Two Lives

Bauer lies a few miles south of the New Hampshire border in the rolling hills of north-central Massachusetts. A town in transition, Bauer is slowly turning into a bedroom community for Worcester and Boston, each about an hour away.

Even though the white-collar population is slowly increasing, there is still a strong blue-collar element. Third generation mill workers and their families make chairs and other furniture in the few factories remaining in the area.

This is the story of two teenagers, both seniors in the local high school. Two people who live just a few minutes apart, but are from completely different worlds.

Bill Jacobs pulled his car into the school parking lot. Summer was just around the corner, and the air was thick with humidity. Senior year passed so quickly.

His friend Craig pulled in next to him.

"Hey Bill. How's it hanging?"

"Not so hot, Craig."

"Old man on your case again?"

Bill didn't answer. The pair watched the buses unload a horde of students. Two girls approached them.

Bill's face lit up. "Good morning, Tina."

"Hello, Bill." Tina yawned. "I'm so wiped. I was up till almost two in the morning studying for this exam."

Craig snorted. "Exams. Who needs them?"

"I do, for one," said Tina. "School is my ticket out of here. If I do well on this final, I'll probably get a scholarship to a state university."

"Whatever. I'm going right to work after I get out of here." Craig watched the class president enter the building, laughing with a group of his friends. "College is for brains like Ken Alston."

Tina sighed. "That guy has never had to study for anything. I hear he's already accepted to a dozen schools."

"Yeah, great," said Craig. "More tests, and more people telling you what to do and how to think. I couldn't stand it."

Tina laughed. "Of course not. You're a lazy bum. But Bill could get into any school he wanted. Right Bill?"

Bill kept looking where Ken had entered the school. "Yeah, sure. Anywhere I wanted."

That afternoon, Ken returned home to find his brother Len playing Nintendo in the den.

"You'll ruin your brain if you keep playing that."

"And then I won't get anywhere, right? Come on, Ken. You know mom and dad won't let us play games unless our homework is done. Get off my case."

"Where are mom and dad, anyhow?"

"Dad is off with the foreman working on the new post office."

"And mom is right here." Cindy Alston, a teacher at the elementary school, entered the room. "How did you do on the exam today, Ken?"

"Great. I'm almost positive I got an A. That would definitely get me into the University of Virginia."

"That's great! We'll have to go out to dinner when your father gets home."

"We can't go tonight, mom. We have that town meeting tonight to vote on the override."

"Oh that's right." Ken's mother sighed. "Honestly, if that motion doesn't get passed tonight, a lot of key projects at both schools will have to be cut. It seems like it's all the town can do to keep the schools open."

Len chuckled. "Good thing you're getting out now, bro."

Ken shook his head. "Other kids aren't so lucky."

Bill dropped his books inside the front door and headed straight for the refrigerator. He grabbed a soda and a bag of pretzels, and went to watch the Red Sox game.

His father was seated in a chair, drinking a beer and watching the game. The Red Sox were at bat.

"Dad, could I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure, " replied his father as the batter swung and connected solidly with a curve ball. "Come on, get out of there!"

"Dad," said Bill. "I've been thinking about college, and..."

"College?" his father snorted. "Why would you want to think about something like that?"

"I want to learn more. I want to make something of myself. I want..."

"Bill, let me tell you a story. Twenty years ago, or something like that, I wanted to make something of myself. I wanted to see the world. I know what crazy dreams kids have. My father got me a job in the factory that summer, and I've worked there ever since. My grandfather helped found that factory with the idea of it being the family business.

"My father said one thing to me when I complained about working in the factory that summer. 'Tony,' he said. 'You don't need a college education to build chairs. You need two hands and you need wood. If you don't support your family's business, your family's business isn't going to support you.'"

He took a drink from his beer. "I'll talk to Frank and see you get a job there this summer."

"But dad, all my tests say that I'm as capable succeeding in college as, well, Ken Alston!"

His father nearly choked on a pretzel. "Alston? Families like that are turning this town into a big social experiment. You don't want to be like Ken, Billy boy."

"Dad, what can I get if I stay here? After twenty years, how far have you advanced in your career? Granddad didn't even put you in charge when he died! He sold it off to a large company..."

"Full of college graduates like Alston!" his father yelled. "Do you want to live like that? Earning your living from somebody else's work? Sitting behind some desk with nothing to show for your time but a string of numbers? I didn't need college, and neither do you!"

"But dad..."

"But nothing. End of discussion." Bill's father stood up and stormed off.

"I am so proud of you, Ken," exclaimed his mother.

The family was seated around the kitchen table. An open letter from the University of Virginia sat in the middle.

"I'm proud of you too," said his father. "Have you given any thought to what you're going to study?"

"A little. I'm thinking about engineering of some kind, but I'm not sure."

"You don't need to know for certain, but it helps to have a general idea."

Bill fed another log into the splitter. He'd been working at the mill for almost a month, and he'd hated every minute. Sure, he had some money, but he was so tired at the end of the day he couldn't spend any of it. At least tomorrow was a holiday.

The whistle blew for lunch. Bill shut off the splitter and got into his car for the short drive to the post office.

Ken loaded up the small car his parent had bought for him. His luggage and school supplies barely left room to see.

After hugs and kisses from his mom and dad, and a firm handshake from his brother, Ken got into the car and drove off. He wouldn't return to Bauer for a while.

Bill returned home to find a note attached to the door. It read, "Ashley and I have gone to Fitchburg for new school clothes. Dinner is in the fridge. Love, Mom."

He opened the front door and found his father sprawled on the kitchen floor, clutching his chest. The phone lay next to him.

Bill froze for an instant, and then rushed to his father's side. He grabbed the phone and dialed for the ambulance.

The line was busy. Bill swore, and called the police. The line was busy there as well. He slammed the phone down and paced, crushing pretzels into the linoleum. That was the problem with a small town; you could never get a hold of somebody when you really needed them.

He picked up the phone, and dialed again.

The family filed into the house, with Bill leading the way. They entered the kitchen, and their mother busied herself preparing something for them to eat.

Bill saw the pile of letters from the day before, left where his father had set them. Thinking about his father brought back painful memories of the past twenty-four hours. His father had suffered a heart attack, and an unknown allergy to the medication had sent him into a coma.

Bill felt helpless. He had been there at his father's side. He had watched him die.

Bill noticed one letter in particular, addressed to him. He opened the letter and read it silently. It was from the State College. He had been accepted for the spring term, and had qualified for a full scholarship. He saw doors begin to open, and a smile spread across his face.

When he looked up from the letter, the news died on his lips. His sister stood next to their mother, helping make dinner. She was only twelve. She had so much potential.

"Mom, I'm not hungry. I'm going to bed."

He walked upstairs, and set his alarm clock for six-thirty. After all, he needed to work the next morning. He looked at the letter once more, then tore it in half and dropped it in the trash.

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