Lunch Break: A Brief Love Life

The halls were empty, because I’ve committed myself to become an early bird. Although the sparrows were whistling a joyous tune, my life was engulfed by a resonating twilight. The music had stopped playing for God knows how long; the first light of dawn seeped through the window, waking me up and saving me from this comforting dormant state. He had graduated last semester, but such achievement, in my opinion, doesn’t justify desertion. He no longer called me, responded to my messages, or at the very least write a short but courteous “goodbye.” Since there wasn’t anyone to witness my misery, I let out a tear. I got up from the bench and went to restroom, washed my face and prepared for the first lecture.

This morning’s class was so tedious that I didn’t even remember the name—any name, his, mine, what we were in the beginning and after the closure. The administrative silence didn’t utter a single word, yet it burdened my head with a humming noise. How could someone live their life after committing a heinous crime? Silence is worse than bluntness and apathy; even if it hurts the beneficiary and may reward the donor with the most coveted niceties, you must call a spade a spade, as a way to not let the bitterness linger.

His defection made me realize how mundane was the world, my life, the passing of time, which could explain why love is dangerous. They all say love isn’t real, but a single rejection is enough to leave you in despair. However, I tend to get over it fairly quickly; what puzzled me was the fact that it happened constantly. Did I let my guard down in the beginning or towards the end? Perhaps I got stuck mid-journey!

I had recently transferred from Philosophy to Russian Studies, but I still had mixed feelings about my impulsive decision. From an outside perspective, Russia seemed like a place straight out of a fairytale; to my surprise, my assumptions were further from the truth—its history was riddled with chaos and fragmentation, which intensified my hopelessness. But after the first dose of caffeine, I would come back to my senses and remind myself why I left Philosophy in the first place—too much thinking and not enough philosophy.

It’s true that the classes were boring, but they at least gave me the facts; every question had an answer, even if they were later dismissed by later research. In spite of this, there were problems that were purely philosophical, such as “Why did Communism in the USSR fail” or “Why was Stalin evil.” These questions didn’t interest me at all, since I cannot determine what is failure or what is evil; you may fail a test, but life doesn’t end there—life could end another way. Although the terms we use in our daily lives are provisional, and at times illusory, I can attest that there are vestiges of evil in every person’s behaviors, including mine, but you are either too proud or too naive to come into terms with it. Why was Stalin evil? I’m by no means an expert, but a lot of people would’ve been more wicked if given the opportunity.

My professor wasn’t born in Russia, but he was of Yakut ancestry. His classes were mostly garbage and uninteresting academic fluff, yet, whenever he talked about his expeditions around the Sakha Republic, the class would become exciting. Last semester, he talked about how he almost froze to death during a Summer cold wave.

“My grandmother was very ill, so I packed up a couple of clothes inside a small backpack. Fast forward a couple of weeks, I find myself drunk and in my beach trunks—yes, I pissed them.” 

I bursted into laughter. 

“I’m a fake Yakut: I cannot withstand 10 degrees without wearing at least 4 layers of wool. Anyway, I was only wearing a tank top and a urinated Bahamian swimsuit in the middle of Siberia—the dampness made it worse. My grandmother died the following day.”

We all remained stiff and with our lips sealed. He turned agitated.

“Why that face? You guys are allowed to laugh at my misery. In fact, at the funeral, I couldn’t contain my laughter—of course, I was basically intoxicated that day. But please bear in mind and not make any assumptions about my character, I’m sober. Enough of silly stories, we must finish today’s material.” He opened a book and started reading out loud.

Why not return to the motherland, I wondered. It’s clear that teaching isn’t one of his talents. Maybe he, deep down, hates Yakutia, which seems logical, but desperate measures tend to be the prudent ones. Almost every professor was either Slavic or Finnish, but they all hated Russia; this underlying hatred of Russia and all it represented made my studies amusing.

“Is Ukraine real? That’s an excellent question!” The professor pressed his hands on the desk. “If Ukraine wasn’t real, then, why is the sky blue and the sun yellow? Next question—if there are any. Okay then, in 1809, Finland (…).”

