Shortly
'Shortly, it will be here shortly. What the hell does that mean ?' she thought to herself. It was a Tuesday morning. It was 8am. It was raining. No, it was lashing down, there is a difference. Her feet were soaking already and the damp was slowly working its way up from the pavement where the heavy drops of rain bounced up from the growing pools of water. She was beginning to shiver. A bus had finally arrived a few minutes ago, wading its way through the murky puddle at the bus-stop caused by an over-worked drain, but the bus was full. Her shouted query to the driver in his steamed up cab had resulted in this definition problem, what on earth did "It'll be along shortly, love" mean ?
'Soon' she supposed. 'Or briefly maybe ?' But would it be soon enough ? She had been up since 5.30 studying and then squeezing onto an over-crowded commuter train to get this far after a martyr's breakfast of dry toast. She had been counting on her hour of commuting contingency time being available for last minute revision. Instead the train had stopped for 20 minutes to let a mainline train through and she had missed her usual bus and the next one had refused passengers. She couldn't study in the bus-shelter as some kind vandal had smashed the glass overnight and it now provided little protection for her and the other hopeless passengers-in-waiting.
She started the if-only game.
If only CIE ran more trains in the morning.
If only there was an ATM here so that she could spend her post-exam-booze-up money on a taxi to the exam-centre. All she possessed currently was one quid and her monthly commuter-ticket.
If only she had gone to Trinity instead, it was only a single train-ride away.
If only she hadn't gone back to get her St Jude medallion for her pencil-case. He was the patron saint of lost causes which had always seemed so appropriate for exam-days. Now it was starting to look just a wee bit too ironic.
If only her parents had a damn car. Why did she have to be saddled with the only parents in the city who didn't know how to drive ?
If only she had gotten that puncture repaired on her bike.
If only her parents hadn't convinced her that hitching was tantamount to asking to be raped, even at 8.30 on a Tuesday morning.
8.40 and still no sign of a bus. 'Right, there's nothing else for it, if I make good time I can get there by 9, it's my only chance at this stage'. Taking one last glance back along the road for a miracle bus she started to walk. She usually sang quietly to herself when she did a long walk but this time she needed all the breath she had to get there in time. Her bag, full of notes which she would never have time to read now weighed heavily on her back. She considered dumping it, but reckoned that the repeat exams were becoming more probable by the minute so she couldn't afford to ditch the notes.
She spent 20 minutes planing her letter of complaint to CIE. Coras Iompar Eireann that stood for. She reckoned that it should really be addressed to Crockpot, Idiot and Eejit. The tone of the letter moved from mildly irritated to downright furious as the rain increased its intensity and her shoes started to squelch with every footstep. She was particularly eloquent on the topic of drivers calling her 'love', she hated that. She started to pass by schoolkids as it approached 9am. She prayed that her watch was keeping good time today and that it wasn't already too late. The young lads were amused by this determined adult walking past them at speed with a big red face and heavy breathing.
They called her names but she ploughed on. 'Ignore them, they're just kids' she advised herself. She knew her face was as red as a tomato. The fact that this indicated a good circulatory system was little consolation.The more often the cat-calls came the less pleasant the advice became but still she held her tongue, she didn't have time for this today. She was condemning them all to academic ruin by the time she reached the gate to the college. At least it took her mind off the potential for her own academic ruin. If she had to repeat this exam then the best she could get would be a pass degree and she would lose the job offer she had accepted in the Spring. It was best not to think about what her parents' reaction would be to that news.
She ran across the square as she saw the last of the students disappearing into the exam hall. There might still be a chance. The invigilator held open the door for her and smiled. She was the last one to take her seat, it was easy to spot, the only empty one left. She took out her pencil case, and that medallion. Maybe St Jude hadn't failed her yet. The murmur of voices before the papers were distributed ran in waves throughout the hall. She picked out one voice in particular "Oh I didn't do any study last night, I was in the SU bar. I'm sure I'm going to fail" exclaimed the brightest guy in the class. She wanted to hit him. Everybody knew that he studied all hours at home and then pretended to have done nothing. He might have fooled her in first year but those carefree days were long gone. This was the Finals. This was serious. This was her first chance to prove that she could achieve something on her own.
She picked up her pen and it dropped from her hands. She was still panting from the frantic walk. She tried to read the title page of the exampaper but her heart was beating so fast that she was convinced that the entire exam hall could hear it. It was even louder than the much complained of mega-tick of the college clock on the wall. It stared down at the nervous faces of the students as they stared up in return, waiting for the time to open the exampaper. Her wet hair dripped onto the exampaper and the title ran slightly.
She was sure that her hands would stop shaking, shortly.
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Copyright Grace Tierney, 2003