News of a death on campus was definitely an alarming feeling, although because it wasn't due to a crazy shooter or anything like that, the campus wasn't on high alert, for which I was thankful. I had chosen to attend the memorial for Reese, and even though she wasn't exactly my friend, I had known her. It made me sad that her life had ended so early because she was the same age as me and I felt like I still had so much to experience. Even though she had been such a bitch to Desiree the other day, I certainly didn't think she deserved to die. It was kind of scary, knowing that anyone's life could end that abruptly, even when they were so young. Reese's memorial made me think about my own mortality, and how I really should appreciate my life because it could end at any time. The short lecture about eating disorders was enlightening as well, since I had never known anyone who suffered from them, and I learned something new when the speaker said that the disorders plague men too, even though society tends to paint eating disorders as a 'women's only' problem.
At the memorial, I was reminded again of my mother, who shared a similarity to Reese in how she died. Even though she didn't have an eating disorder, my mother did bring her death upon herself when she chose to drink and drive. It didn't surprise me that I still thought about her occasionally, but I was very grateful that the memories never lingered for very long, like they used to. I no longer got overwhelming feelings about her, and I definitely didn't drive myself crazy with self-loathing thoughts anymore. Ephemera and Dad had been keeping in touch with me despite their busy work schedules, and often times I would get a short text or email from one of them letting me know they were thinking about me. It was sweet, and I enjoyed the sentiment. I had noticed in some of the emails that Dad referred to Ephemera as Mom, and she had even signed one of hers with 'Love, Mom.' I remember it bringing a tear to my eye because I did like the fact that Ephemera felt much more like a motherly figure to me than my real mother, and I didn't mind in the slightest that she had been given that title.
This particular afternoon, I had just finished my last class of the day and I was walking to the comic book store to look at some of the drawing styles within the different comics. They inspired me with some of my assignments, both in ideas for what to draw, as well as drawing technique. I loved the comic book store, and even though I didn't consider myself a geek by the standard definition of the word, I didn't mind the environment the store provided. It was whimsical with its bright colors and interesting layout, which seemed to be a mish-mash of a bunch of different things on the surface, but when put together in one store became a cohesive collection of items. Large cardboard cutouts were placed all around the store, usually at each entrance, almost to mimic a superhero of some kind welcoming you into the doorways. I always felt at ease here, like I could completely be myself, and I really enjoyed that feeling, especially since I had felt so deprived of it in my childhood and teenage years.
The comic book store wasn't too crowded today, which I enjoyed. It was hard to browse the shelves for books when you constantly had to be worrying about trying not to step in front of someone, or accidentally elbowing them in the face as you pulled a book off the shelf. I was mindful of the other person in the aisle with me, of course, since I could sense that they were standing a little bit off to my left. I had just picked a comic off the shelf when the person bumped into me rather roughly, causing me to lose my balance and drop the book on the floor.
"HEY! Watch it!"
I felt anger rise up in my body because I was in defense mode for how hard the person had collided with me, and it almost felt like they had done it on purpose. I didn't know who would want to hit me that hard, considering I didn't really have any enemies or anything like that, but when I turned around to see who it was, my anger quickly dissipated. It was Desiree, and I suddenly felt like a complete asshole for yelling so loudly.
"I am so, so, sorry, Armand. I am a total klutz, and I don't have very good judgment of people's personal space. When I tried to get a closer look at this shelf, I was oblivious how far I had bent down. Again, I am so sorry."
"Aww, it's okay, it was an accident. I just yelled because it didn't feel like an accident when it happened, it felt like I had been run into with bad intentions."
Desiree smiled awkwardly at me, and I could tell she was still completely embarrassed by the manner with which she had bumped into me. Spotting the coffee counter behind her, I got an idea of something I could do that might make her feel more at ease. I clearly wasn't bothered as much as she was that our butts had touched. It had been an obvious accident, and it wasn't like Desiree had assaulted me or anything.
"How about we start with a clean slate? Do you like coffee? I can buy us some and we can hang out a little bit."
The expression on Desiree's face was not one I expected to see. Usually when I offered to get a girl a drink, she was more than happy to accept my offer. Desiree, however, looked pained, and I wondered if she was still just traumatized from our earlier encounter, or if she thought I was being an asshole and hitting on her.