Since it was a diverse university, the cafeteria had all sorts of foods, which wasn’t appreciated by the faculty or the students. For them, food was a source of calories. There were foods that made me happy and others that riddled the soul with uneasiness. One of my favorites snacks at the cafeteria was umeboshi, although it was either hit or miss. At times it was sweet, and, very rarely, salty; however, I wasn’t ordering that today.

While waiting in line, someone tapped me on my shoulder; I turned around and encountered a guy who used to be after me. He’s pretty amicable, but I wasn’t interested in him. Towards the end of the first semester, he had become a born-again “Orthodox Atheist,” which I found questionable.

“Long time no see, Milady.”

“Please,” I blushed, “don’t call me that.”

“I can tell that you like it, given your little smile, hehe.”

His tone irked me and I turned angry.

I grabbed him by the shirt and told him: “Zachary, I’m not a little princess. I don’t like diminutives.” I did like diminutives, but his tone showed signs of depravity. I could tell that he had turned sinister.

“Woah! What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I let him go. “I feel unwell today. Why don’t we talk another day?”

“Okay, okay…”

No one witnessed my outburst, so I was sentenced to a guilty solitude. I was guilty because I was certain that he’ll have his version of the situation, since there were no witnesses. As I was picking up my tray, a sinister idea popped into my head: what if I kill this guy? I tried to forget about my homicidal ideas and focused on enjoying my meal.

My meal was a simple yam without spices; I wasn’t sure what variety of yam was it, but it was quite flavorful. I couldn’t tell if I was ill or perturbed by my sudden anxiety. Everything cloyed me—the lemonade, the yam—my abdomen was sweaty, and I was overthinking new problems other than my lovesickness. Perhaps I’ve overcome my heartbreak—should I thank him for tapping my shoulder?

I couldn’t finish my meal, including the lemonade. I turned my head to the right and stared at the mango puddings that were inside the refrigerated pastry display. Then, I turned my head to the left—“The Patriarch of Moscow” was having lunch with a group of friends. It was quite obvious they were talking about me. Now that I think about, he may be amicable and innocent, bearing his “little” scarf, but he hates women more than the average wifebeater. Nevertheless, I don’t care what he might have eavesdropped to his friends; people deserve to live in their fairytale, however stupid it may be.

On my way out of the cafeteria, I crossed paths with Zachary; we made eye contact but didn’t say anything to each other. He smiled; I didn’t. Hatred had kept me hostage, isolated, but in return, it has cured my lovesickness. He adjusted his scarf and his coat. He put on airs of grandeur and condescendence, which was proof that his social circle is one isolated echo chamber meant for prayer but repurposed for meaningless chit-chat.

I went outside to meet up with my friend Carina; we greeted each other and sat on a bench at the university’s botanical garden.

“Do you see that green bird?”

“Which one?”

“There, inside the pine.” She pointed at the tree while she had her arm over my shoulder.

“That’s a Monk Parakeet. It’s not endemic to the country.”

“Oh! How cute!”

“Yes, they know how to talk, so watch your words. People only teach parrots dirty words. Why do you think words become dirty?”

“Hmmm,” I put my hand on my chin. “I think, in my humble opinion, it’s because they tend to be catchy and fidgety. Fanny, for example.”

Carina started laughing and then checked her phone.

“You need to break free from social media—it’s garbage.”

She furrowed her brows while scrolling through her phone and responded: “You are right, but don’t you find ‘garbage’ fun and funny?” She pronounced funny like ‘fanny,’ although I couldn’t tell if she did it on purpose. I sometimes think she has a speech impediment.

“Do you remember Zachary?”

“The weird guy. He’s really weird. I don’t understand why he has so many followers.”

“Pardon me? What do you mean by followers? He hangs out with the same 5 guys.”

“Well, I’m a nosy gal, I can’t lie.” She giggled and turned her attention to her phone again.

“Are we going to talk or are you going to scroll through social media?”

“Wait! I want to show you Zachary’s account!” She pronounced the “Z” with a noticeable lisp.

Carina showed me Zachary’s account—I couldn’t believe it. I snatched her phone and started reading all his recent posts.

“See! It’s addicting.”

While I held the phone, I turned my gaze towards Carina. “Carina, this doesn’t amuse me at all.”

