This is the beginning of a story I am composing. Is it so strange that it is sort of about my Algebra teacher? I am writing it in a series of Vignettes, “bite sized chapters” Mr. Alcindor called them. [Oh and to Halli: If you are reading this, don’t be freaked out, hahahaha, I just thought this one aspect of his life seemed interesting. You’ll read it later.] Anyway, enjoy:
A Lullaby for He without dreams
[I am telling this story on behalf of a man I know, a teacher. He is secretive, intelligent, and playful. I do not know a lot about him, but from what I do know, I can fill in the blanks. This shall be a story about being young and careless; a story about walking blindfolded into the warm darkness of life.]
B for Blue, B for Beautiful
Her head fell slightly to one side, letting her blonde hair fall behind the auditorium seat. She shifted, and continued to listen to the college counselor whose tummy rippled as he walked across the stage. Sometimes she would throw her head back and laugh silently at the witty jokes, but her eyes were closed most of the time, head rested on her left palm. Her white, soft cheeks cushioned the slight smile that grazed her lips. She looked like was daydreaming about something wonderful.
My notebook lay bare across my lap, my pen ready to vomit—but I left them untouched, and continued to examine this beautiful creature. I am not one to be easily infatuated, but one morning I happened to pass by her; the angle of the streaming sunlight was just enough to illuminate the azure infinity that floated in her eyes. I was instantly captivated by that never-ending sky and gravity was no longer an issue for me.
Unlock the Voice box
My University’s cafeteria was unnecessarily gigantic. There were large windows displaying the apple pie-colored trees of Boston’s campus. Its immenseness drove me to my two-seater in the far corner, closest to the door. I was happy here of course; the trashcan was to my left, the door to my right. You could say I was a sort of loner, but I did have friends from my fraternity. I preferred my lunch in solitude.
I noticed a large group of students enter the cafeteria that I didn’t usually see. It was very likely that they existed on the other side of the cafeteria. I stood up to throw out my crumpled sandwich wrapper, when I saw her swiftly enter the cafeteria, passing me, creating a luscious and intoxicating breeze.
This was the point in time when I decided to explore the rest of the world.
So I, not wanting to leave just yet, purchased a large hazelnut coffee and walked on, proceeding to enter the unbeaten path (well, for me, at least.)
I stood at the boundary, paused the song “Californication” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and stuffed my I-Pod into my bag. It was not difficult to find her.
She sat alone, surprisingly, with a thick notebook and a chemistry textbook on the chair beside her.
Go on. Just ask to sit with her. I knew I couldn’t do it. Not like that.
Then, the most peculiar thing happened. As I was about to quickly walk past her table, she turned to pull something out from her purse, when her elbow pushed her coffee and it toppled and exploded on the floor. My black shoes did not anticipate the incoming tidal wave of hot hazelnut coffee.
“Oh God! I’m so sorry!” She frantically got up and threw two napkins onto the puddle.
I told her not to worry, and stepped out of the brown pond upon the blue floor. “I needed to wash these shoes anyway,” I laughed. I walked to get more napkins and helped wipe up the mess. Nobody seemed to care, anyway. She thanked me and smiled, this time showing the place where her words took refuge.
“This is the second time this happened to me this week. Last Monday no one bothered to help. It was really nice of you to do that.” She said, softly. I smiled.
“Here. Take my coffee—it’s hazelnut too. I promise I didn’t drink it yet or anything, in case you’re grossed out by stuff like that.” I ranted a bit and felt embarrassed.
“Aw, thank you! It’s too much, really. Thank you.” A hint of tiredness floated in the air between us, soon to be whisked away by laughter and the forging of a friendship. My coffee stained shoes squeaked as they faced her white-laced flats; we talked and laughed about the unfunny fat man. I realized she held the key to my voice box.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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