Different Minds

by Joyce E. Rayess

  A terrible sad mood haunted our lunch meeting as Elionora spoke about Mom. She said they used to be very close and even roommates. The one thing that really got me sad was her question if Mom was happy before she died. I didn’t really know how to answer that. Was she happy at home? Maybe not, but was she happy in her life? I think she was. I do remember her frequent laugh and sense of humor. Mom was like a teenager who was just a mother; she loved life more than any one of us at home.

  “I don’t know about the day she died,” I said in a low voice. “But I think she was happy because she and Aunt Mary were always happy when they were together. Mom was a happy person.” I smiled.

  “Yes, she was,” Elionora followed. “And you are her daughter, a happy person.” She tried to convince me, and I maintained that smile for a moment before we both resumed eating.

  I asked Elionora almost everything about Mom: if she liked sleeping, where her favorite place on earth was, what her favorite food was, what she wanted to do in her life, which was her favorite band. I knew almost all the answers for every question I asked, but I just wanted to remind myself of her by any possible means.

  Somewhere around the end of lunch I looked into my backpack and saw the edge of the book I had stolen; the word Sleeping was very persuasive. I thought perhaps the book was educational, maybe teaching ways to actually find deep and long sleep. Elionora suggested that I not resume work at the library today if I had finished arranging most of the books. However, her suggestion was conditional to my joining her and her fiancé that night for the opening of their school academy for music and dance, at seven. I agreed although I knew nothing about music or dancing. My closest contact with music was hearing it.

  As I stepped out of the restaurant, I wanted to go to my room and start reading the book, but first I had to register it under my name. I crossed the street into the library, quickly heading to the counter desk so I could undergo the process and leave immediately. Suddenly a wave of nausea hit me at the sight of Eric leaning on the counter, pointing with his finger at the lady’s nose as if he were about to lose his temper.

  “The book was there yesterday. Now I’m telling you…” He swallowed as if trying to swallow his anger “…If you’re saying that no one borrowed it, then tell me where it is.”

  The counter lady looked as if she had seen a ghost. She repeated while looking at the screen, “I told you, second floor, science section, alphabetical order L, Long Sleeping.”

  Did she say Long Sleeping? Really? The only book I thought of borrowing had to be Eric’s choice? Why wasn’t he on the camping trip anyways? Immediately I thought of hiding the book somewhere, anywhere, and walking away. Tomorrow I’d report that someone had misplaced it and it was in the wrong section. I felt paralyzed with dread, my body drowned in sweat.

  “I looked there and it wasn’t, I told you.” Now he was really losing his temper. He hit the desk with his fist and leaned in toward her. I thought he was about to hurt her. Immediately I removed the book from my backpack and approached him. By the time I had reached him his teeth were showing, expressing a very angry grimace.

  “If you don’t find me that book immediately…” he threatened.

  I interrupted his words by appearing suddenly between them. He looked at me with the same frown, but combined with surprise and wonder. I said nothing, although his intense look almost made me faint. I had no expression on my face as I held my breath. I placed the book on the desk, slowly sliding it toward him. He looked at it then back at me. I averted my sight in order not to meet his furious eyes and slowly started moving back away from him. As I turned my back to them and walked away, I tried to look only with my eyes, without turning my face, at the glass door for his reflection to understand what his reaction was. He didn’t move; he didn’t even take the book. He was just staring at me as I disappeared from their sight.

  I think my soul ran faster than my legs toward the residence. I only looked once behind me; he wasn’t following. Upon reaching the lounge I was breathless. I couldn’t help realizing how wide the lobby was now that it was empty. It even scared me a little to see that I was almost alone in the building. I ran up the stairs toward my room, felt safe once I closed and locked the door. I started walking in circles and thinking of how this could have happened. He had definitely recognized me. Was he going to be angry at me from now on? What was I thinking? I should have thrown the book aside or brought it home with me; who would have figured it out anyways? I should have stayed invisible, but instead I had to feel sorry for the counter lady and put myself in that horrible situation. I wished I was smarter, the kind of person that knows how to act spontaneously correct during a threat. I didn’t know how to act under pressure. I had messed up.

  The only thing that would’ve calmed me down was sleeping, but this chronic anxiety was keeping me awake. The bed felt tighter, and these waves of worry just alerted my body. It even made me think of that book that could have held answers to my sleeping disorders. I stood up and started walking in circles, wondering what his next reaction was going to be. It really scared me just thinking that he was going to call out my name at the university and start shouting at me about God knew what, in front of everyone.

  But that would be ridiculous. Should he do something like that, everyone at the university would hate him. But he didn’t care what people thought of him! Even worse, no one hated him no matter what he did. It was like everyone sympathized with him and agreed to his harsh comments—as if even if he yelled that he was horrible, horrible would become a good thing and everyone would want it. That really scared me. In fact Eric only scared the geeks like me; all others didn’t mind his attitude. They became even more popular as he contacted them, no matter what the contact was, no matter how aggressive or angry.