I felt the urge to smash her phone, but I contained my rage. I placed the phone in her hands, closed my eyes, took a deep breath.

“Carina, please don’t think I’m crazy.”

“No… Not at all.” She scratched her head with her available hand. 

“Do you have fleas or something?”

“Now you are sounding just like my mother!”

I felt regret and apologized: “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to sound harsh. I feel ill lately. But I don’t think it’s because of the pains of the heart—I already got over it.”

“Sure… hehe. Jokes aside, I understand.”

The parakeet flew away, which made us change the subject of our conversation.

“This bird wouldn’t survive in Siberia!”

“Well, I read that there are Monk Parakeets in Chicago. Northern United States is pretty cold—that’s what some people have told me.”

“True, true. Cold exists beyond Europe. Siberia isn’t even in Europe.” I rested my chin on my hand.

“If you exclude Nordic countries, you will realize that Europe is as warm as Colombia.”

“As Colombia! Carina, don’t be silly. That comparison doesn’t make any sense.”

“If they keep melting the North Pole, Europe might end up like a lukewarm cup of salty water with a couple of ice cubes.”

“What?”

“Haha! Never mind. I’m just being looney.” 

Carina hugged me; I caressed her but without giving too much affection. We idled until 1 PM, without talking about anything, forgetting about Zachary and his idiocy. I scratched Carina’s scalp and then tapped her shoulder. “Carina, wake up. It’s 1 PM and I need to go.”

“I’m so tired. I have one more class at 2PM. I miss you; you should’ve stayed in Philosophy. We are learning about Bataille; he’s a coprophiliac, hehe. The professor told us that Jack Lacan—the psychoanalyst—stole his wife. You should never trust people who admire you!But honestly, I have no idea what Bataille is even saying. I don’t know if the problem is him or the translation. Lenin was so readable, no wonder the peasants supported him. However, this isn’t in my jurisdiction, hehe. You are the one studying Slavic studies; you know this more than me.”

“I’ve only been one semester! I know very little about that situation.”

“I want to ask you something before you go.” Carina held my arms and looked at me with her somnolent eyes. “Are you a Communist? Is that why you left Philosophy?”

“I’m not sure. I’m not a political person.”

Carina let me go and buttoned her fuzzy coat. “What a bummer. I thought you were into that stuff. In my case, I like North Korea—isn’t Kim Yo Jong kinda a cute? I’ll show you a picture.”

“You find Kim Jong Un cute?!”

“No! Kim Yo Jong—I know, it’s a bit of a tongue twister. I’m talking about his sister. Look. Isn’t she cute?” She smirked and winked at me as she showed me the pictures.

“She isn’t ugly, I can say that.”

“She’s gorgeous, but…” She smirked at me again and stayed silent for at least five seconds. “But… no as cute as you.”

“Carina!” I blushed and covered my mouth. I stood up, pulled Carina by her arm. “Go wash your face and get ready for class.”

“Blegh! You keep sounding like my mother. Well then, good bye. See ya’ tomorrow. Try not to scroll through Zachary’s posts. Don’t convert to Judaism or whatever he believes in, hehe.”

“Orthodox Atheism.”

“Exactly! I mix up religions.”

I didn’t have anything to do, but Carina did read me: I was going to scroll through Zachary’s posts. I exited the faculty and took the subway. I entered the train but didn’t sit down, because others might judge me for reading tasteless stuff in public. His posts were worse than pornography and any type of vulgar content. It infuriated me, yet I couldn’t decipher why did it irritate me so much; it was as if he had found the key to joy but doesn’t want to share it with anyone. In fact, I didn’t understand anything. However, I knew well he felt some sort of excitement from sharing his stupid takes. Just recalling the encounter at the cafeteria gave me the chills!

I went to a Persian café to continue psychoanalyzing Zachary. I sat down at a comfy chair and read the menu without letting go of my phone.

“Young lady, are you ready to order?”

“Yes.” I didn’t let my eyes off the phone. “I want a halva and a glass of water.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, young lady. I’ll be back in a minute.”

The server came back and placed the order on my table. Without looking at the pastry, I grabbed a spoon and started eating it.

After researching for a while, I stumbled upon a post I was able to understand.