"Are you sure you want to hang out with me? I'm not exactly grade A material. I mean, I can't even browse a store aisle properly."
"It's okay, it was an accident, but if you don't want to, it's fine, we can just go our separate ways."
I turned to walk away when she didn't respond, but all of a sudden Desiree tapped my arm, and got this pleading, anxious look on her face, clasping her hands together.
"No, no! I do want to get coffee with you, I just, I didn't know if you wanted to get some with me."
"I asked, didn't I?"
"Yes, but I do this all the time, I doubt other people's intentions, especially after I've run into them with my butt."
"Do you make a habit of running into people that way?"
"Well, no- I- um."
"Relax, it's just a joke. I was trying to lighten the mood."
Desiree's face lost its nervousness and the panic in her eyes left, while her mouth slowly turned into a smile instead of the frown she was sporting earlier.
"Oh! Okay, sure. I would love to get some coffee with you."
Desiree and I made our way to the coffee counter and were greeted by the cute blonde barista, who was very peppy. I guess it made sense since she worked around caffeine all day, she was probably able to drink a lot of it. I ordered a blended drink, while Desiree got a hot mocha.
The barista got our drinks ready and I paid, after which Desiree and I headed over to the nearest couch, which was behind us, and in front of a Big Bang Theory tv show poster. We set our drinks on the table in front of us, and smiled at each other. I looked up at the neon sign that was hanging on the wall in front of a giant poster of a city skyline that I really enjoyed. I liked pictures of large cities because they were so vibrant and alive. Appreciating my surroundings was something I had been trying to take advantage of since I had been released from the self-loathing prison I had created with the thoughts in my head.
"Thank you for-"
"So, how are-"
Desiree and I spoke at the exact same time, which caused both of us to laugh. At this point, so much awkwardness had transpired between us that it was becoming funny the more it happened. I was happy that Desiree didn't panic from it like she had earlier. As we sat on the couch together, with her laughing, I noticed that she did have a rather nice smile, on the rare occasion that she did smile. Earlier when I had talked to her, both on this day, and the day I saved her from Reese, I felt like she was either panicked and anxious, or sad and upset. By observing her, I got some insight into what it might have been like for others to talk to me back when I rarely smiled.
"Ladies first."
"Thank you for the coffee. I actually haven't, um, a guy hasn't bought me anything in a long time. I think the last person who did was sometime in high school."
"You're welcome. I don't date much either. Guess we have that in common. So, how was your day?"
"Oh, the usual, I had class, and I come here to hang out when I don't feel like going back home."
"I see. This is a fun place to be, isn't it? I get inspired by all the bright colors and artwork showcased in the comic books."
Desiree shifted in her seat, leaning forward to sip some of her mocha, and then coming back to look at me. She was a lot more calm now than the bumbling mess she had just been when she ran into me in the aisle. I wondered what was causing her nervousness earlier, but I guessed it was just the inappropriateness of the situation, and her feeling like she had embarrassed herself so immensely.
"I like art too. I enjoy creating something, like a sculpture, and then painting it with spray paint."
"Oh, that's cool. I usually use a paint and paintbrush on a canvas. Otherwise, pen or pencil in a sketchbook works too when I'm just doodling and trying to get ideas."
"Yeah, I know. Spray paint has been given a bad connotation, like it's the medium of gang-bangers who deface and vandalize things. I don't know why I like it, I just do. Plus it's not like I am trying to paint graffiti on buildings."
I looked at Desiree, unsure why she had just gotten so defensive. Had I said something to make her think I hated spray paint? Her voice had taken on a tone of slight irritation, as if she had often needed to argue her case for what she liked to do. I supposed maybe it had something to do with her getting bullied constantly, which she had revealed to me the first time we met. She was definitely an interesting girl, and I could tell she wasn't trying to be strange, or actually yell at me. I must have been looking at her too long without responding because the next thing I knew, Desiree was apologizing profusely again.
"Ugh, I'm so sorry, Armand, I didn't mean to snap at you about spray paint. It's just that I get lots of flak for enjoying it, and I've been called a lot of names for liking it, so I feel like I have to justify my love of it constantly. Gah, how many times have I put my foot in my mouth today? I hate being like this, I'm just so, so awkward, I'm such an awkward person, I just-"
I put my hand on Desiree's arm to try to comfort her somewhat because I sensed that she was starting to ramble from nervousness. Desiree responded by trailing off and smiling at me.
