Till We Rise

by Camila Cher Harmath

  “Let’s go somewhere,” I take a shot and try to make something interesting out of our boring how-are-you-today conversation.

  He changes his haze and pulls a smirk, although I cannot figure out if he is okay with the idea or if he found it extremely ridiculous.

  “Somewhere like… what?” he inquires with a tone of surprise.

  I kind of forgot that I am still standing in the rain.

  “But we have to go to class,” he adds serious.

  “Really? Theodore are you kidding me?” I grab his hands showing my teeth and giggle as if I am a crazy person.

  “No,” he answers innocently, without getting off his hands from mines. I really want to kiss him right now.

  “Let’s go,” I speak “Let’s run away,” I say again with a look of happiness. I am pretty excited just with the idea of both of us. I wish he wants to go with me too. I am a person with such low self-esteem that all I can actually find it common if he is thinking that I am so ugly and crazy.

  “Wait…” he hesitates for a second or two “What about college?” he seems preoccupied, very preoccupied.

  “What about college?” I repeat and imitate with his exact tone of voice, trying to make him open his mind and think about what his life is really about. “What about living our life? What about having some fun? What about it, Theodore?”

  I can’t believe I am actually doing it. I am now steps forward him and I feel great about it; about my decision.

  “Isn’t it a little bit too early, Cal?” he tries to speak without hurting me but clearly my world has fallen in a matter of milliseconds.

  I knew he didn’t want me, nobody ever will.

  “What do you mean?” I speak making myself sound disoriented. “I thought you liked me,” I add while tears starts filling my eyes. As I am standing in the rain it’s not that easy to realize that I’ve just had my heart broken by the one and only person I do care about –and like a lot, too.

  “I do,” he grabs my face and caresses a side of my cheek. I am starting to take deep sighs. “Lypso, hey,” Theodore says pretty serious. “I do, I really do. And I appreciate everything you do but, uh, I really care about college and–“

  “I get it,” I murmur and finally a tear starts streaming down my face, getting lost in between the rain drops that are all over my face. I CAN’T GET THIS EMOTIONAL ABOUT HIM.

  I don’t move, I just stand there with one hand grabbing Theodore’s, and my face touching his other one that is caressing me with such love I feel like dreaming.

  He starts putting my wet hair behind my right ear and meanwhile he stares directly at me. It literally seems that he doesn’t give a shit about my state. My wet state, I mean.

  “Don’t get mad at me,” he speaks in a sweet tone of voice I can barely hear him.

  I sigh and unconsciously start sobbing like a little baby.

  “Don’t put me that face, Cal,” he adds directly after I pulled a puppy face. I always put the same face when I am about to cry.

  I don’t want to show myself as a weak girl. Least in front of Theodore, but I cannot contain my strength because I like him a little bit too much. I consider myself a total failure.

  “Let’s get into class, okay?” he inquires softly.

  I don’t want to. I had in mind the idea of us going together to somewhere unknown and his rejection is making my heart ache.

  “I don’t want to,” I speak out loud angry. I might seem like a whimsical but at the moment there’s nothing else I can try to do.

  Poor Theodore, I know he really is a gift from God but I am the problem, I am the one who is hard to please.

  “Come on, Cal,” he giggles. I can’t contain myself and smile.

  At the end of the day he is the one and only who makes me smile no matter what.

  “Okay,” I mutter energyless. Don’t know if that word even exists but you know what? Of course you do; I don’t care.

  I just proceed. I start walking beside him. I am sad. No wait… Sad is not the word, maybe strange or left apart. I don’t know.

  He suddenly grabs my left hand while caressing it with the hem of his index finger, making me sigh of amusement. It seems to me that he has realized because he smiles and crooks the side of his beautiful mouth.

  We start walking together across the hall and then by the corridor. People is looking at us, the thing is... There are a lot of factors why people might be looking: (1) I am totally soaked from head to toe, (2) A couple of teenagers are walking down the hallway, (3) Every time people are grabbing hands they all look like the apocalypse is near, (4) I am “the antisocial” and probably, not a single soul can believe I am walking with a nice man WHILE GRABBING HANDS, (5) Maybe they are looking at Theodore’s handsome appeal.

  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 g
rown-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, T
heodore,” 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.