  Now all I needed to do was wait for Monday and see if he was going to embarrass me. However, if I stayed invisible he would never know that I was with him at the same university. That was the safest idea. I went to my closet and looked for every piece of clothing that was good enough for a disguise. I collected all the sweatshirts with hoodies attached to them and threw them on my bed. Then I checked how many hats I owned. Altogether there were three, not enough for a whole week. I didn’t know where I was able to buy more, and Sarah wasn’t coming back before Sunday night. At least I was good for the first three days.

  Once I found an escape from utter humiliation, my insanity stagnated. I fell onto my bed finding it surprisingly comfortable. I didn’t do much for the rest of the day other than replay in my head the scene of what had happened at the library. Trying to divert my thinking to something else, I went through my inbox but didn’t have any new emails. Clara was definitely busy throughout the week, but I had expected her reply sometime this evening. I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, couldn’t feel any worse. I looked like a child whose eyes carried question marks at all times. It was like at the age of seventeen I had stopped growing and gotten trapped in teenage looks. I wished I were taller, had darker eyes, a curvier waist and bigger chest. But I did not, and nothing could be done to change me. If I needed to start being positive somewhere in my life, then I first needed to accept myself for what I was, for what I was not. I’m not beautiful and that’s just me.

  At six-forty I was ready. I started walking toward the academy for music and dance, which was about ten minutes away. I had inherited this trait from Dad; I was always ahead of time. At least I wasn’t among the first arrivals. Elionora and her fiancé were already there. He was a nice-looking man in his forties with white hair, but his face had no lines, no wrinkles, and no worries. He looked younger than Elionora herself.

  The whole ceremony was very neat and classical, with some musicians playing the violin and the piano. I was the only one who was not wearing a skirt or a tie. My blue jeans and black shirt somehow attracted a few eyes, but I thought I looked okay wearing Mom’s pearl earrings. I couldn’t wait for the event to finish as I wasn’t fitting in like the rest did. T
hey had so much to talk about—the decoration, the music, and the need for such a place, so much that I didn’t know about.

  Elionora was happy, her eyes full of contentment as she thanked everyone for their comments. She was wearing a tight white dress and black scarf. She came to me in a hurry and excitement telling me how successful the event had been and that she wasn’t expecting it.

  “Seventeen new applicants tonight,” she said, smiling.

  “Wow.”

  “All from the university.” She held my hands in happiness.

  “No wonder, Elionora,” I said, ready to agree on anything she would say. “It’s really beautiful.”

  “Yes, she is! I haven’t seen anything like her my whole life.” Mr. Martin smiled while kissing Elionora’s cheek. His white hair kind of distracted me because I didn’t like signs of being old. I wondered why he didn’t dye it.

  “This is the Cassandra I told you about,” Elionora said proudly. “Cassandra, this is Patrick Martin.”

  “Heard so much about you,” I said, laughing at myself. In fact I had only learned today that she had a fiancé.

  “Really?”

  I almost begged him in my heart not to ask what I had heard of him because I didn’t know what to say.

  “What did she tell you?” He looked into me with so much expectation that I almost died.

  I stood without breathing for some time until my color started to drain.

  “I said my man has so much to offer the world, but lucky me…” Elionora stepped in to rescue me, pausing and gazing into his dark eyes, “…he decided to do it through me.”

  “She said that?” He turned toward me beaming with happiness, and I nodded quickly.

  “Yes sir. That’s exactly what she said.”

  Elionora winked at me. Then they went to their clients and I went looking for my lonely non-alcoholic drink. By the time the opening was over, it was already ten and I was tired of listening to people and agreeing with everything they had to say. Outside was total darkness; the sound of my own steps was strange in the absence of light. Even the trees were moving with the wind like the hands of a zombie, shading the moonlight on the sidewalk. The more I gave up to the scary thoughts the quicker I ran toward the light at the end of the street, rejoicing upon taking the three steps into the residence hall. I was relieved as the main door opened, knowing that it was unusual to keep it unlocked at this hour.

  I walked into Sarah’s quiet chamber, turned on the TV, and kept the door opened between the two rooms. It was true that I wanted to be alone, but not at night. I closed the windows and sat in bed thinking of Robert. I had missed his presence in my life even when I didn’t exist in his. I remembered how I used to sit behind him in class watching him as he tapped his pencil on the edge of the table. I think it helped him think, or maybe distracted his thoughts. In my long repose I rescanned all of Robert’s details that had been carved into my memory and over my heart—so long that when I was awakened the cafeteria had already closed. I ran down the stairs realizing that nothing of what was left was of my choice. Everything included garlic, and I couldn’t stand its horrible smell. There were no sandwiches, no dessert on that Saturday since almost no one was in the residence hall. I took some corn and butter up to my room and decided to eat it just before a quick shower.

  Finally I put myself in bed without any real intention to sleep; should that happen I knew I was going to suffer a lot before. I looked aside at the shelf where the bitten apple was, the place of the bite even darker now and its skin a little yellowish and curled toward the inside. The other side of it was as rigid as new. I took the apple to the bathroom and washed it. Instantly it looked more appealing and healthy. It was Mom’s idea to wash the plants; at home she also used to sing to them. She used to say that they could hear us and feel us, and that they liked to bathe.