Some women, if not all, seem attached to men who ruin their lives.

Bah! What a dumbass! I already got over it! He should get over me!—pasty son of a bitch. I was tempted to open an account just to insult him, with my name and all, with a picture of me—the most alluring one. As I was about to confirm the new account, I couldn’t remember my email’s password. Guess I’ll have to punish him in person and at the premises.

“Is it good, young lady?”

“Chalky yet delicious. It reminds of my university, so I’m not certain if it’s a good thing.”

“Lady, it must be good, because learning is good for the heart.”

“Is that so? Isn’t it better to know nothing at all?” I turned off my phone’s screen.

“Yes, the more you learn, the less likely you are to make mistakes.”

“How do you know that is the case? Not all types of knowledge are valid. You could be an expert in evil.”

“If you understand evil, the less likely you are willing to do evil.”

“Interesting; nevertheless, I disagree.”

“We can agree to disagree, young lady.” He smiled.

I decided to take an abrupt turn and changed the topic of the conversation.

“What do you think of Communism? Do I look like a Communist?”

The server got startled by my politically charged question; he looked around the shop as if he had been left stranded, in the middle of nowhere, without a compass or a guide.

“Young lady, this is a controversial question. Communism is illegal in Iran!”

“Yes,” I crossed my legs and clasped my hands, looked at him in the eye, “but we are not in Iran. Now, tell me.”

He gulped and took a deep breath. “Well, Communism is a logical idea. There shouldn’t be any poor people; wealth should be enjoyed by all. We are all equal, regardless of your background.”

“Why are we all equal, sir?” I took another bite of the chalky treat.

“Because there is only one God and he had created all of us.”

The server’s words touched me. Although I wasn’t a believer, it made me cry. Upon my despair, the man remained quiet and placed a napkin in my hands. Since his presence made me comfortable, I didn’t contain my tears.

“My daughter cries a lot, so no need to be ashamed.” He pat me on the back. “Young lady, the halva is on me. It’s my gift to you for being a wonderful lady.”

Since it was still sunny, I went for a short stroll. I had stopped crying, but my eyes were still red and damp. I took the bridge route just to gaze at the shallow river. I placed my hands over the railing and analyzed my surroundings. The bridge, even though there were plenty of cars passing through, delivered me peace and silence. I was brought back to reality, yet this novelty left me stranded. I closed my eyes and paid close attention to the sound of the stream, the chirping parakeets, and the gentle breeze that swept the leaves. The day was cold, but not as cold as Moscow. I didn’t believe in God, but a part of me wanted to believe—perhaps this is Zachary’s problem: he wanted the truth to be guaranteed without the need of a God. Zachary deserves to be killed.

I had lost the sense of time, which lured me into walking until sunset. I arrived home at 7:45 PM; my mother had prepared dinner for me and my two sisters, but I didn’t have any appetite. My youngest sister was in the living room playing a cooking video game—I sat on the couch.

“Let me play.”

“I haven’t finished this level.”

“Gimme.” I snatched the controller and started pressing buttons.

“Wow, you suck! You are burning the cake. You are really bad! My God!”

“I’m learning; I’ll soon become a pro.”

“I doubt it.” She stood in front of the TV. “Gimme the controller—I’m running out of restarts.”

My father stepped in.

“Aren’t you a little bit old for this? How was uni?”

“Good.”

“You better not switch Majors again. You can’t be jumping around.”

“Okay, dad. I won’t switch Majors. I promise.” I replied as I waited for the new game to load and my sister to get out of the way.

“Well then. I will go to sleep. Here’s some money for tomorrow.”

My little sister, envious, went towards dad and grabbed his shirt. “Hey! What about me?!”

“I’ve already given you enough.” My father stressed. “You have plenty of snacks for tomorrow.”

“Daddy, but you spoil her all the time and she doesn’t even know what she wants to do with her life!” My sister stared at me, stuck her tongue out, and crossed her arms. “Gimme the controller; your time is up.”

“No more video games for today. Gimme the controller.”

“But dad!” My sister pleaded and held my father’s arm. She then pointed at me. “It’s all your fault. Grrrr.” 

My sister, after complaining for five minutes, left to her room.

