Cydney Calagayan: Arrival

         “U.S. 395 Jct., 7. Creston, 21. Sacramento, 185.” Those were three destinations and their respective distance in miles they were from the road sign that the shuttle bus just sped by on I-52 West. Cydney Calagayan, sitting by the window in the seventh row on the right side, observed that sign as she had all the other road signs since the bus entered the freeway. She had that kind of ennui-induced fascination with road signs that’s fit for a passenger. She knew the Verdana typeface of each sign, the interesting names of the highways and lonely streets that crossed the interstate. Well, interesting to a point, be it Gulch Drive, Vast Blvd., Highway 16 South or a mere Mountain Street. With her parents, her third-generation Irish-American mother and her Filipino father, asleep beside her, Cydney was too wired to sleep and chose to watch the scrolling eastern California background of yucca trees, blandly brown highlands, and power lines of interesting designs. The brown eastern California landscape most certainly contrasts with the lush, green Hawaii landscape that Cydney grew up in.
         She observes another sign. It’s a blue sign that lists available restaurants at the Highway 209 exit. Motorists can stop at a Jack In The Box, a McDonald’s, an In-N-Out Burger, a Wendy’s or an actual restaurant known as Connie’s Best Café. How Cydney would love to sink her teeth into a Sourdough Jack from Jack In The Box right now. If her dad was driving instead of the bus driver, they’d pull off the freeway and into the drive-thru. But instead, Cydney only had to get her nourishment from a peanut butter & marmalade sandwich, a few Ritz crackers, and a Diet 7Up that she had when the bus left the airport in Barstow.
         While Cydney continues to be fixated on what is on the other side of her window, she pontificates on I-52 and the whole interstate highway system in general. The I-52 is a lengthy road that runs across the southwestern quadrant of the United States, from Corpus Christi, Texas to Sacramento, California. Cydney has had a fascination with interstate highways since she looked at a road atlas when she and her parents went to the mainland to see Disneyland, Las Vegas, and the Grand Canyon when she was nine. Even if Cydney lived in a not-so-wide, not-so-open space such as Oahu, she always had the urge to travel. Because of her interest in interstate highways, she once joked to her parents that she would become a trucker when she grows up. Of course, her Mom & Dad would always remind her that she can’t truly accomplish such a romantic goal until she finishes college and gets a good job—too pragmatic and hardly romantic. Because Cyd’s parents have always been so pragmatic, she wondered if it was a sin or crime to think so romantically, to be a dreamer. Daydreams and fantasies had kept Cydney busy, especially when she was undergoing the daily grind of schoolwork and chores and, well, feeling “nerdy.” Home-schooling can do that to you…or maybe that’s just Cydney. She did her homework and studied as instructed without challenging her parents’ authority or instruction, for the most part. Not finding anything interesting on television helped. She was too old for Nickelodeon and never was stimulated by sitcoms. And whatever her Mom & Dad were watching was a news program or news channel, “Law & Order,” or a basketball game. She kept fit by bicycling, jogging, or swimming. And the friends Cyd made were the neighbor kids, who were two to four years younger, and she’d visit them just to baby-sit, watch TV, or play video or board games.
         But now, after graduating at the high school level with a 4.0 GPA and doing splendidly in her two years at Cook Community College, Cydney leaves behind that quaint existence of sheltered youth and, according to one road sign, is eight miles away from Creston, home of San Vicente State University, home of the Crusaders. From what she learned from TV, SVSU, even for a state college, boasts one of the finest bioengineering and medical programs in the Western Athletic Conference. But not only that, their football and basketball teams also have grasped plenty of fans from Eastern California and beyond. Despite having a lot of seasons where they lose two regular season games at most, SVSU always plays in a bowl game that isn’t as prestigious as the Rose, Cotton, or Fiesta Bowls for an array of reasons only a college football fan can understand, such as something called the BCS. And as for their basketball team? Well, those Crusaders have now made twelve NCAA men’s basketball tournament appearances over the past two decades thanks to Tommy Wright, who used to coach a college in the Tar Heel State. Wright has won over nine hundred games but is more infamously known for his raging temper. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t coach on the East Coast anymore.
