ngry Guilt
Copyright 2011 Elsha Hawk
Photo by: Mandy Schütze
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This story is purely fictional.
I feigned happiness as I took huge bites of my sandwich. Amber had no idea how peeved I was inside. I tried to give my friend at least 75% of my undivided attention. But my eyes kept wandering across the cafeteria to him.
Amidst a gaggle of girls sat the guy who had the power to change my day from cheery to dark in two seconds. How I loathed the girls he gave attention to! How I longed for one glance from him! What I thought was once an easy friendship over a chemistry lab project, had turned an ugly shade of green and soured my mood for the whole week.
My stomach macerated the food as angrily as my heart pounded out death threats into my brain. On the outside, I smiled and nodded and took gulps of my soda while Amber spoke about her latest date with Steven.
Inside, all I could think about was my own jealous misery. I felt like I’d been cheated on. And worst of all, more than this non-relationship having a hold on my heart, was the thought that I may have caused my own troubles. It was an angry guilt and I didn’t know how to get rid of it.
Mrs. Ziebar assigned lab partners by passing out playing cards. You had to find the person with the same number. I got the 2 of hearts. He had the 2 of clubs. In retrospect, how fitting.
I knew nothing about him, but he looked like he could care less about chemistry. He slouched in his chair, not getting up to find a lab partner but waiting for one to come to him. He was too suave to be eager. Bad boys who thought they were the best gift ever to womankind could flatter me, but I’d never fall in love with one.
So I thought.
His eyes would smolder as I explained the equations to him. I pretended not to notice. He preferred to ask me intellectual questions, either to test me, or to taunt me, I wasn’t really sure. I did know that my often sarcastic answers were flirting. He never studied, but one day I spied an A on his test. He hid it.
I think he smokes in his car on school property during 3rd period. He’s clearly not my type!
Then why does it hurt so much to witness his very public, very flirtacious, casual petting of other girls?
Second period chemistry remained the highlight of my morning; stealing his attention for 50 minutes of the day, my secret victory. Man, was he good at appearing unavailable-but-still-looking. He flirted with all the girls, his posture lounging open to all who would sneak glances his way. He would grin at the right time, move with deliberate casualness. It was art in motion to watch his hand adjust a stray hair out of his eyes.
I had no idea if he really had a girlfriend and was too reserved to ask. What would he think of me? I decided if I said anything out of character, the game was over. I did not want the game to be over!
“So, are we melting pennies today?”
“Something like that. Hand me the beaker.”
“Please?” he taunted.
“Please.” I stated, trying hard not to make eye contact, or I would blush. “And thank you.”
“You. Are. Welcome.”
It took everything I had not to shudder with pleasure.
Me, I Am Welcome!
I understood that there would always be a girl easier to catch than I. Plenty of girls had been caught up in his gaze, and like moths to a flame, they flirted with him, desired him, had him, and then left him, all of them burned.
This is what kept me sane: the knowledge that I could be turned into damaged goods in the span of a few hours one night. It seemed rather low for me to stoop: to lower my standards from someone who would love me, and me only, to someone who would leave me for the next pair of knockers.
From my seat at the table across from Amber, I watched him give a shoulder squeeze to a girl who had been teased by the rest of the crowd of wannabe girlfriends. She looked at her feet in humility and blushed. The other girls then all chorused with forgiving giggles as they made up with her. In no way would they dare to upset their prized King. Whatever they had said was not joking, even if they made it seem that way to Him. I wondered if he knew? The warning bell rang and he walked the girl to her class with his arm still draped over her shoulders as if to say she was still special. I’m glad my next class was in the other direction.
Yet as soon as he was out of my sight, I knew I wanted to be the owner of those shoulders.
The next day, Amber sat in front of a small stack of prom magazines at our lunch table. She went on and on about how Steven had asked her and how I needed a date and a dress because I could NOT miss my senior prom.
“I’ll just go stag. I can still dance, and who knows, maybe Mr. Right will sweep me off my feet!” I mocked her infatuation with the school tradition.
“I’ll find you a date! What do you like? Tall, dark and handsome? Fair and slight? Fire-y red-heads with a flair for drama?”
I laughed at her, then got serious. “Know what, Amber?” I paused for dramatic effect.
“What?” She looked eager to hear my choices so she could shop for a date for me.
“I want someone who thinks the sun revolves around me. Can you find a guy so into me, that his attentions will flatter me, make me feel special, for once?”
“Whoa. Chill out! I mean, I know what it’s like to Want so much, but girl, you need to relax!”
I took a chomp out of my sandwich, my eyes wandering to his table. I spied him quickly averting his eyes. My heart skipped a beat. Had he been looking at me?! Surely not.
Tempting though it was, I could not bring myself to look at him again for the remainder of what felt like a very long lunch. Amber prattled on, but I didn’t hear. The assorted hoots and howls of a high school cafeteria resounded and echoed off tile and table, but I took no heed.
My head was lost in labyrinths of fantasies I could barely acknowledge; which is why I nearly ran into someone as I went to toss my trash. Looking up, my eyes met his, dark orbs containing endless depths of misery and ecstasy.
My stomach seized. My eyes went blurry. My tongue felt swollen in a mouth suddenly devoid of saliva.
