A Slice Of Life

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Wesley Tran

“I’m not helping you get out of any sexual harassment charges.” This may seem petty, but I’m kind of offended. “And I don’t even know your name. You don’t even know mine, for crying out loud!” Strands of hair fall in front of her eyes. The blue headband doesn’t seem to have helped to keep it back. The hair in the front isn’t long enough to be held back with the rest of her hair in a ponytail.

“First of all, I am not being charged for sexual harassment. That girl you saw me with was very willing.” She doesn’t seem too pleased that I brought that up again. Bathroom Girl can’t exactly blame me. She’s the one that practically ran into the stall without checking first. For those first few seconds, I was very cramped. “Second of all, the only reason we don’t know each other’s names, is because we already have names for each other. And we haven’t had the chance to actually introduce each other. Why would we need to know names when I can just call you Bathroom Girl? And you can call me whatever it is you call me.”

“Well I—” I stare at her when she starts speaking. I’ve heard that staring at a girl can shut her up. “I actually think—” I lean forward and hold my head up with my hands. She instinctively leans back. Before she falls, I lean back, stretching my arms, and interrupt whatever she’s opened her mouth to say.

“On second thought, we probably do know each other’s names. You may have heard mine last week. I may have heard yours just now when your friend said it. But the real question is whether we know the importance of the person sitting opposite us, respectively.” She’s probably thinking I’m a stalker, but I’m not. I just feel as though our destinies are intertwined somehow. It’s nothing romantic. It’s a different kind of destiny.

“I’m officially confused.” Yeah, well, so am I. “Ag. It’s officially been ten minutes. Probably need to go. Enjoy that Thai Iced Tea.” She scoots back her chair, and heads back behind the counter. I decide to let it be. I didn’t even get to tell her about the nonexistent favor. It is true that I only said that to get her attention. I’m shameless. I didn’t learn her name either, but I think her friend called her something along the lines of Starr.

However, one good thing did come out of this. I’ve confirmed that there is officially something between us.

***

Charlotte Le

Elle and I are on our way back to the apartment we share with Bryn. I’m bundled up in a warm jacket, my black and white scarf, and a warm black beanie. I almost didn’t put on the beanie since it reminded me of him, but it was freezing outside. Elle walked beside me, and was dressed similar in a jacket and scarf. However, instead of a beanie, she wore one of those knit animal hats. It was mid-December, and we only had about a week until winter break.

“Who was he?” Her voice is laced with curiosity. Sometimes I wish Elle was oblivious to things. But she isn’t. At times, it’s absolutely great. And at other times, it sucks. Should I lie? Or should I tell the truth? I shouldn’t even be considering lying to her.

“Make-Out Guy.” I kick a rock and let out a breath, leaving a little cloud behind. “Can’t believe he goes here. Why else would he go to Stanford Coffee Shop? Visiting a friend? That’s hardly believable since no one was with him. And he said he was in a hurry, so why did he stay for thirty minutes? Ag.”

“Maybe he is visiting a friend, and he was just out to get coffee.” We’re approaching our building. While Elle’s reason sounds logical, I’d rather be pessimistic. I also feel that he’s not just visiting. “And wouldn’t you have seen him before if he does go here? Wait, never mind. This school has a lot of people, but I do find it hard to believe that I haven’t seen him at the coffee shop, the Apple store, or the library.”

“Your optimism makes me want to gag. There’s something about him that seems permanent.” I say this last bit when Elle is getting out her key. Before she can slide it in the lock, the door opens revealing a very disheveled Bryn.

***

“Thought I heard you guys at the door. How was work?” Bryn steps to the side allowing us to enter. Elle and I enter hesitantly as we’re both equally aware of how Bryn looks. Her hair is a mess. She has a wild look in her eye. Her clothes are rumpled. Generally, she looks like she’s gone crazy. “Sorry about the mess. Was just looking for something.”

I begin tidying up. The black couch is slanted with its white throw pillows on the floor. All the kitchen cupboards and drawers are open. I take a peek into Bryn’s bedroom, and clothes are literally everywhere. It seems as though she dumped all the contents of drawers onto the floor and bed. By the looks of it, Bryn Sinclair was definitely looking for something. Outside I hear Elle ask a question.

“Do you mind telling us what is going on here? Charlotte saw you yesterday and you were fine. Heck, I saw you last night, and you were clearly sane.” I peek into Elle’s room and see that it hasn’t been touched. I finally make it over to my room, and it’s the same mess I left it in. I head back over to the living room, where they’ve both made enough room to sit on the sofa. Elle is clearly waiting for an answer, while Bryn has her head in her hands.

“He’s back.” Elle and I obviously know who “he” is and it’s a hellishly awkward topic. As in all awkward situations, we start to busy ourselves doing something. Elle does that weird hand thing with the snapping, and it always succeeds in confusing me. I get right back up from the couch and start tidying some more. I close all cupboards and drawers and put pillows back on chairs. After doing all I can for the time being, I sit back down, and prepare to listen to her spill her guts.

“What do you mean he’s back? Did he just come and knock on the door? And what exactly are you looking for?” These three questions should about cover it. For the time being, Elle has stopped the hand snapping. Hand snapping. I think that’s what I’ll call it for now. She’s now looking at Bryn with worried eyes. Bryn lifts her head and tries in a vain attempt to flatten her hair.

“I mean that he’s back. I mean that he just came and knocked on the effing door. I mean that I didn’t even look through the peephole. I mean that I stupidly opened the door.” Bryn takes a deep breath and looks on the verge of tears. And trust me, Bryn doesn’t cry. I’ve only seen her cry once, not that she’s seen me cry at all. “And there he is. He looks the same, you know. Hasn’t changed a bit. I look at him and think, ‘Oh God, what the hell is he doing here?’”

***