Asparagus Ariel

         I was a terrified young woman, in a landscape completely unknown to me. This was to be my test. Sink or swim, but the waters were dicey and overwhelming. I remember her smile, a vacant smile, as we sat down to our first meeting. A small group of first-day college freshmen, we were a compilation of our various hometowns and high schools desperately trying to become incarnations of our self-professed independence.
         We were asked to sit in a circle and the mentor for our group did what he had been trained to do, break the ice. A name game, one in which you pair your name with a fruit or vegetable beginning with the same letter. Even though we all felt that we were much to mature for such a childish game, we played on. The mentor started with the young woman sitting two seats down from me. She, that girl with the vacant smile, was to be somewhere in the middle, but I was to be near the end. An anxious feeling began to bubble into my stomach and I tuned out what everyone else was saying; that is, until it was her turn.
         "Asparagus Ariel." Those words, the first I heard her say, in a calm voice heightened my awareness. I immediately began to wonder how she could possibly be so calm. I realized that very soon the moment would be upon me and began racing through my mind for the right fruit or vegetable.
         In my newfound independence I had chosen to change the spelling of my name to something that made more sense. All my life I had been Katie, short for Catherine. The reason this had happened is because my great-grandmother, whom I was named after, spelled her nickname in such a way. Throughout my childhood I had to explain this phenomenon and I decided that enough was enough. I didn't need her nickname; I would re-invent myself as Catie. This miniscule leap was a small step in learning about who I was, or at least who I wanted to be.
         Three people left and all of a sudden I'm rushing to find a vegetable or fruit that starts with C. In my mind I was grateful that I had decided to change letters. Can you imaging being that overwhelmed and trying to find a K fruit or vegetable? Before I knew it, the moment was upon me. I looked at her, Asparagus Ariel, and quickly looked away. I needed that short break, some part of me needed to ground myself within the room. The young man on my left finished and the mentor looked at me. He must have known that I was bordering on meltdown because he took time to make a quick joke and sit down before saying, "where were we?"
         "Celery Catie." I said it in a timid voice, one that only appeared when in a large group of people and all expect something of me. As time has passed and wisdom has accrued, I no longer use such a voice. It really was that last shred of me as a little girl. I'm glad she got to see that, the way I was as a child. As soon as I had said it, I knew that it would inspire questions. The mentor said something to the effect of, "with a C?" My response was non-verbal, a quick nod.
         She caught that nod. I was no longer seeing a vacant smile; no, now there was mystery behind it. Now, I had piqued her interest. Though it was not something I intended to do, I was glad it happened. We broke from the group and I began racing back to my dorm room to escape meeting anyone new at this moment. I was exhausted. I had always had trouble in such situations. Being away from home, without anyone familiar, not knowing what to do next, and unsure that I belonged in this alien university was all dancing on my frazzled nerves. I had barely gotten down the hall, when I thought I heard someone telling me to wait up.
         I stopped, and decided that they must have been hailing someone else. I slowly began to walk, you know, just in case. A few feet from the stairwell, something brushed my shoulder. Asparagus Ariel was there, right in front of me, about to say something. As desperate as I was to get away from her, go to my room and cry over my predicament; I was even more desperate that she say something kind and inclusive.
         "Geez, you're a hard girl to keep up with – what's the rush?"
         "Oh, I'm sorry; I didn't realize you were trying to stop me."
         "Why wouldn't I? Anyway, I'm starving. Do you want to go get some dinner at the dining hall?"
         "Um, sure."
         You see, she had saved me right there. Asparagus Ariel had saved me from becoming an antisocial nobody who dropped out after two days. I was a borderline case at this point and she pulled me back where I wanted to be but couldn't find the way.
         We went to the dining hall and actually met up with most of the girls who were on Ariel's floor. She had already met them and began introducing me around. Coming from a smaller, though not tiny, town I had not been exposed to a great amount of diversity. That night I had dinner with three people who were not of the same race, one person whose first language was not English, a couple of people who were not of the same sexuality, and a myriad of differing religious creeds. After dinner, we went back to Ariel's floor and spent most of the evening discussing where we had come from and what our plans for the future were.
         From then on, I didn't feel quite so alone on campus. I found that these people would come into and out of my life as I needed them too and at the end of day one, I was actually looking forward to day two. Time would prove that the group of us would become very close friends, always looking to each other for support or help with class before calling home or a professor. Now, every time I see asparagus or even celery, I think of her and the way she saved me by simply asking me to share a meal with her.