Love Never Dies (an Unconditional student/teacher romance)

Chapter Eight - ASDA

Chapter Eight - ASDA

Late June, beginning of the summer holidays, 2002.

Mum wanted to go shopping. Dad was up at the pub, drinking a few of his usual afternoon pins with the guys from his work. I didn’t want to go shopping; it was the beginning of the summer holidays and Adam wanted to take me to the caravan up north somewhere with him and his gran. So, instead of packing like any normal person would've been doing, mum bribed me into taking a trip to our local shopping supermarket.

"Mum! You know I should be packing, not walking up and down ASDA aisles looking for Scottish salmon! For God sake!" My shouting was followed by a loud groan, a theatrical swagger, and daggers.

As I, acting like a child, followed my mother down the centre aisle of the indoor supermarket, a woman pushing a red double pram full with twins blocked my way for a second. I stopped on the spot. She muttered a stressed sorry, before moving the pram out of the way. I smiled quickly, but before I could move, an old man rammed his trolley into the back of my heels. I squealed and turned around, getting more irritated than ever. ASDA was like chaos – it was near enough impossible to move. And the fact that ASDA’s home-baking was on sale didn’t help either, because that just induced extra people to the crazed mobs.

"Oh, I’m sorry!" The old man scowled before he, acting as if he was Lewis Hamilton preparing to drive the race of his life, skidded down an aisle along with his squeaking trolley.

"Jeez! MUM!" I moved onward, in and out of the crowd, and finally caught mum who was down by the freezer section, holding onto two packets of foul-smelling fish.

"Talk about havin' a dilema! Fresh smoked salmon for dinner, or just some salmon fillets! Hmm..."

"On today’s news, we have countries which are starving, unresolved disastrous economic issues, children who are dying needlessly every second of the day, and a life threatening decision about which salmon one wants to cook for their dinner - dilema indeed, mother!"

"All right, smart arse! I’m moving!" Mum chucked down the salmon fillets back into the widely-opened freezer and placed the smoked ones into her avacado basket.

"Praise the Lord, she’s moving!" Mum pushed me forward, mirthfully. I stumbled a step, stopping next to the fruit and veg aisle. Looking up, I felt a little more secure because this aisle wasn’t as heaving and mobbed as before.

"Oh, no! Now I wish I got the fillets. Damn you, Rubz! Rushing me!" Mum jokingly pretended that I was to blame. She kept this rather annoying pretence up right up until we reached the swarmed check-out desks. I laughed, barely, whilst I helped pack the bags. Once the two bags were bought, and I took hold of them, mum put her bank card into the data bank machine, and I looked about.

How I managed to spot him I’ll never know. About 20 odd yards away Dr. Andre was making his way down towards the check-out area. I stared at him as if I were looking at a ghost. I hadn’t seen or heard of him in exactly four weeks – from the moment he told me his unborn child had died.

The grim appearance of my physics teacher was not an appealing one anymore. His baggy, vulgar clothes were like a callous cage around his tall, narrow body. His blonde hair was combed back – not styled into his usual messy way. His features were dull-like, almost lifeless. I could see his blue eyes from where I stood. It was like I had an abnormal supernatural ability of elasticity and I was stretching my eyesight. I noticed instantly how his eyes were casted downwards, shadowing his prominent cheek bones. Dr. Andre looked like an attractive man in disguise of a hobo. My body suddenly felt cold and wretched. Dr. Andre had been off school prior to the breakup of the summer holidays. Of course, it was granted, because of his circumstances. I didn’t know what to say or feel when I came into Physics one morning and Dr. Andre wasn’t present. We were sadly issued with Mr. Williams until further notice.

Dr. Andre walked down the main aisle slowly, scarcely even looking for an open cashier. His dismal presence gave me shivers. When he past me, he looked in my direction. He noticed me, too. We had an instant, direct eye-contact momet. Irresolute of what to say or do, like always, I shot him a compassionate smile – trying to vanquish the love from it – but Dr. Andre never returned the smile. He just stared at me; through me, then walked onwards, faster. Being ignored shouldn’t have bothered me.

The point that I hadn’t seen him or anything for just over a month didn’t mean that my rapidly blossomed love for him was gone forever. Yes, it was weird how it happened but you can never help who you fall in love with. This declaration that I keep repeating to myself was exactly how my boyfriend Adam Sun must've be feeling. How I wished he would just love someone else and leave me to love someone who I could never have or touch - a broken heart of a forbidden man. I was becoming used to it, my new world. My new world consisted of one tree and two beings. That is all.

Beneath the tree, there is me, and I'm reaching out to Dr. Andre. But whether he would decide to take my hand or not, I would never know.

My, how I hated life. How the hell was Emily coping? Then again, as far as I gathered, she wasn’t coping; anything but actually.

"Earth to Miss Ruby Anderson! Move, honey! People are starting to stare!"

Mum took a bag from me and led me out of the still swabbed supermarket. In the car, I instantly tuned the radio, pressed my elbow against the passenger window, and stared out into the open, wondering how Dr. Andre was coping. Why, I was thinking, did he stare at me like that? Because, according to the rumours I overheard, his three month old baby boy died of cot death – a Sudden Instant Death Syndrome (SIDS).

The thought of that tiny baby of his dying in his sleep actually brought tears to, not only mum’s eyes when I mentioned it to her, but my very own.

The heartache Dr. Andre must have been going through surely was unimaginable for me. His first child. Dead,

The worst thing about it all was that he wasn’t able to fly over to Zante to comfort his girlfriend. The reason was unknown why, but to others, it was rumoured that his girlfriend – when she visited Scotland – was known to be a flirtatious, beautiful woman who enjoyed male company. Add two and two together, what to you get? Whore. No elegant way to put it. Was the child even his? Was that what made things worse for Dr. Andre? Sometimes, especially at night, I often desired to just launch out of bed and run to his home in the next town. He didn’t live that far – a twenty minute drive or so. I never desired to search for him so badly – actually hack the school files – during my holiday up north with Adam and his gran.

Each night, after we finished our regular routine of sightseeing, acting like pathetic tourists, we would retire home to the two bedroomed static caravan and Adam would treat me like royalty with his gentle touching; his smooth words, his charm, his everything – always asking for that one thing. But I could never give him it. And I could tell, though he tried to hide his sexual yearnings, that it was taking its toll on him. I’m just not ready, I’d say to him. I’m sorry.

And part of me was.

Why was I holding myself? I never knew at the time.

I just had to forget about him. I told myself. Forget about him like I normally forgot about heartburn. Because that’s what Dr. Andre was like to me; a pestering pain in the chest. And with heart burn, I always tried my absolute best to forget about it, and sooner or later, it wore off.

Ha! I don’t think so. I tried forgetting about the whole pathetic issue this time last year, and look where it’s gotten me? Best friendless, miserable, hurt, and most of all, angry. I was angry with everyone, especially Dr. Andre.

At the same time as spending my moments with Adam during the summer, I grew to hate Dr. Andre. Despise him! My pity which was stimulated in me with his sympathetic private issues was melted within me like metal, and they forged together into a hot bar of utter steel hatred.

Or so I thought anyway...