II. Lonely Heart

I stayed up half the night trying to figure out what I would say. Melissa was the outgoing one. She would simply walk up to him and just “take him”—envision that how you will. I couldn’t do that. I hadn’t tried since fifth grade and ended up stuttering my way through it all, but recovered as he had gone into a sneezing fit, nearly blacked out and went to the school nurse.

Needless to say, nothing became of that and he moved away at the end of the year so we could never “try again” as others had over the years of liking, hating, infatuating, loathing and then on to speaking terms in high school.

Next to Melissa, I was a wall-flower, a lamppost on the side of the road watching everyone speed past. That was okay, I mean, love is over-rated in books and movies but the feeling of being left at home on a Saturday night reading chemistry book for an assignment that’s not due until Wednesday can gnaw on your heart.

I admit, I had that feeling in the past and, most likely, I’d have it again, but maybe for a few days I could feel the euphoria of someone likening me. Yes, that sounds one-sided, and so much like the girl in a bad vampire romance novel but I wanted it. I didn’t fully know love but I knew what I liked on the outside.

“Maybe he’s not a nice guy on the inside,” I whispered to myself. I could meet him, say a few things and see that he wasn’t worth the hours I spent over nothing.

I shot up from my bed and paced back and forth a few times before looking at the clock. I had seven hours before I had to go to school. That wouldn’t be enough time to think about everything.

I slept the entire ride to school, even with Melissa gunning the engine. The fog in my brain was so thick I wasn’t sure I could even walk. Melissa said nothing, at least I wasn’t sure if she said anything because she was gone when I woke up, still in the car with my neck in painful position.
I got out of the car, grabbed my backpack, and then stretched out before closing the door. Fortunately, no one had walked by at that point. In fact, it was very quiet. The buses were not our in front of the school and there was no one across the street at the smoke hole.

My watch read eight-thirty. First period had started thirty minutes prior.

“Crap.”

What You Want

I used the library to hide out, partially due to the fear of coming into class late, and also because I could lay my head down and sleep a few more minutes. My stowaway was in the back near the magazine rack, as there was an alcove that was just big enough—assuming one was limber—to squeeze in and not be seen unless someone was looking right at the area.

I thought too long about why I had stayed up all night as the bell ending first period rang and I had to wipe the sleep from my eyes and force a smile on my tired and zombified face. I took a deep breath, walked out of the library and stepped into the current of students long enough to reach my locker.

I opened the door and felt a presence behind me. Usually it was Melissa, waiting to either clap her hands in front of my face as I turned around or it was someone asking me if they could borrow my homework for Spanish II.

I glanced around my shoulder and the person moved slightly out of eyesight so I had to run around. If it was Melissa I was going to slap her for leaving me in the car earlier.

It wasn’t her, but it was him, Stephen.

“Don’t think we met but I think I know you.”

“Haven’t heard that one before,” I replied.
“Sorry, old hat?”
“No, seriously I have’t heard that before. It was new.”
“Well, your sister talked with me yesterday.”
I only nodded.
“Okay, well, I like to say I have this rehearsed, but I don’t, so—Would you like to go to the game with me on Friday?”
“Game?”
“Basketball.”
Reardan was known for it’s Basketball. The boys and and girls team would trade off stellar seasons. Sometimes the girls’ games were rougher, rowdier and louder than the boys’ team. That Friday night would be the girls team with Reardan versus Davenport, his old school
“Yeah, sure.”
“Granted it’s not a really outstanding first date.”
“Date?”
“Too soon? Can I rewind it a little and try again?”
“No, it’s fine. Casual, right?”
“Yes, except I have to give you this.”
He handed over a multi-folded piece of paper. I tried to hide my surprise as I seldom ever received such a missive and as as much as I wanted to open it right there, we had to get to our own classes.
“Thank you.”
“Just to let you know, it’s a beginning, it’s like a training wheels are off and I’ve fallen down a couple of hundred times kind of thing.”
“How about we meet at lunch?”
“Here?”
“Sure,” I replied as the bell to second period chimed.
“Great. See you later, Clarissa.”
I pocketed the note and went back to finding my notebooks and binder for Spanish.
I left the note in my pocket during class because Mrs. Daiglar was known for picking up such foreign pieces of basura, as she would call it before throwing it away, so I dared not opening it. I had to wonder what was on it though. An epic sonnet? Some outlandish limerick or a overly-sappy romantic-ish poem put together in a crazy and mad rush of emotion. The kind where you have to wonder if the writer is either crazy or he’s all there, but the recipient just isn’t seeing it.

I excused myself from class to go to the restroom and stopped short of opening the drop. Instead, my head was buried in the note:

“A Letter from Anonymous
I sign my name this way, for I cannot tell you who I am I will not say for you may not care. You won’t hear
Me...my cry...for you...so dear
Anonymous
A name, a phrase, doesn’t matter it’s still a praise
To you, it is...I’ll repeat
To me, you’re the one who is sweet
Anonymous
Would you hear me if I was to call
Would you listen, if my words were to stumble and fall?
Anonymous
I sign my name this way.”

I stood motionless for a few minutes, trying to make sense of the feelings that were overcoming me. Did I want to cry? Scream? Stay in a stupor of emotions?
Yes, to all of the above.

It wasn’t that the words were upsetting but in how much they were like a mirror on myself. I know he didn’t study me or ask around—as there was no one except Melissa who really “knew” me. Well, that’s not entirely true: if you saw Melissa, then you knew Clarissa was the opposite so while she would reach out and take what she wanted I had to shuffle back and mentally talk myself out of everything.

“Are you alright?”
I only nodded as I stood next to my locker.
“Are you sure, I mean, did I say anything to upset you?”
I shook my head and continued to look at the words.
“It’s very…”
“…Bad?”
“No, it sounds lonely.”
“It’s what I call “being the lamp post.”
“How so?” I asked as I looked up to this face.
“I’d stand on the side of the street or the hallway, like we are now, and just look at life. Not living it, but just watching. Some days I thought that I should bring some Jujyfruits and some popcorn and I just continue spectating life. I was going to do that until a few days ago when I finally got the strength to talk, or maybe better put, to write to you.”
“Thank you.”
“I mean, I’m asking the world to be a part of yours, for as long as you’ll want me.”

There were reasons I was never asked to go to a dance or even out on dates: I was afraid to ask anyone. That and Melissa would get to them first and—due to our physical similarities—the guys would not separate us as two different people and the ones I kind of liked…well, they’d ignore me.

“I am willing to stand at your side or let you lead.”
I folded the noted and put it in my pocket.
“I know, I’m…weird. I’m crazy.”
“Welcome to my club.”