“Don’t listen to your sister. I know I scold you for your indecisiveness, but you are my favorite daughter. Good night.” He kissed my scalp.

After silence inundated the living room, I went upstairs to brush my teeth and wash my face. I entered my room and encountered my pajamas lying on the bed—I put them inside the laundry basket and removed my clothes. I got in bed and stared at the ceiling in order to fall asleep; in spite of my lack of thoughts, I couldn’t get myself to sleep. I got up and turned off the radiator, opened the window, and gazed at the stars one last time. I sat on my bed and opened one of the drawers; I reached for an allergy medicine I had bought the other day, as I had anticipated that the new semester would affect my sleep. Regardless of my certainty about being cured, Carina’s playful insinuations left me thinking—have I let go of my old love? I don’t remember him, how he looked like, his voice; I only remember that he had graduated last summer. Like a fool, I attended his graduation. I put so much effort into looking pretty, but Carina ended up being the only person complimenting me. He was distant that day, which, in retrospect, makes sense, since that was the last day we saw each other. Maybe college love is never meant to be? Where do people meet their soulmate, anyway?

I opened the liquid antihistamine bottle and drank half of it—it was cherry flavored. Two seasons have passed—I should let go, continue with my life. He probably doesn’t even think of me. That night, after the ceremony, he stayed until midnight with me. His attitude was strange, which proved that his desertion wasn’t so spontaneous—he had it planned it all along.

“You are one of the most beautiful women out there.” He kissed me on the lips.

“Why not the most beautiful?” I pushed him away.

“That’s what I meant. I’m afraid of sounding too clingy. I’m going to be honest, sometimes you scare me, because of your beauty.”

I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Ha! How silly. Perhaps you are sexist. You know,” I brushed my hair, “men and women are, in a subtle way, almost identical. We belong to the same species. Tell me, can you distinguish between a female and male insect? Of course not—unless you are an Entomologist. My point is, men and women only have different genitals; both sexes are as stupid. I remember I read about this; I believe they use the term ‘narcissism of the small differences.’ I don’t want to lecture you. Give me a kiss.”

After making out for while, he started sounding passive-aggressive.

“You are like a little girl. I think it’s the first time I pay attention to your sheets and the fact that you have a pet mouse. Why a mouse, though?”

“What’s wrong with having a pet mouse? I’m not even a pet person myself; some animal rights activists were giving them away, so I took one with me—you are overthinking stuff.”

“It’s cute, though.”

“Hmmm.” I stared at his face while he was on top of me. “Get off me, you are hurting me. You are quite heavy.”

He gave me one last kiss and buttoned his shirt. “Well, I have to leave; I’m meeting up with my cousin tonight. You can come if you want.”

“We can go on a coffee date tomorrow. I’m strung out tonight.”

“It’s okay, babe.” He caressed my head, wrapped me in my “adolescent” sheets, and left. I fell asleep one minute after he went through the door. 

I ruminated on the past until falling asleep.

The light passed through window. The sky was almost blue and the sun yellow. I felt refreshed but with a bit of arrhythmia—it must have been the medicine. I took a quick bath, moisturized my face, and smiled at the mirror. Yesterday’s overthinking left me in a good mood, so I decided to put on some make up. I went downstairs to have breakfast with my two sisters. Strangely, my little sister was also happy.

“What are you eating, little sis?”

“Just a cereal dad had bought this morning. Do you want to try?”

“Thanks, cereal messes up with my stomach.”

“Okay then,” she replied. “You are missing out.”

I smiled at her and put my hand under the table—I pinched her knee.

“Ow! Please, don’t do that!”

“I have a gift for you. Put your hand under the table.”

“It better not be a prank.” She slid her hand.

“Let’s keep it a secret between you and me, okay? Don’t tell dad.” I gave her a decent amount of money I had saved.

My little sister was left dumbfounded, incredulous at my act of charity. She stood up and hugged me.

“I love you! Thank you, big sis. This cereal sucks… Don’t tell dad, please. Hasta la vista señoritas. I’m getting myself a delicious croissant and chocolate milk before school.” She went to the kitchen to drain the milk from the bowl, grabbed her backpack, and left through the door.

