Tempestuously Acquiescent

I could barely wait to begin drinking again. Of course, they were always watching now. Strict curfews, transparent itineraries, lists of acceptable friends. In my more courageous moods I lit a cigarette on my walks to yet another chaperoned event- inhaling fleeting freedom.

Unfortunately, the favourable consumption of alcohol requires time, it requires space. I remained constrained. So I did wait. Awaited a break-down of vigilance, a resumption of apathy, a recreation of distraction. But the downstairs dorm authority retained his justified suspicion- he had once been a dorm kid (a disaffected one at that) and knew that I was beyond their cheap platitudes. I would drink again if he looked away, so he looked on.

Other authorities picked up on his paranoia. One day the inestimable Mr. Garland approached me. "I heard you talking to a dorm mate the other day and you mentioned that you had done something that would get you in trouble."

"Uh... I think that I might have been kidding"

"Just be careful, you know that you have signed that contract."

So we've gotten to the circumscription of my teenage posturing.

Now we were really getting down to it. My mind shook with fury at my vicarious father's surveillance; if I hadn't needed a drink before I needed one now. Yet he stood at the bottom of the stairs "where are you off to?" at the threshold of my room "who are you seeing this weekend?"

The next step was always inevitable. Although at the time.