Till We Rise (9 page)

Or maybe it’s just a combination of all the factors I have just thought about. People think I am weird. We’re grabbing hands. He’s hot. I am soaked and weird. That’s it. Endpoint.

As I act like the fact that me grabbing a boy’s hand is completely normal, I also feel kind of awkward just because I am beside him. Plus: I met him days ago and I literally told him I wanted us to run away together.

Does he like me? What does he see in me? Is he truly into me or what? I don’t know, but what had happened minutes earlier made me feel a little bit odd about our relationship or whatever we are. I put myself in an I-am-completely-in-love position, which honestly I am. Let’s pretend I’ve never said that.

I truly don’t get why Theo approached me while there are lots of other girls –even hot ones, not cows like me–he can be with or talk to or even have some weird affair if he wants to. But for some reason I believe he got involved with me, because I am weak. We are both weak and we try to show ourselves as strong persons but I know –and he knows too – that we aren’t.

“I have to go,” he says all of a sudden, scared.

“Um… Okay?” I mutter “See you later or…?” I ask him pretty shyly. I am again scared of his answer. What if he doesn’t want to and I am kind of compelling him to do something he does not want to do? I am such an idiot.

“Yeah. I’ll text you as soon as I, uh, get out of class,” he says while I look at him perplexed.

It’s funny. Everything is funny and weird at the same fucking time.

“Fine,” I say pretty unconvinced. “See you later,” I add and turn around before we both part towards our determined classes.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I decide not to pay attention at what’s going on in the class because my head is messed up and all I can think about is that
one
thing.

I am getting tired of college and all this bullshit thing about getting good grades for about four years average straight and taking charge of my own things without my mom or a teacher, who always helped me –and everyone who needed help– with the homework and the work in class, such as the math exercises I was never capable of starting or the interminable essays about history or that shit I am not interested in, at all.

Now I have to take care of my stuff and it's hard, you know. It's hard when you don't give a fuck and all you want to do is run away as fast as you can and as far as you manage to go.

I don't feel like a part of
this
anymore. I don't even know what is the aim or the importance of getting a degree in Cultural Studies I am not even interested in and never was. I hate professors and college. I even hate cars too, which emphasizes my hatred for college because obviously, I have to spend ten minutes of my life in some metal, expensive and stupid box with doors and wheels just to get to a place where I am alone. Well, I am not actually alone but that's what I feel, to be honest, and being surrounded by people and feeling alone is the worst type of loneliness.

"Von Steemberg." I finally come back to planet earth because of this professor I haven't even looked at yet.

I am tired of listening to my surname every time I am in class, like, I barely bother in here. I don’t know what the matter with all of them is.

Oh, yes, now I see; Ms. Morgan. A grown-up widow that doesn't even know what the hell she has to teach the students. She is the one who is supposed to talk about Plato and Aristotle's —she is the philosophy teacher, obviously— but instead she talks about cakes and muffins and stuff that has anything to do with the subject. Plus: it makes students want to die because of the food part. Ms. Morgan should be working at a bakery instead of working at this college a.k.a. Jail.

"Yes?" I ask seconds later because of my fatigue on answering her. By the way, she only screamed my name and I thought she was going to ask me to give her my lunch or whatever I have to eat.

It amazes me that she even said that Plato in Spanish means
plate
, like the plate where people TEND TO EAT.

Our conversation isn't going to have sense at all, so I don't care.

"Are you listening to what I'm saying?" she is looking at me like an old grandma, exactly like when you don't want to eat the soup she has made especially for you.

I don't even care to move or to look at her in a better way, like trying to say
yes I am Ms. Morgan
with my body language.

"Right now, I am," I say.

"Well, well, well, lady. So you can tell me what I was just saying..." she speaks.

You might have beem talking about how tasty the lemon pie you tried yesterday was.

I think I am going to stand up and punch her in the middle of her face. Since when I am so violent? Lately people make me act this way.

As soon as she asked me that, I was about to tell her that her class was about anything but what should be about, because, let’s be honest, philosophy is like a break; she never taught us something coherent and she makes me want to eat my own fingers because of (1) how much she love food and (2) how much she talks about it and finally, (3) I feel slightly disgusted by her, so eating my fingers wouldn't be a bad idea.