“You are in a good mood today. I find it hard to believe. It’s strange. Is there something I don’t know? New boyfriend?” My middle sister smiled.

“On the contrary! I’ve found God—or Allah, hehe…” I blew her a kiss.

“You don’t even believe that yourself!”

My middle sister was one year younger than me; she had started college last semester, but we didn’t go to the same university.

“What’s that lunchbox all about? I thought your faculty had decent food.”

“Well, didn’t you witness the donation?”

“Yeah, yeah, but you can always ask mom and dad for more money—you are definitely acting strange… I will find out sooner or later.” She pointed at me with a butter knife.

“Better later than sooner, hehe.” I covered my mouth.

“You are acting like a woman in love!”

“Love isn’t the only source of happiness.” I replied while I put on eyeliner.

“God! Why is my sister crazy!” She raised her hands. 

“Amen!”

“You know, I have some friends that study at your faculty. They will investigate you.”

“They could do all the research they want, but they won’t be able to investigate my heart.”

“How cute—but I’m not stupid. I will inform my messengers about the situation.” She shook off the crumbles from her shirt. “You are also suspiciously overdressed. You definitely have a boyfriend—or a girlfriend perhaps?”

“Please,” I sighed and rolled my eyes.

“Now that I think about it, your friend Carina holds you in high regard. Something tells me that she’s in love with you, but I don’t think mom and dad would mind having a queer daughter—I don’t mind either.”

“My God, you are sounding like a conservative parent!”

“Leaving your sexuality aside, you know mom and dad only care about one thing, right? You could be a drug addict, a swinger, an alcoholic, and they will never disown you. They only care about your progress as a student—which is absurd! What will happen after we all get our degrees? They will feel empty.”

“Maybe, but I’m not in the mood for Philosophy today.” I stood up and grabbed my lunchbox, kissed my sister and prepared to embark on a “journey.”

What my sister didn’t know is that I was about to choose between committing suicide, killing Zachary—or poisoning him. However, I wasn’t deciding it myself. According to my investigation, Zachary has an important talk today at an Eurasian cultural center. His conference will be on the future of the West. Inside my lunch box, I had a sharp sushi knife, some treats, and three bottles of liquid antihistamines. I was planning to stab him at the university.

Yesterday, on my way home, I stumbled across a shop that sold the same Mango pudding they have at the faculty’s cafeteria—I bought one for the Iranian server and extra one just in case. Before going to university, I stopped at the Persian café to deliver him the mango pudding and a letter. When I entered the café, everyone greeted me. A man who was about my age went towards me.

“How may I serve you, beautiful lady?”

“Oh, I’m not having anything; I just want to deliver this to one of your coworkers. I believe he was the only server yesterday, around 2:30-3:00.”

“Ah, Shahbaz! He’s free today.”

“Oh.” I lowered my head and tried not to cry. “Well, can you please give him this.”

“Of course! What’s your name, young lady?”

“It doesn’t matter—he’ll know. Anyway, goodbye. I’m late for class. Thanks for everything.”

“Goodbye, we hope to see you again!”

I left without shedding a single tear.

Carina was waiting for me in front of the faculty. She embraced me.

“Wow! You look gorgeous! The red lipstick suits you so well. Wow, speechless. You should wear black more often. Your hair—looks bright and silky. Also,” she sniffed my neck, “you smell amazing! Hmmm, do you have an important event or something? Lunch with the Mayor? Auditioning for a K-pop band?”

“No, I’m about to commit a crime, hehe…” I responded while holding my lunchbox and covering my mouth with my other hand.

“Please, don’t say those things. You’ve been acting so strange lately. Don’t worry me. Tell me the truth—why are you dressed like that? Do want to impress a boy? Don’t make jealous—just kidding! Tell me, please.” She held my hands.

“I was in the mood for looking extravagant today.” We entered the faculty.

In truth, I only got dressed for the Iranian server, since there was a high chance that it was the second and last time he was going to see me.

“Carina, can you hold this for me? I need to pee. Don’t open it, or else the cold will escape.” I gave her the lunchbox; I was confident that she wasn’t going to open it.