         As I-52 West enters the foothills of the Central Sierra Nevada range, Cydney then speculates about how she came into becoming a part of the San Vicente State student body. As the youngest of four siblings, Cydney was brought up on high privilege and high expectations. Jesse, the eldest, did the Calagayan family proud in finishing summa cum laude in his high school and graduated from USC Medical School with honors. The thirty-four-year-old is now a nephrologist in Medford, Oregon with a Korean-American wife and three children. Stefanie, the first-born daughter, had a rough few years as a kid, especially being overweight back then. But through a religious experience, she was motivated to overcome such teenage angst and earn a scholarship at Oregon State University. She, too, went to medical school, at Cornell. And during that time, she made a New Year’s resolution to lose weight and actually followed through. After playing the fat wingperson at dances and keggers, Stefanie soon appeared in the pages of Maxim Magazine (and turned down Playboy) and has gone out with her fair share of dudes, from a Sri Lankan-American attorney who appeared on a dating-reality TV show to the center of the 49ers who originally is from American Samoa. The twenty-nine-year-old, 109 lb. Stefanie now lives in a lofty apartment in downtown San Francisco where she performs pediatric surgery. Jess and Stefanie were too old to have lived with baby Cydney as kids, so she corresponds with them via email and sometimes Instant Messaging. Cydney usually likes to communicate with Stef just to hear about her lush single life.
         And there’s also Maurice—Moe for short. He was the only sibling Cydney grew up with. Like many Filipino-Americans, Moe had a knack for basketball. But seeing how a Fil-Am’s appreciation for the sport hasn’t exactly advanced into a handful of Filipino athletes sought after by the NBA or NCAA scouts, Moe made it a goal to play basketball at the professional or college level. Moe’s parents thought that his desire was just a phase, but all those years of b’ball practice, eating and exercising properly, and the balancing of sport with education paid off. Moe was the leading scorer of his high school’s varsity team for a couple of seasons, and his consistency, long-range ability, and 6’8” frame caught the eyes of scouts from USC, Duke, Michigan State, San Diego State, and Pepperdine. While he was intrigued to attend Jesse’s alma mater, USC, Moe didn’t want to pass up an opportunity to play under the tutelage of Mike Krzyzewski. Moe accepted Duke’s scholarship, redshirted his freshman year, and proved to be an above-average shooting guard for the Blue Devils, averaging 11.7 points and 6.4 rebounds with a 77% shooting accuracy. To establish a foundation for a backup career, Moe went into nursing school. By the time March Madness came around, Moe realized that his performance wasn’t enough for NBA scouts to look past Duke’s more talented players and chose to finish nursing school. Now twenty-five, he lives in Atlanta with a college friend and works as an R.N. at Peachtree Lutheran Hospital.
         The bus turned off I-52 West on the Highway 61 exit, which leads to Creston only eleven miles away. Cydney’s parents were still asleep while she continued observing the mountainous panorama while listening to her “sorta soft rock” playlist in her iPod. She just wanted to clear her mind of her role and status of being a daughter of proud parents, a bright and promising scholar ready to take on the collegiate level, or being some naïve, silly girl in silly eyeglasses and a T-shirt from a souvenir shop about to be ravaged by the beasts of the dorms. Just her music and the view will put her at peace, if only for a while.
         The bus arrived at the depot in Creston, and Cydney and her parents had to take a taxi to St. Vinnie’s—a local nickname—five miles near the outskirts. When they arrived at the residence halls of St. Vinnie’s, the family met with student reps and resident advisors for orientation and located Cyd’s hall and room. What Cydney observed about the dormitories were that the names of them all had some mountain or gold rush theme to it: Tuolumne, Sutter, El Capitan, Calaveras, Sequoia, Fremont, Sluice, Pyrite, etc. The dorm that she was staying in was at Pyrite Hall—Room C57 in the third floor. After they obtained information about her room, Cyd’s parents were then chatting it up with the Asian-American parents of another new student; that student was settling in and his parents were on their way out.
         As Cydney and her parents were eating a meal served by the SVSU Student Body for orientation, Cydney observed a young lady rollerblading up one of the cement walkways, weaving through the quad. She was actually a little intrigued by this in-line skater as she stopped at a drinking fountain to take a sip. Cyd was checking out the girl’s highlighted blond hair, her mystifying crystal-blue eyes, and how her petite yet angular body accentuated her sports bra and biker shorts. After all, it was 84°, a perfect day to rollerblade. Cydney may not be a lesbian, but she hadn’t had too much success beckoning the opposite sex. Just what was it that was drawing Cydney to her? As the rollerblader was about to resume her exercise regimen, she then looked at Cydney’s direction. As their eyes met, the girl had to wave hello. Cyd waved back. And she skated off into nowhere. Once the rollerblader left, Cydney’s mom alerted her that they just spoke to her cousin on the phone. Cydney had two cousins who were currently students at St. Vinnie’s. The cousin her mom was referring to was Aimee Padilla, a med student who lives somewhere in town. She and Aimee go back to when Cydney would visit her and the rest of her relatives in downtown Honolulu until she left for SVSU. Her other cousin was Derek McMurphy, who was in his junior year just like her. Cyd only met him once, at his mom’s wedding back when she was nine. Derek was from the San Fernando Valley. Cyd’s parents told her that she could see Aimee or Derek whenever she felt lonely or needed someone close to talk to.