"Desiree... it's okay. I wasn't judging your love of spray paint, and I'm sorry other people have. I was just curious why you were so defensive about it. My lack of response was because I was trying to figure out if anything I had said could be interpreted as such."
"Oh. Well. Thank you, for not judging me."
"You're welcome. I used to get that a lot from my mother, so I know how small it can make a person feel. I'd never want to do that to anyone else."
"I see. I'm sorry that happened to you. Parents are supposed to love you unconditionally, but they don't always do, do they?"
Desiree got a far away look in her eyes when she mentioned parents, and I wondered if she had experienced something similar to what I had. Then I thought no one could possibly be as unlucky as I had been when it came to having a shitty mother. I grit my teeth and picked up my drink, biting the straw as I did, irritated from the memories.
"No. They really don't."
A cell phone went off, causing Desiree to jump from the vibration plus the sound, since it was her cell phone. She made no motion to check it, so I thought I would give her the go-ahead to look at it. She wasn't obligated to continue hanging out with me, for my attempt to patch things up by buying her coffee was already done. Before I could tell her anything, however, her phone beeped again, twice in a row.
"Um, Desiree, you can check your phone, I won't think it's rude or whatever. Besides, whoever it is really seems to want to get a hold of you."
"I know... I just, I don't want to leave yet, and I know who's on the other end of-"
Desiree's phone rang this time, rather than just making a text message sound, which I guessed was what it was doing earlier, and she became exasperated with it as she picked up the phone and walked over to a corner to talk. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but she seemed very put off by whomever she was talking to. She kept clenching her fist, and I felt bad for her, wondering if it was a pesky ex-boyfriend who didn't get the hint, or an equally clingy female that Desiree might not necessarily want to grace with her company. I tried my best not to eavesdrop on her conversation since she was already on edge, but I couldn't help noticing her body language. Her shoulders slumped, she sighed heavily, and she hung her head as she spoke, finally hanging up. Thinking of what she had said before she got up to talk on the phone, I had a feeling that Desiree was going to be heading out soon. My guess was correct when she came over and grabbed her coffee with a grim expression on her face.
"Armand? I am so sorry, but I have to cut our hang out time short. I will see you around campus. Maybe next time we can meet under less awkward circumstances."
"Do you want me to walk with-"
"No, I really should go. I'm sorry."
I let Desiree walk away since she was obviously in a hurry, but I was really curious who was on the other end of the line that could have made her look so sad and... scared?
At the memorial, I was reminded again of my mother, who shared a similarity to Reese in how she died. Even though she didn't have an eating disorder, my mother did bring her death upon herself when she chose to drink and drive. It didn't surprise me that I still thought about her occasionally, but I was very grateful that the memories never lingered for very long, like they used to. I no longer got overwhelming feelings about her, and I definitely didn't drive myself crazy with self-loathing thoughts anymore. Ephemera and Dad had been keeping in touch with me despite their busy work schedules, and often times I would get a short text or email from one of them letting me know they were thinking about me. It was sweet, and I enjoyed the sentiment. I had noticed in some of the emails that Dad referred to Ephemera as Mom, and she had even signed one of hers with 'Love, Mom.' I remember it bringing a tear to my eye because I did like the fact that Ephemera felt much more like a motherly figure to me than my real mother, and I didn't mind in the slightest that she had been given that title.
This particular afternoon, I had just finished my last class of the day and I was walking to the comic book store to look at some of the drawing styles within the different comics. They inspired me with some of my assignments, both in ideas for what to draw, as well as drawing technique. I loved the comic book store, and even though I didn't consider myself a geek by the standard definition of the word, I didn't mind the environment the store provided. It was whimsical with its bright colors and interesting layout, which seemed to be a mish-mash of a bunch of different things on the surface, but when put together in one store became a cohesive collection of items. Large cardboard cutouts were placed all around the store, usually at each entrance, almost to mimic a superhero of some kind welcoming you into the doorways. I always felt at ease here, like I could completely be myself, and I really enjoyed that feeling, especially since I had felt so deprived of it in my childhood and teenage years.