I got inside a stall, pulled up my skirt, dropped my panties, and sat on the toilet. I took out my phone and rolled the dice. I had downloaded a randomizer app this morning. I typed the three options and pressed shuffle—it gave me the answer. I turned off my phone, pulled up my panties, rolled down my skirt, went to the sink and washed my hands.

“I think I know!—I knew it! You are going to Zachary’s talk.”

“Carina, please. That would bore me to death!” I took my lunchbox.

“Is anything wrong? Be honest. You can be honest with me.” She held my hand.

“Nothing is wrong with me. Now you are the one who’s sounding like a mother—how the tables turn! Can’t you see that I’m happy? I’m overjoyed!”

“Well,” Carina scratched her head, “if you say so, you say so.”

“Pardon?”

“It sounds funny.” This time she didn’t pronounce it as “fanny.”

“Carina, tell me, what’s your biggest desire right now? I can give it to you.” I placed the lunchbox on the floor, put my arms around her and looked at her in the eyes. I smiled.

“Eh… You are acting weird. Are you okay? Is there something wrong with you? I’m worried. You don’t need to give me anything!” She hid her face behind her bangs.

“Don’t act naive. I’ve psychoanalyzed you.” I kissed her on the lips.

“I never thought you’d be the one making the move. I’m quite shocked, to be honest.”

“Do you like me?”

“Yes! I’m really—really—in love with you, but I don’t know if it’s correct. I think I prefer having you as a friend, since it keeps my feelings at bay. Sometimes, you scare me, and not because of today’s behavior. I’m afraid of getting hurt. I’ve always assumed you were heterosexual—are you?”

“I’m not in the mood for Philosophy today!” I gave her one last passionate kiss.

She hugged me and kissed all my face, then she whispered in my ear: “I love you. Please don’t ever abandon me.” However, my heart had already turned cold. 

“Carina, let’s not be late for class. Good luck.”

“Okay. Good luck to you too, I guess. It’s only the second day of the semester. Why good luck? Hmm. Well. What a bizarre day! You are so cute!” She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. “I won’t rush into things. I won’t ask you to be my girlfriend, yet. Hmmm, good luck. Bye. See you after class? Yes? No? Tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” I pat her head and went to class.

The wick of magic was burning out; I was succumbing to sorrow and somnolence. I couldn’t pay attention to the lecture. My heart was racing, my stomach hurt, and I felt a mild fever. I turned to a classmate and whispered to his ear: “Can I drink a little bit of your water? I’m thirsty.”

He looked at me in a judgemental manner, almost disgusted, while also maintaining his composure. “Okay, you can have it.”

“I’ll only drink a bit.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to drink it regardless.”

“What? Are you afraid of girl germs, hehe.” I stuck my tongue out and winked at him.

He turned his face away from me and didn’t say a word. He was indeed disgusted.

I might have been impulsive by kissing Carina—I don’t want to ruin her life. She’s a good gal and a loyal friend. I started doubting my intelligence, because it took me more than a year to realize she was head over heels for me. Despite this, I don’t know how to feel about everything surrounding my existence. I ignored my mixed feelings and daydreamed about loving Carina, unconditionally, as if the end were approaching. Still, the wick of the fantasy was burning out; I had to fulfill my obligation.

The class ended; my classmate—let’s call him the water bottle guy—left the room almost  running, as if he were escaping a horrible shooting—he’s not crazy. For a brief moment, he infuriated me more than Zachary, yet I was committed to the decision. I picked up my lunch box and left my notebook on the chair.

It was 11:30 AM. I went to the cafeteria to look for Zachary. Before opening the door, I checked myself in the mirror for any blemishes. Zachary was having coffee alone—he seemed lifeless and drowsy. He took notice of me; I waved my hand and walked towards him.

“Can I sit down with you?” I smiled without showing my teeth.

“Sure.” He stared at me from head to toe.

“Zachary, I want to apologize for yesterday. I was having a bad day. Anyway, I bought you Mango Pudding; I know it’s the same one they sell at the cafeteria, but this one is different—it has cherry syrup.”

He grinned at me and remained silent. He then clasped his hands and placed them on his chin.

“Thanks, Bianca, but I’m not stupid. Why don’t you eat a spoonful first? Are you trying to poison me? Bianca, I major in Russian Studies just like you. I may find you the most attractive woman I’ve ever seen, but I’m not deceived by looks. Here, grab a spoon.”