  She’s where I got my love for nature; Dad used to say that anything she planted with her hands quickly turned green. It was like her soul was closely tied to these living things. Dad once said that she had such green hands. I couldn’t think of any song to sing to the apple so I turned on the radio for it. I looked for a station that had calm music and found one that played only the piano. I muted Sarah’s TV and rested in my bed near the apple until slowly I fell asleep to the music.

  When I woke up it felt as if I hadn’t slept at all; nighttime had passed like a second. It was a very sunny day and a very cold one too. Sarah was coming back today, I guessed around the afternoon. I was supposed to go to the library to resume the volunteer work, but I was too afraid to go there. I sent a message to Elionora, explaining that I was going to spend the day cleaning my room until Sarah was back. She did not mind.

  Of course I wasn’t planning to go to the library again after learning that Eric was the reading type. He was unusually special—very beautiful yet angry and intellectual. I couldn’t imagine a person who had so many opposites combined into one character. I even freaked out and couldn’t believe my eyes when I spotted him entering the chapel at ten this morning. But it wasn’t my business and I didn’t want to think of him. I was so concerned about his anger that I wasn’t concerned as much with my own troubles anymore.

  I took my lonely walk around noon with earphones on, playing music from an Internet radio. There were no songs that I was familiar with, but all gave me a push to keep walking and just thinking. I had reached a whole new place during my walk; it was like a tree house built inside a tree but touching the ground, only twenty minutes away from the library. It was not very isolated; rather just unusual between all the other trees. A boy of about seventeen was standing in the front yard holding a stick with one hand and his dog’s chain with the other. He was laughing at the dog’s playfulness in biting the stick. The boy was very tall, almost like everyone else here in Colorado. I stood watching them as they played together and started walking away as soon as the dog sensed my presence and barked. The boy was calling “Who’s there?” but I didn’t reply and just walked away.

  Around five in the evening Sarah was back. She almost screamed from happiness as she found out how clean and tidy her room was. It was a night of revels as she spent all dinnertime talking about their mountain adventures and how strong and fearless Jack was. Sarah’s choice of restaurant was very crowded of course, and almost everything on the menu included meat or chicken. I found something that had chocolate and bread included, which I ordered. A moment of silence settled over the table as I asked for dessert.

  I smiled at the group. “I’m not very hungry.”

  Jack, Sarah, Michka, and Daniel had ordered almost the same plate with different kinds of chicken. All had an extremely strong smell of garlic. I had to cover my mouth and nose to reduce it. Everyone was very excited about going to the campus tomorrow; they wanted to share their mountain stories with the rest. I myself was very bored of these nonsense adventures and felt like disappearing again.

  I went through my emails at night; I had two from Dad, one from Sam, one from Clara, and a few others related to my old school which I developed the habit of deleting before reading.

  Sam was just saying hello and asking permission to use my bike. Dad was asking the same thing and wondered if I was ready to give it away, knowing that it was now a little small for me. I responded to both that they were free to do anything they wanted without asking me. I inserted smiley faces to make them believe I really meant it.

  Clara’s email had the subject: “This time I really have news about Robert!” I laughed knowing that she was lying again and left her email unread. I tried every technique for sleeping that I knew but found myself awake for the first few hours of the night. Maybe I was a little worried about being around Eric again, but somehow having him not scream at me at the library gave me some peace. I closed my eyes several times until I finally got confused as to whether I was really sleeping or not.

  Chapter 4

  painting of life

  monday was the cutoff day for late registration; we were allo
wed to change our courses if we didn’t like them. I was satisfied with them all, plus I didn’t like to change a lot because it required memorizing which class I was in and how to get to it. It had taken me all last week to get accustomed to that. I thought I’d keep them all, although one of them had Joseph teaching it. But I wasn’t disturbed by him. He did seem a little too serious, but my quiet attitude made him concentrate on bothering other students instead.

  I was wearing sunglasses and a beige sweatshirt with the hoodie up, my hands in the pockets as usual. I tried to attract the least attention as I walked quickly to class. Sarah tried to keep up with my fast pace. “Why are we running?” she asked.

  “I just don’t want to be late.”

  “We still have twenty minutes before class.”

  “Well, I feel a little cold so I thought I’d go to class early.”

  “Oh, well why didn’t you say so?” She walked me quickly to class. Sarah and I had this one class in common. We sat near each other, chatting while waiting for the teacher. Two girls sitting in front of us turned around and started talking to us. Sarah introduced them to me; they appeared to know each other from last year.

  “Did you see Eric on Thursday?” the blonde one said. “He looked very attractive as he pushed John away.”

  “It’s like he made it clear to everyone not to mess with him,” the other one said.

  “Yeah, but he’s being too harsh,” Sarah added. “He can’t always be angry at the world.”

  “Well, he has his reasons,” the blonde said.

  It killed me to see how the girls admired him. It was like they even admired his defects. Nothing he could do would make them dislike him. I wondered what his excuses were for possessing such a distorted attitude, but I was too shy to ask, worried they might notice that I’d had contact with him before. For me he was too aggressive, and I couldn’t support having him around me—except for that one time he was holding the red rose and had followed me to the hospital, but of course I couldn’t share that with anyone.