"Really?" I inquire without wanting to speak.

"Really what?" Ms. Morgan pauses for a pair of seconds waiting for me to answer "Yes, really," she repeats.

"Are you going to do this at college?" I take a deep breath. "That's what I meant; really? Are you making me repeat what you've said at college? It's stupid" I kind of get even madder than I should but I know I AM RIGHT.

I am here supposedly because I want to be here and if I cared about my career I wouldn't have had a fight with every single person in here. They don't help at all, they are all dorks and I like to pick up fights from time to time.

"Or maybe if you weren't thinking about your boyfriend this conversation would've never existed," she places one hand over the professors desk and stares with a look of suspect directly at me.

What the hell did she say?

"
Uh uh, I don't have a boyfriend, Ms. Morgan," suddenly I feel respect towards her because I am absolutely embarrassed, but at the same time I feel excited about the fact that she thought Theodore was my boyfriend. Maybe Professor Morgan isn't the only one who thinks that way.

I realize everyone is looking and talking about me —I guess— because of the way they are looking.

Who would have ever thought people would talk about me? The best part: they are talking about me because of Theodore. Even better: they think he is my boyfriend.

Great! Best day ever! I don't know either to start smiling or to cry on the floor while everybody is looking at me because THEY KEEP STARING, God.

I realize Ms. Morgan starts to walk towards my direction and coughs, making everybody silent. She sighs and finally speaks "If you don't know what this class is about I offer you to walk away," she smiles with disguise and gently grabs her hands, waiting for an answer.

"You are making me a favor," I speak.

It would be really a favor if she has asked for me to leave but she always does the same to every student who isn't paying attention. She gets a little bit offended about the fact that nobody is interested in how she is trying to communicate her knowledge to teenagers that only are into pot and sex, from which I was told. I have never done any of those so I am not even a part of the group of teenagers I am making in my head.

"What do you mean? Don't make me call the principal, Von Steemberg," Ms. Morgan claims and I feel a little bit threatened because probably she knows that I've had a row with him days ago and they spoke about it and now she wants to scare me, whatever. I really don't care about anything at this moment of my life.

I remain silent until I gather myself up in order to be able to say something to her. I say that it's okay, that I am sorry and that it won't happen again and pretend that I am now paying attention because sincerely, I don't want to face Mr. Abernathy ever again in my entire life.

• • •

Hours pass and teachers come by and walk away and I still don't know what I have been taught in the whole freaking day. I think I can't be more moved about it, literally, I feel like a cactus –piece of total useless crap— right now, a fetus, a stone, nothing; a flea is even more relevant than myself at the moment.

Suddenly, I feel a vibration on my ass left cheek and it appears to be my phone. I've decided earlier to put it on vibrate mode though I never do that, honestly.

I take it out from my pocket, with a little bit of discretion and find out that I have a new message from
him.
It says: OUT.

I stand up and start walking "I'm not feeling okay, I think I should be going," I tell whoever is giving the class at the moment, and without hesitation and without knowing what the hell he or she answered me, I leave the miserable class.

I know Theodore’s classes always end up first than mines because he has less workload than me and that is why I will always have to skip my last two or three classes on a regular college basis. I don't mind doing that, to be honest, I am capable of doing the impossible for him, don't ask me why.

As I walk down the corridor I realize there are not a lot of students surrounding me. Weird, considering Theodore appears to just have ended his class and his
buddies
or class mates should be around here somewhere.

But no, I am walking by myself and I find it absolutely strange. The corridors are always full of people running and shouting which makes me want to die since I kind of hate being among a big group of people because of the way it makes me feel; helpless. I am always by myself and if they are moving fast from a place to another it also makes me feel nauseous and wanting to pull a trigger over my head. I am being a little exaggerated, I know.

Besides the fact I find strange this no-people situation I am also mortified because I am going to see him again and I have social phobia. Whenever I am near someone I have the urge to poo, seriously.

I approach the entrance hall and, taking a deep breath, I open with kindness the big and heavy door.