I moved to go left as he moved to go right. He corrected back left as I tried the right. Urg, the dance! wailed my subconscious critic, alarmingly present and conscious.
Without missing a beat he shot a wicked Prince Charming grin, “Here, allow me.” Before I could utter something witty or embarrassing, he’d palmed by brown paper sack and tossed it over his shoulder. With that, he was gone, though my blush remained.
I couldn’t believe Amber didn’t see that! But since I didn’t want her making a big deal about how I should ask him to prom, I just swallowed the whole scene. This was unfortunate because I needed someone to help me interpret his moves. What did that MEAN?
My heart raced through Math, and thankfully in English we only watched the video of the Odyssey, because I could not have remembered a single word. I felt for Odysseus’ wife. Society was forcing her to choose another man, just like Amber wants me to choose a prom date. But Penelope stayed firm, and so could I.
Traditions and rules be damned! My Odysseus will sail the seven seas for me!
I told Amber I would go shopping for a gown with her, but she had to promise not to set me up with anyone. She squirmed and silently chewed her lip the whole car ride home. She really wanted to play matchmaker.
A sedan zoomed by my driveway, green papers flying out the windows. Amber picked one up.
“Prom Afterparty, 12 to 3AM, 455 Stultz Ave, garage band. Be there.”
I was staring after that car. Was the driver..?? Nah.
The next two weeks were a blur. H
e was absent a few days, which made me sad, but it also gave me time to clear my head. I aced three tests and two papers, securing a 4.0 for the final semester of my life as a high schooler.
But it felt like the end of a long race in which I was a full lap ahead. There was no satisfying battle for the finish. It made me uneasy. Things should not be this smooth; this was too good to be true. I began looking for a complication.
Chemistry labs were over, and though he returned to class, I could not spin sarcastic webs of words laced with flirtacious undertones. He sat one row behind me. I felt his eyes boring into the back of my head for the entire period, though I dared not turn around to challenge them.
My prom dress hung on the back of my bedroom door. It was worthy of turning a few heads, but all I could think about was the one head I wanted to turn. I imagined his jaw dropping, his slow steps heading right toward me, ignoring whomever he was just talking to.
Who am I kidding?
Prom night was full of the hullabaloo we all expect, photos, gushing moms, make-up, corsages, and deep, thrumming bass echoing out into the evening from a packed gymnasium made up to look like we were inside a champagne glass.
It’s not that I didn’t laugh nor dance, but the slo-mo, head-turning moment didn’t occur. I caught a glimpse of him once, headed to the door with a group of his smoking buddies. So anti-climactic.
As the last slow dance came to its close, I found myself outside looking at the stars.
“That was awesome! Didn’t you have a great time?!” Amber gushed, sweeping me into her car with Steven. She giggled so much, I didn’t have to answer.
“Let’s see about this after party!” The car pounded out a heavy bass that set off alarms in parked vehicles while Amber bounced in her seat. Steve kissed her at stoplights.
When the flyer said garage, it meant garage. A band played loudly, made up of senior guys who thought they could play something loosely called music. The yard was packed with peers and beers. I soon lost Amber and Steve.
I began to feel hungry and spied a table of finger foods. It had been picked over already. Grabbing a bag of chips I didn’t entirely hate, and grabbing a cup of beer to blend in, I turned and came face to face with him.
“Nice party, huh?” He grinned like he created parties.
“Uh.. yeah.”
“I sure can throw one!” He grinned and looked off into the space above my head. Eye contact would have made me blush, so I was glad. Then it dawned on me that this was no mere boast.
“Wait, this is YOUR house?”
“Yeah.” He tried to look humble. Too late, Mr. Smooth. He cleared his throat. I had no idea what he would say next. An awkward moment passed. Suddenly he was too close. I began to sweat.
“I can’t do this,” I blurted, finally breaking character.
“Do what?” He was surprised.
“Lie to myself. There’s no way I can feel like this about someone who doesn’t like me back.” I looked steadily at the table of food.
“Hold up. If you feel strongly about this person, TELL THEM. Maybe they haven’t had the guts to tell you they secretly like you back.”
“I can’t just walk up and say, hey I’m secretly in love with you!” I glanced up at him to read his expression. His eyes were soft and his grin softer.
“Don’t think, just act.” His voice was velvet. I began to swim in his presence, held in the soft trance of his eyes.
“What?”
He leaned in and kissed me.
I was shocked. Was this real?
A million universes collided in that kiss. A million emotions raced through my veins on waves of adrenaline, emotions I never knew I had.
He disconnected his lips from mine. Then he quietly and slowly walked away, like he didn’t know what else to do.
As the world became one spinning ball under my feet again, I realized that in order for our worlds to really connect, there would have to be massive change.
I think it was the cigarette taste he left in my mouth that did it. Blinking, I stared into my red plastic cup full of beer. I had been contemplating drinking it, just to be normal, before the kiss. But now, I poured it all out onto the ground.
It was fun pining after him, wishing to be the beautiful bird on his arm, but it was time I found someone worth my being his arm candy. I could no longer see him in the crowd. I wished him well.
Amber rushed over.
“Hey! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! They say the cops are on the way! We gotta go!”
I ran with her to the car, smiling.
Best. Party. Ever.