The comic book store wasn't too crowded today, which I enjoyed. It was hard to browse the shelves for books when you constantly had to be worrying about trying not to step in front of someone, or accidentally elbowing them in the face as you pulled a book off the shelf. I was mindful of the other person in the aisle with me, of course, since I could sense that they were standing a little bit off to my left. I had just picked a comic off the shelf when the person bumped into me rather roughly, causing me to lose my balance and drop the book on the floor.
"HEY! Watch it!"
I felt anger rise up in my body because I was in defense mode for how hard the person had collided with me, and it almost felt like they had done it on purpose. I didn't know who would want to hit me that hard, considering I didn't really have any enemies or anything like that, but when I turned around to see who it was, my anger quickly dissipated. It was Desiree, and I suddenly felt like a complete asshole for yelling so loudly.
"I am so, so, sorry, Armand. I am a total klutz, and I don't have very good judgment of people's personal space. When I tried to get a closer look at this shelf, I was oblivious how far I had bent down. Again, I am so sorry."
"Aww, it's okay, it was an accident. I just yelled because it didn't feel like an accident when it happened, it felt like I had been run into with bad intentions."
Desiree smiled awkwardly at me, and I could tell she was still completely embarrassed by the manner with which she had bumped into me. Spotting the coffee counter behind her, I got an idea of something I could do that might make her feel more at ease. I clearly wasn't bothered as much as she was that our butts had touched. It had been an obvious accident, and it wasn't like Desiree had assaulted me or anything.
"How about we start with a clean slate? Do you like coffee? I can buy us some and we can hang out a little bit."
The expression on Desiree's face was not one I expected to see. Usually when I offered to get a girl a drink, she was more than happy to accept my offer. Desiree, however, looked pained, and I wondered if she was still just traumatized from our earlier encounter, or if she thought I was being an asshole and hitting on her.
"Are you sure you want to hang out with me? I'm not exactly grade A material. I mean, I can't even browse a store aisle properly."
"It's okay, it was an accident, but if you don't want to, it's fine, we can just go our separate ways."
I turned to walk away when she didn't respond, but all of a sudden Desiree tapped my arm, and got this pleading, anxious look on her face, clasping her hands together.
"No, no! I do want to get coffee with you, I just, I didn't know if you wanted to get some with me."
"I asked, didn't I?"
"Yes, but I do this all the time, I doubt other people's intentions, especially after I've run into them with my butt."
"Do you make a habit of running into people that way?"
"Well, no- I- um."
"Relax, it's just a joke. I was trying to lighten the mood."
Desiree's face lost its nervousness and the panic in her eyes left, while her mouth slowly turned into a smile instead of the frown she was sporting earlier.
"Oh! Okay, sure. I would love to get some coffee with you."
Desiree and I made our way to the coffee counter and were greeted by the cute blonde barista, who was very peppy. I guess it made sense since she worked around caffeine all day, she was probably able to drink a lot of it. I ordered a blended drink, while Desiree got a hot mocha.
The barista got our drinks ready and I paid, after which Desiree and I headed over to the nearest couch, which was behind us, and in front of a Big Bang Theory tv show poster. We set our drinks on the table in front of us, and smiled at each other. I looked up at the neon sign that was hanging on the wall in front of a giant poster of a city skyline that I really enjoyed. I liked pictures of large cities because they were so vibrant and alive. Appreciating my surroundings was something I had been trying to take advantage of since I had been released from the self-loathing prison I had created with the thoughts in my head.
"Thank you for-"
"So, how are-"
Desiree and I spoke at the exact same time, which caused both of us to laugh. At this point, so much awkwardness had transpired between us that it was becoming funny the more it happened. I was happy that Desiree didn't panic from it like she had earlier. As we sat on the couch together, with her laughing, I noticed that she did have a rather nice smile, on the rare occasion that she did smile. Earlier when I had talked to her, both on this day, and the day I saved her from Reese, I felt like she was either panicked and anxious, or sad and upset. By observing her, I got some insight into what it might have been like for others to talk to me back when I rarely smiled.
"Ladies first."
"Thank you for the coffee. I actually haven't, um, a guy hasn't bought me anything in a long time. I think the last person who did was sometime in high school."
"You're welcome. I don't date much either. Guess we have that in common. So, how was your day?"
"Oh, the usual, I had class, and I come here to hang out when I don't feel like going back home."
