Till We Rise

by Camila Cher Harmath

  I sighed sentimentally, full of emotions. My mind was –and still is– out of control, blown away, boom. I was thinking about twenty thousand of things at the same time, such as “what if I confess my attraction to him?”, “what if he doesn’t likes me back?”, “what if I pee myself?”, “why is he so kind?”, “who the hell am I to him?”, “what is air?”, “what?”, “am I in heaven?” and also “are you Jesus Christ?”.

  All this brainless questions were wondering around my head from the time he decided to kiss my frown until the present, I mean, until now that I am rethinking my life lying on my comfy bed staring at the ceiling.

  If my life resembled a movie, subsequently the gently kiss he decided to give me, he would have said “Do you wanna come to my room, girl?” and I would have agreed and made some illegal stuff with a sexy boy that wanted to break the rules with a random gal. We would have probably had some shitty sex, done drugs and of course the fucking principal would’ve discovered an extrovert girl in the boys’ campus, which is completely unacceptable nowadays.

  I love imaginary situations, I always think about them. When you want something to happen you just can make it happen; in your mind, of course, but it still happens. I want a nice body, I imagine a nice body and I have a nice body. I want a boyfriend and I have a boyfriend just by imagining it; speechless. I wish real life was as easy as that, I would kind of be on the top of the world, but pitifully I am not the person I imagine I am, so situations like these would never happen.

  I really do not understand how real girls manage to have a serious relationship with their so-called boyfriends. I am not saying that I am not real, I know I am a little bit odd but still common at the end of the day (I swear I am), but I really want to know what’s the formula to obtain or work out a boyfriend, I literally would pay for a boy to love me. To be honest, I would pay for anyone to love me.1

  Come on, Calypso, It’s not something that you buy or win, you should fight for it, you should be ready for it. I think I am ready for everything but one thing: waffles getting extinguished.

  Returning to the important stuff, Theodore walked away right after the kiss scene and, in the middle of his gentle trudge, he turned around and when he realized that I was still there he smiled at me and kind of winked. I am not sure if he did, though, but I find it kind of cliché, so I am praying that he didn’t because I hate clichés.

  His walk was slow and peaceful as if he had nothing to rush about. At that moment, I would have liked to get out the car and walk beside him, gently grabbing his hand and lacing his fingers with mine.

  I bet he hasn’t realized yet that he is the closest to perfection I ever had the pleasure to met; meaning “closest” because obviously perfection is something non-existent (as utopias, they are bullshit). He is so thoroughgoing, immaculate, flawless, absolute, but never perfect, and the best thing about Theodore is that he doesn't even have an idea how much power he radiates on me. This might sound weird as hell but I want to exploit that power together.

  Theodore is like a charger and I am like a device that’s out of power and in need of someone to recharge me again. Without power I am hopeless; I have felt this way for a long time, but now I see brighter days, I see lots of unknown things coming, all thanks to the power I believe he has and which is being transmitted to me just with his existence.

  Another of my many thoughts is that I should stop hating everything, I should stop complaining about all the things that happen to me because I know that if I stop, I will genuinely start enjoying my life and maybe realize that I am one fortunate human being.

  I barely see my mom, I don’t have any siblings to bother or argue with, I also hate college and every single thing related to it, I don’t want to talk to my ex-best and only friend anymore, I can’t stop thinking about Theo and this weird power stuff, I need to take a bath, wash my clothes, try to cook some dinner because mother is missing, I have some homework to finish, an essay to write, tasks to complete, stuff to organize and a room to clean, but the most important thing is that I have a life too and I want to live it. From now on anything matters.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “Calypso derives from Kalypto, in Greek Myth it was the nymph’s name, which fell deeply in love with Odysseus after he was shipwrecked on her island of Ogygia. Odysseus refused to stay with her so the nymph a.k.a. Kalypto decided to detain him for about seven years time until, presumably, Zeus ordered her to release him.”

  I’ve been studying this myth for so long now that I’ve done so many hypothesis; the only thing I can truly identify myself to is Calypso meaning “to conceal”, which probably is related indirectly with my personality because I kind of hide my feelings and my thoughts from everyone, even from myself.

  Maybe Odysseus did love Kalypto but he was afraid of declaring or accepting his love for her. In those times being in love meant literally dying for the one who you offered your love to. I believe nowadays having to “die” for the person you love it’s not literal as in those times, but it’s kind of a metaphor or a metonymy or whatever it’s called.

  I have a strange addiction since the age of nine: my mom has made me be interested in names. She loves weird ones but what fascinates me is the meaning behind them. Whenever I meet someone, relevant or not, I need to know what his or her name means, because it tells a lot about the person, it really does.

  I just do research; I have been keen of information from the Internet all my life, such as Wikipedia or pages that only contain information about whatever the heck you want to know.

  I do it this way:

  1. I meet a person.

  2. I feel obligated to know what his or her name is.

  3. When I get home I look for the meaning.

  4. I learn about it and try to analyze what things I consider this person has and what I have to avoid about them.

  5. Later on, I write it down.

  I have my own book, which I call “moniker book”; it’s not literally a book, it’s just a mix of written papers and sketches. I might sound like a freak but instead of taking drugs and being addicted to Maui Wowie, I kindly prefer my addiction over the ones that threaten my health.