I furrowed my brows and snatched the spoon from his hand. “Okay! You are so ungrateful! Fine, I’ll eat it.” I started eating it.

He finished his coffee and prepared to leave.

“Bianca,” he placed his hand on my shoulder, “I have a conference in two hours, you can come. You might learn a thing or two.”

“Can Carina come?”

“I don’t think she’ll fit in. You can bring her, sure. See you, Bianca. I hope you don’t get poisoned. It would be a shame if you died looking like that.” He pat my back and left.

I didn’t know how to feel. My stupidity had been exposed by guy who’s even more stupid! I cried out of desperation and frustration. I put my hands over my head, messed up my hair. The celestial blue walls turned into the blue hour; the morning sun transitioned into a glacial twilight. Had someone opened the window? The cold had escaped the room, the wind I wanted to keep for myself. As I unzipped the lunchbox to grab the sharp knife, Carina entered.

“My precious dame, what are you eating? Are you crying?”

“Zachary is so annoying! I can’t stand the guy.” I zipped the lunchbox again.

“What did he do?” Carina held my left hand. “Don’t listen to him. He’s full of himself ever since he started getting those placements. I should stop being nosy.”

“I don’t judge you. I am thankful for your nosiness.” I cleansed my nose with a napkin.

“Don’t cry.” She sat beside me and attempted to comfort me. I’ve never felt this level of proximity with Carina; it made me anxious.

“It’s been an intense semester.” I used another napkin.

“It’s only been two days!”

“Yeah, yeah, but it has felt like a century. I’m sorry for putting you through this.” I looked at Carina with my watery eyes.

“I love you.”

I didn’t respond.

“Do you love me more than a friend?”

“Not sure.” I turned my face away from her. I grabbed a fresh napkin to wipe the tears I was about to shed.

“What about your mouse? How’s your mouse?”

“He died over a month ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You never told me. Rest in peace.” She looked down, as if she were about to cry. She held on to her skirt and became stiff. However, she still had the other arm around my shoulders.

“Bianca, do you love me more than a friend? Can you give me a percentage? I’d be content with 10%. Do you?” We looked at each other. Her eyes were watery.

“Not sure.”

She removed her arm from me and looked down, raising the tension in the room. “I’m about to piss myself.” Carina bursted into tears. “I knew this was going to happen.”

“Carina, you don’t need to be afraid of love. Whatever happens or whatever we eventually become, I will be there with you until the end. Did you hear me? Until the end.”

“What is the end?”

“We have yet to define it, but it might have been laid out beforehand.” I turned my attention to the Mango Cherry Pudding. “I could fall asleep at any moment. Let’s finish the pudding; it might help us forget about everything.” I embraced Carina.

“Pudding makes you sleepy?”

“Long story short,” I whispered into her ear: “I tried to sedate Zachary, but my plan failed. Have you taken allergy medicine before?”

“You tried to what?!”

“Yes, I’m crazy. Sorry.” I covered my mouth to contain my laughter.

“I knew you had something up your sleeves.” Carina stopped crying.

“You wanna know what’s the worst thing about it—I’m feeling drowsy. It’s not you; I’m the problem. Don’t take it personal if I fall asleep. Anyhow, the worst thing about this is that it actually tastes delicious.”

“May I use your spoon?”

“Sure.”

She savored it. 

“Hmmm. Honestly, pretty tasty. Can I kiss you? On the lips?”

“Yes.”

Our public display of affection had made the few people in the cafeteria uncomfortable. They all switched places and resisted the urge to look. In a strange way, their discomfort helped me loosen up a bit.

“Carina, why do you like me so much?”

She stopped kissing me and smirked: “I’m not in the mood for Philosophy today, hehe.”

“Unbelievable!”

“A taste of your own medicine—pun intended.” She ate another spoonful of the pudding.

“Carina, I’m sleepy.” I laid my head on the table. “Guess I’ll stab Zachary next week… Whatever you do, don’t open my lunchbox.”

“What?!”

I succumbed to somnolence. 

THE END

pic: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Kanazawa_Univ._Kodatsuno_campus-11.JPG