         When the family of three brought Cydney’s first belongings—her backpack, one wheelie suitcase, and the monitor to her PC—to Room C57, the door thankfully was held open by a doorstop. And they could view a TV set from coming in as one of the new furnishings brought to the living room. Watching that TV was the first of three roommates in C57 sitting in a loveseat that, along with a round table, is already provided in the dorm. Only a blind person would fail to see that this new roomie of Cyd’s was bald, with a five-o’-clock shadow scalp. She also had her nosed pierced on both sides and wore a tight-fitting undershirt (or “wife-beater” for a more tongue-in-cheek moniker) with places on her arms and stomach that could use some improvement at the gym once or twice. Just as Cydney feared—she had a “punk rock girl” as one of her roommates. Cydney’s new roommate arose to greet the family.
         “Hello!” she said, extending a hand for handshakes. “Welcome to San Vicente State. My name is Honey O’Gratton.”
         “Nice to meet you, Honey,” said Cydney’s dad. “We’re the parents of your new roommate. This is Cydney Calagayan.” He introduced Cyd as she stepped forward to shake Honey’s hand.
         “Hi, Cydney.”
         “How you doing, Honey?”
         “Come have a seat,” Honey said as she turned off the TV and showed them the loveseat and chairs available. “You can leave those things by the door,” she then said as Cydney’s parents placed the suitcase and PC monitor next to the doorway. “So where are you guys from?”
         “We’re actually from Honolulu,” said Mrs. Calagayan. “What about you?”
         “I was born and raised here in Creston. What was your last name again?”
         “Calagayan,” said Cyd’s dad.
         “What kind of ethnicity is that?”
         “It’s Filipino.”
         Honey then looked to Cydney. “So you’re half-Filipino?”
         “Yep.”
         “You sure don’t look it.” Honey observed this from Cyd’s large doe eyes and blond hair.
         “Well, I do have my Dad’s nose and skin tone.”
         “Hey, Cyd,” said Mr. Calagayan. “Let’s continue bringing your stuff up here.”
         “Okay, Dad. We’ll be right back,” she said to Honey as she and her folks resumed moving in.
         “She seemed…unusual,” Mrs. Calagayan commented about Honey as the three picked up more of Cydney’s things. “Dearie, are you okay with your roommate looking like…well, Honey?”
         As Cydney picked up her pillow and blankets all carried out in a large bag, she said, “I hope so. In the residential life questionnaire, I did make a slight request to have more ethnically diverse roommates.”
         “Just how exactly diverse did you want your roommates?” Mr. Calagayan asked.

         After Mr. & Mrs. Calagayan had brought all of Cydney’s belongings into Room C57, it was time for them to say some parting words to their daughter. “Well, my little girl,” said Cyd’s father, “this is it.”
         “Yeah, I guess it is, isn’t it?” Cydney said a little sheepishly.
         “You’ve made us very proud,” said her mom as she hugged her. Her dad hugged her afterwards.
         “When will you call me?” Cydney asked.
         “When we return home,” said Cyd’s mom.
         “And you can call or email us anything you feel like it,” said her dad.
         “It’s going to be tough,” commented Cydney.
         “Aw, don’t worry ‘bout it!” her dad replied. “You’re a tough girl! You’ll live, even with one of the Hell’s Angels as a roomie.” Again, Cydney’s parents gave her hugs and kisses before they finally re-entered the taxi and she waved goodbye and watched her parents’ taxi shrink into the traffic. As she walked amongst the residential buildings in the warm afternoon, she thought to herself that this was going to be her first time that she had to become an independent adult. She was no longer in the safe abodes of her household or even in the warm, tropical paradise of Oahu. She was her own person.
         Cydney eventually returned to room C57 to begin fixing up her room. She saw Honey at the balcony enjoying a cigarette; she still hasn’t met her second roommate yet. She set up her computer—which she knew how to do—fixed her bed, hung up her clothes, and decorated the room with her stereo, stuffed teddy bears, pictures of her family, and other trinkets she brought back from Hawaii to remind her of home. Once she was done, Cydney adjourned to the bathroom to freshen up. When she came out, she saw Honey examine her stuff. “Hey Cyd! I notice you got CDs by dc Talk, Steven Curtis Chapman, uhh, Pax217. This is, like, Christian rock, ain’t it?”
         “Yep,” Cyd replied.
         “You’re actually into this #^%~?”
         Uh oh. As soon as Cydney heard the first cuss word from her roomie and the first criticism of her music, she thought that this could be a long year.