  I am used to it, I have been doing this stuff since I have memory and I like it. No one knows about it, I feel that if I ever tell someone about it, they would freak out and never talk to me again, because it’s weird as fuck, to be honest. Imagine you are talking to a random girl and she is like “Hey, what’s your name? Oh, yeah, Peter, I don’t know why but your name means Stone, okay, bye”.

  Peter, John, Jessica, Amy, Lisa, Michael, William, Emily, Ryan, Anna and the list has no end. I know the meaning of every single common name, they are easy to learn and most of the people in the U.S. have one of them. It’s easier for me to cope with people, if I don’t like the meaning of their name, I just don’t speak or even try not to look at them. Weird, right?

  That’s how I know Roth is the kind of person that wants attention and needs to have lots of friends or people around him, because of the meaning of his name; Fame. The thing is, when I first met him, I thought that being friends with him was going to make me have many friends as he does, but I was wrong, instead I ended up being known as “the antisocial” and I’ve never had the opportunity to talk to their friends because certainly, that’s not my destiny.

  Also, I can tell why my mom thinks that she is still a teenager and never cooks me dinner or cleans my room. “Lady” or “Princess” in Hebrew is the meaning of Sarah. Or why the principal is so strange and bipolar, because names categorize persons and persons categorizes names.

  The day I first met Theodore, I obviously did the research thing but I was a little bit confused, not because of him but about something else.

  Theodore is a Greek name that means “Gift of God”, which I believe that is accurate, at least for me. In classical Greece, it was an ordinary name, two saints carried it and later on it became into general use in the Christian world, although it was rare in Britain before
the 19th century. Irrelevant information, indeed.

  I am not concerned about this theory; it is pretty genuine because personally, I think Theodore is a gift from God. But then I remembered that I’ve asked him for his second name; Douglas. I did my thing and I discovered the following: Douglas means “Dark” or “Black”. Boom.

  At first I didn’t pay a lot of attention to it, then I started thinking about it and I couldn’t reach to a real conclusion. Theodore is not dark, he is not a bad person, and he doesn’t resemble darkness, so I cannot understand why his second name is so not like himself. Every single name matches perfectly with the person and it’s the first time this happens to me. I bet the Internet has something wrong or maybe Theodore is the only exception.

  I wish I was smarter, I wish I could know the real meaning of this, but I am not. I need to know him better, maybe later I will find out.

  At the moment, I am tidying up my room and trying to think about something else because I can’t think about a boy 24/7. I like to think about him, but I know it’s not right, because I don’t want to sound obsessed.

  I have to look for Stephen, Chloe and Frank, those are the next names on my list, but I need to finish some stuff first.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sarah is never at home or at least that is what it seems. I get up, get dressed, do whatever I have to do every single morning–make up, comb my hair, have an argument with the toaster because it works really badly, and to be honest, I don’t want to go to college with an empty stomach because morning hunger is the worst type of hunger.

  I feel something odd about myself today, I am starting to feel a little bit more alive and with lots of energy. God may know why, because I don’t. I couldn’t sleep all night long because my mind was full of unconcluded thoughts and unsolved mysteries –which are not mysteries at all, but whatever.

  I hate this life. When I was a schoolgirl I thought that when I ended senior year I would be free and capable of doing whatever the heck I wanted to, but obviously it is not true, you know. It is even worse because school on those days was an obligation for me and my friends –yeah, I had friends– and I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to assist or not. I just HAD to go and I didn’t have any other choice.

  Now at college things are genuinely different because every student has to decide if they want to assist or not, it’s totally up to you and nobody –but the professor, in my case– is going to tell you a thing if you decide to skip class, for example.

  Mornings are boring. Everything is, though.

  I can’t make my life exotic and adventurous because I am a coward and I follow the rules just because they are and everything fun is dangerous and danger scares me. A lot.

  Maybe you think I am wrong; not every fun activity has to be necessarily dangerous, but let me tell you something, at mid seventies I am not going to throw a pajama party at my place because (A) it’s not cool anymore and (B) I don’t like to be around lots of girls shouting and screaming –myself included— and (C) I don’t have girlfriends and also (D) just not.

  Whatever, I’ve just finished my daily and boring breakfast and I am now going to college.

  Oh, it’s raining, great.

  I get out of my car and make a quick run towards the entrance hall. I bet one hundred bucks that I am looking like a total failure while placing my jacket above my head to try not to get wet. I am also making my steps pretty hilarious because honestly, I don’t want to ruin my shoes and I don’t care about what everybody is thinking. Probably no one is even looking at me. I am invisible here, that may be a good or a bad thing. A good one because if I made something totally stupid or out of place no one would realize –like the one I am doing at the moment– and a bad one because if I were dying or in need of help nobody would notice me and me and my soul would be left alone.

  Theodore is standing just inside the entrance hall and, at the moment I look at him, my heart starts beating as fast as a Ferrari.

