lifted. This was
the happiest I had felt in a long time.
Now it was time for her to go.
Mrs. Ballantyne touched me on the shoulder, flashed that incredible smile, then
got in her car. But before she drove
off, she rolled down the window and said, "Rick, please don't worry about the money. I promise you things will work out."
And then she was gone.
I
just stood there in the parking lot trying to make sense of it all.
This strange 20 minute
meeting with Mrs.
Ballantyne had accomplished a miracle. Mrs. Ballantyne had boosted my flagging self-esteem, totally relieved me of my grudge
regarding the scholarship and dissipated my greatest fear about
college funding.
I still couldn't get
over how strange this conversation had been. Was Mrs.
Ballantyne sent from another planet to explain things to me?
Was she my guardian angel in her spare time?
I was so glad to put the Jones Scholarship behind me. What
a relief it was that my grudge was
completely gone.
Now I experienced a deep thrill. My
bitterness had been replaced by deep admiration for this woman. My hero worship was not only restored,
it was magnified. What a privilege it had been to meet Mrs.
Ballantyne in person. Now
that I had been given
the chance to see her operate, I was glad to discover my
instincts had been right all along. Mrs. Ballantyne
was something else.
I spent the rest of the day thinking
about our long conversation. The first thing I thought about
was Mrs. Ballantyne. I
was amazed at Mrs. Ballantyne for a number of
reasons. Her empathy, her listening skills and her ability to win
my trust were wonderful qualities. And that mind reading stuff
was pretty amazing. However, what impressed the most was how
direct she was.
I had never witnessed anyone deal so directly with problems before.
How was it possible
for this woman to take a complete stranger like me and lift me out
of such a terrible depression in 20 minutes? This had just
been the most remarkable experience of my life. I just smiled.
No wonder her kids were so sharp. For the thousandth time, I
thought what a
blessing it was for Katina to have a mother like this.
However, today was the first time I was happy for Katina instead of
resentful. I noted with pleasure the switch in my attitude.
Thanks to Mrs.
Ballantyne, I was ready
to face the world and start trying again. Consequently I
immediately turned back to thinking about college scholarships.
Despite this wonderful
meeting, there was a part of me that still felt I deserved the award
more than Katina. Unfortunately, I did not find the courage to
ask Mrs. Ballantyne what she knew about Mr. Salls. I was
far too inhibited to initiate a topic like that. That said, my
conversation with Mrs. Ballantyne had managed to allay my
fears about Mr. Salls to some extent.
I decided Mr. Salls had given that
scholarship to Katina because he wanted to, not because he was
punishing me. I did not feel like Mr. Salls hated me any more.
Maybe he wasn't quite as angry at me over the cheating incident as I
thought he was.
I could not shake the feeling that Mrs.
Ballantyne knew more than she was telling me.
"Rick, please don't worry about the money. I promise you things will work out."
What did she mean by that? "Promise" is a strong word. Did she know something?
