Decisions, Decisions

We're supposed to go out again tonight. Courtney came for dinner yesterday -- eggplant casserole and spinach salad, prepared by my mom. After everyone had swiped the last pieces of eggplant through that garlicky, parmesan-laced tomato sauce, my father retired to the Rose Bowl, and Mom, Courtney, and I worked a puzzle and watched Gigi in front of the fireplace. And after Maurice Chevalier thanked heaven for little girls and Louis Jordan achieved his August-May romance with Leslie Caron, Courtney thanked my mother for a great evening and whispered to me, "Karaoke tomorrow night. Stay out late for some debauchery."

From previous nighttime outings with Courtney, I know the implications of "debauchery." 1) There will be an ungodly amount of alcohol (not that God would endorse anything beyond a single Cabernet). 2) Even if Courtney and I arrive in the same vehicle, we won't leave together. People use the phrase "getting lucky," but in my experience, there is zero luck involved. The formula reads like: two restless, 20-something women; two 20-something guys (the adjective "horny" is generally unnecessary); 5-6 drinks apiece; 1 superficial exchange of phone numbers.

For me -- and, I suspect, for Courtney -- the mathematical outcome includes a fraction of regret. How handy that time is almost as good as booze at smothering unpleasant memories.

My former boyfriend (now capital-F Friend) believes in luck, but not fate. "I don't believe things happen 'for a reason,'" he wrote in the death-knell email. "I don't think the hurricane happened for a reason, or that you wound up in Charlottesville for a reason. I'm glad we met. I'd meet you all over again, even if I knew you'd leave. But we can't stay boyfriend/girlfriend." (This is paraphrasing, but you get the idea.)

Well, it beats "it's not you; it's me."

And truth, I don't think events and relationships happen "for a reason," either. Hurricane Katrina didn't deliver me to Charlottesville for a reason, just like it didn't force families to huddle in the Superdome for a reason. Kids don't get cancer for a reason. There's no reasoning with discrimination or poverty or random violence. Not even with stumbling on the sidewalk. I believe in God, but more as a tour guide than an events director. "There's the spa and the swimming pool and the tennis courts," God says (to me, anyway). "There's a chance of rain, so if you want to stay indoors and play Tetris, go ahead."

Luck and choice, but no reason.

I'm going back to New Orleans tomorrow. Not because Providence destined it, but because I didn't apply for a transfer to UVA. And if I stay in Murfreesboro another week, both my parents and I will require sedation.

I'm a little scared and worried, but I also have a history of luck. I'm not just talking about the relatively undamaged state of my New Orleans apartment, though this represents a major luck surplus. Nothing beyond blind good fortune prompted the first encounter between me and Friend -- the one that led to a round of ciders and Ms. Pac Man, followed by 2.5 months of cappuccinos, Jack White, "Arrested Development" cuddling, etc.

Luck was with me in Honesdale, too. After all, Mary's from Cali, and Joelle and Paul are from Rhode Island....so how did we all wind up pub-crawling near Scranton?

I even "got lucky" in the Delta, where the odds aren't so good. What else but luck could sustain a 21-year-old English/psychology major through nine months as an elementary-school teacher? The patented "don't-even-think-about-it" Teacher Look helps, but there must be luck, too.

I don't have a perfect record for choice-making (understatement alert). If I decide to join Courtney at Pete's tonight, it will undoubtedly be a bad choice. But I'll probably go anyway. I often told the fourth graders, "Choices have consequences, so make wise choices" (borrowing from one of my own teachers). What I didn't add was: bad choices often make pretty good reading.