"I see. This is a fun place to be, isn't it? I get inspired by all the bright colors and artwork showcased in the comic books."
Desiree shifted in her seat, leaning forward to sip some of her mocha, and then coming back to look at me. She was a lot more calm now than the bumbling mess she had just been when she ran into me in the aisle. I wondered what was causing her nervousness earlier, but I guessed it was just the inappropriateness of the situation, and her feeling like she had embarrassed herself so immensely.
"I like art too. I enjoy creating something, like a sculpture, and then painting it with spray paint."
"Oh, that's cool. I usually use a paint and paintbrush on a canvas. Otherwise, pen or pencil in a sketchbook works too when I'm just doodling and trying to get ideas."
"Yeah, I know. Spray paint has been given a bad connotation, like it's the medium of gang-bangers who deface and vandalize things. I don't know why I like it, I just do. Plus it's not like I am trying to paint graffiti on buildings."
I looked at Desiree, unsure why she had just gotten so defensive. Had I said something to make her think I hated spray paint? Her voice had taken on a tone of slight irritation, as if she had often needed to argue her case for what she liked to do. I supposed maybe it had something to do with her getting bullied constantly, which she had revealed to me the first time we met. She was definitely an interesting girl, and I could tell she wasn't trying to be strange, or actually yell at me. I must have been looking at her too long without responding because the next thing I knew, Desiree was apologizing profusely again.
"Ugh, I'm so sorry, Armand, I didn't mean to snap at you about spray paint. It's just that I get lots of flak for enjoying it, and I've been called a lot of names for liking it, so I feel like I have to justify my love of it constantly. Gah, how many times have I put my foot in my mouth today? I hate being like this, I'm just so, so awkward, I'm such an awkward person, I just-"
I put my hand on Desiree's arm to try to comfort her somewhat because I sensed that she was starting to ramble from nervousness. Desiree responded by trailing off and smiling at me.
"Desiree... it's okay. I wasn't judging your love of spray paint, and I'm sorry other people have. I was just curious why you were so defensive about it. My lack of response was because I was trying to figure out if anything I had said could be interpreted as such."
"Oh. Well. Thank you, for not judging me."
"You're welcome. I used to get that a lot from my mother, so I know how small it can make a person feel. I'd never want to do that to anyone else."
"I see. I'm sorry that happened to you. Parents are supposed to love you unconditionally, but they don't always do, do they?"
Desiree got a far away look in her eyes when she mentioned parents, and I wondered if she had experienced something similar to what I had. Then I thought no one could possibly be as unlucky as I had been when it came to having a shitty mother. I grit my teeth and picked up my drink, biting the straw as I did, irritated from the memories.
"No. They really don't."
A cell phone went off, causing Desiree to jump from the vibration plus the sound, since it was her cell phone. She made no motion to check it, so I thought I would give her the go-ahead to look at it. She wasn't obligated to continue hanging out with me, for my attempt to patch things up by buying her coffee was already done. Before I could tell her anything, however, her phone beeped again, twice in a row.
"Um, Desiree, you can check your phone, I won't think it's rude or whatever. Besides, whoever it is really seems to want to get a hold of you."
"I know... I just, I don't want to leave yet, and I know who's on the other end of-"
Desiree's phone rang this time, rather than just making a text message sound, which I guessed was what it was doing earlier, and she became exasperated with it as she picked up the phone and walked over to a corner to talk. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but she seemed very put off by whomever she was talking to. She kept clenching her fist, and I felt bad for her, wondering if it was a pesky ex-boyfriend who didn't get the hint, or an equally clingy female that Desiree might not necessarily want to grace with her company. I tried my best not to eavesdrop on her conversation since she was already on edge, but I couldn't help noticing her body language. Her shoulders slumped, she sighed heavily, and she hung her head as she spoke, finally hanging up. Thinking of what she had said before she got up to talk on the phone, I had a feeling that Desiree was going to be heading out soon. My guess was correct when she came over and grabbed her coffee with a grim expression on her face.
"Armand? I am so sorry, but I have to cut our hang out time short. I will see you around campus. Maybe next time we can meet under less awkward circumstances."
"Do you want me to walk with-"
"No, I really should go. I'm sorry."
I let Desiree walk away since she was obviously in a hurry, but I was really curious who was on the other end of the line that could have made her look so sad and... scared?
Posts