  He looks meaner, sexier, not like the gentle Theo I met days ago. I like it, by the way. I am just amazed by his look today; that leather jacket, dark blue pants (I think they are denim but I haven’t figured out yet), black boots –which are definitely the sexiest shoes a man can wear, I don’t know why, they are just different from other shoes. I hate when boys wears the usual Chuck Taylors. Don’t get me wrong, I like them but not for boys my age or older. I used to wear them when I was sophomore.

  As I walk –wanting to die, of course, because now I know he is looking at me while I walk like a koala– I get near him. I can tell that he is staring at me in some way he has never before; his arms crossed and one side of his toned –but still skinny– and pale body is resting on the wall.

  I turn my gaze to his eyes hoping he is not looking at me anymore but unfortunately I am wrong and he has never changed his look from its initial place.

  I feel more and more awkward as I approach him, I wish this odd feeling ends up quickly because is definitely not nice. I am completely soaked and –as I said before– it makes me want to die but anyway, I keep concentrated on what I have in front of my eyes, pretending that it’s no big deal.

  As you see, I can’t stop thinking because my mind is a thought machine and it never shuts down. It’s pretty strange because I can’t put into words and say what I’m thinking, and maybe that is why I am so scared of people liking me, because I never give them –or even myself– the opportunity to know what is really inside of my head. And that is not how things work, I guess.

  People have to communicate; they need to speak to each other to get in order to get to know one another. If not, nobody is going to have the urge to get near you and start a conversation, even if you are the hottest girl in college; people will talk about you but they won’t actually talk to you. Nobody really wants to talk to a person who is not interested on talking to you.

  Roth is different. We started being friends from the first day, only because we were newbie’s and neither of us had someone to talk to. So, we shared the desk and the chat started automatically and naturally. It was not difficult for me at first, but later on, he started getting new and more friends and being popular and getting invited to parties and whatever, and I did not.

  I was –and am– Roth’s left out pal and I want to change that, I know I can. This is not the life I believe I deserve. Being honest, nobody wants to be someone’s something. I know I can’t express myself correctly, what I meant was that I don’t want to be a part of Roth’s group of people. I am tired of overhearing people saying hey look, it’s Roth’s weirdo friend, because I am not this person, hope you understand what I am trying to mean.

  “Theodore,” I state when I am less than two steps closer. I guess it’s a new record; I’ve said the same name for about two hundred times in less than a week.

  He smiles at me and I have no choice but to smile back. Well, it’s not really a choice, it’s just something unconscious. I can’t help but smile back when he pulls that nice smile that I love.

  “I was waiting for you,” he speaks crooking his smile. “How are you today?” he asks in such a gentle way I want to grab him and take him home for the rest of my life.

  “I am totally wet,” I say grabbing my soaked hair with one hand, pulling an I-want-to-die face.

  “I see, Calypso,” he giggles and place both his hands on the pockets of his trousers “But regarding the water, how are you feeling?” he pronounces feeling differently, that makes me realize that he is talking seriously.

  “Oh. Fine, I guess,” I mutter shyly, realizing that I am still standing in the rain and I can barely open my eyes.

  He is standing beneath a little glass ceiling located just in front of the entrance so he isn’t getting soaked like me. Literally, if someone gives me a shampoo I can totally wash my hair in this instant.

  “Why are you always guessing?” he asks kind of mad. I don’t understand what he’s supposed to mean.

  “Am I?” I inquire doubtfully “I don’t know, Theo. I j
ust don’t know,” I add several seconds later after pulling a somehow sad or clueless face.

  Whatever I am feeling at the moment it has nothing to do with him, I mean, he takes my breath away, honestly, but right now I am feeling a little bit doleful. My thoughts earlier made me feel kind of odd. I don’t know why I am being so bipolar lately, but it is driving me mad.

  “Take it easy,” he takes out his hands of his pockets and approaches me gently, looking and staring at me with such tenderness I want to ask him who paid him to do that beautiful gesture, no joke.

  “I am fine,” I try to convince both of us, because I know that it is not 100% true. I don’t know how I am supposed to feel after losing my only friend, I almost forget about it; after all the hatred he felt towards me, I’ll always love Roth.

  It is nice that Theodore came into my life; I am not so lonely now. All Thanks to him. Even my mom is absent, I just can’t cope with my life anymore, I wish I was happier about him, about what is going on between the both of us, but I can’t.

  There’s a voice inside my head that keeps telling me you are not enough for nobody, even for yourself. And then I pretend to be happy and have an awesome life with my hopeless mind. It’s not that easy when you don’t know who to talk to, you just stand there, lying about your emotions because you don’t want to scare a boy you have just met by telling him “hey, I am lonely, help me”, because he will just feel pity and shame for me and I don’t want to show myself that wrecked. I want to show myself as a strong person and it’s not that easy.

  I feel like asking how he is going on today but on the other hand, I believe that I’ve spent a lot of time thinking and it’s already late. So I just look at him, raising my eyebrows and getting a little bit closer than we were before. I have to take more risks in my life and I want to take them with him.