There he is; standing with his hands inside the pockets of his jeans, looking like a high couture model, he could definitely model because he is tall and handsome enough to do the job. He is also lying on one side of his body by the stairs railing. I want to take out my phone and take a picture of this instant moment because, let me tell you, it’s perfect. Not really perfect, as I said before, I am that type of person that doesn’t believe in perfection, but if there was a possibility of something being “perfect”, I am sure he would be one of the group, or at least he would be even closer than Leo Di Caprio on Titanic and hell yeah, that man is sexy as hell so imagine how Theodore looks like.

I approach him gently and noiselessly because I want to surprise him but I don’t know how. It’s nice because he is looking cute and he is waiting for me, and both things together make me feel loved. I just want to run towards him and embrace him, filling his face with little kisses and giggle and laugh together as in movies but then I remember again that I am Calypso, the girl with no fortune, and I feel pretty retracted about what I was about to do. So instead, I sigh and keep walking slowly.

“Oh, hi there,” he turns around and says a little bit scared. Not
actually
scared but the nice kind of scared, like the I-am-happy-to-see-you scared. We smile together and it makes me feel embraced, full of warmth.

“Hello, Theodore,” I speak nicely, wishing my happiness isn’t showing as much as I am feeling it.

“How was your day now?” he states. “Don’t guess, please tell me the truth,” he adds and I freeze. I can’t tell him everything that has happened but I won’t lie to him either.

“Bad, to be honest. I always argue with every single professor about stupid stuff,” I sigh dolefully. I am not hurt or sad at all, I am acting a little bit. “What about yours?” I inquire before he can say a word. He was about to say something but I don’t want to talk about me at all.

“Uh, yeah, same as yours,” Theo stops for a second, he seems thoughtful and it makes me want to know everything he has inside that lovely mind of his. “What is wrong with professors? They are cool, y’know,” he seems speechless and so unconvinced; I know he is hiding something. I have this feeling of awkwardness and I hate it.

“They aren’t, Theo. And… Uh… you said
same as yours
, meaning what?” I put both my hands over my waist, it seems I am talking to him as if I was his girlfriend, but he isn’t reacting in a wrong way so everything seems good to me.

“What do you mean? What are you doing?” He asks seriously.
Shit, I was wrong
. His face changes completely and I feel that mine does too.

“Uh, nothing. Just asking.” Wrong, fail, LIE. I am not JUST asking, I am seriously asking.

“Woah, okay. Don’t get defensive, I am kidding,” he giggles and smiles. “Your face, it’s okay, Cal. I am kidding, huh,” he grabs my waist and gives me a hug, embracing every single part of my body, sending me shivers down my spine. I was all tensed up and now I am relieved. He pulls apart smiling Theodore-style.

“I meant I also argued with some professors today,” when he speaks he does it softly, with little pauses and really calmed. If he is not joking, he is always calmed and speaking with a nice tone of voice.

I am amazed he also had an argument with a professor because he is gentle, polite and all the nice adjectives in the world.

“Really? Why?” I inquire pretty doubtfully. “You’re not that type of person,” I admit looking at the floor; I don’t feel like staring at him at this moment.

“What type of person am I?” Theo raises his eyebrows while crooking his smile and I realize that I kind of forgot we are standing at the entrance hall which it’s pretty odd and strange.

“Huh?” Theo voices.

“What?” I say.

“What type of person am I?” he repeats with the exact tone of voice he did before.

“You know.” I am blushing and look like a tomato right now. “You are you.” I look away afraid of my redness.

“Don’t do that with me, Calypso,” Theo mumbles and grabs my shoulder tenderly, making me look directly at him, introducing myself into his eyes. I know it sounds wrong and bizarre but it feels literally like that, life if I am getting into his eyes. They are so dark but soft at the same time. Like a black fur; his eyes are not necessarily black but brown. The point of the black fur is that it’s the darkest it can be but the nicest it can feel.

“Do what?” I say innocently.

“That,” he says.

“What?”

“Oh, God. THAT,” he screams laughing. “You act as if you don’t know what I am talking about.”