Eleven Shorts +1

Like Beads of Time

LIKE BEADS OF TIME

by Shireen Jeejeebhoy

(Honourable mention in the 1988 Hart House Short Story Contest (University of Toronto); originally published in WORDSCAPE 3)

WOULD THIS BE the year? The year that the water drops like inexorable beads of time would stop dripping?

She sat in the middle seat of the back row in the cold lecture room. She sat still, watching and following the movements of every male who walked in. It was the first day of class, and she had deliberately come early, but it seemed as if her careful preparations had come to nought. Not one of the males seemed right, and now the professor started her boring introductory lecture.

Click. Her mind registered that the door had opened quietly. She swivelled her eyes quickly towards it and saw him sneaking in. Her eyes flickered over him, brightening as they lazily made their way up from his feet to his hair. Yes, this would be the year. Already, the drops of water had quietened. Already, they were slowing down; perhaps she would not drown after all.

He had your basic short, back, and sides hair cut, yet the cut intensified the blazing sunset colours that chased themselves across his head with every little movement he made. To her, his hair was like a beacon, drawing her eyes to its silken blaze, daring her hands not to touch. His eyes were a deep compelling green, and his jaw was firm. She fell in love. And the water drops stopped.

For the first month of school, his face haunted her. She watched him talking, laughing, debating, frowning, listening. Every tiny movement of his etched itself in her mind. And in the privacy of her room, she would take them out and savour them like one would savour fine chocolate: admire its visual velvet qualities first, then slowly nibble it, bit by bit, allowing each tiny morsel to melt lovingly on one’s tongue, until it disappears with an evil swallow, unavailable to anyone else. As she unconsciously thought of this analogy, she stroked her tongue across her lips and thirstily swallowed the mounting saliva. When she would introduce herself was only a matter of time. But when would the right time be? She didn’t want to seem coy or false, nor did she want him to vanish as had the other males. The water was too high now, and she could not afford the water to start dripping again. Why, why, why could she not be like other girls?

One day, in early October, the professor announced that by random draw, each member of the class would pair up with another to do a joint paper on a philosophical theme. The professor put half of the class’s names in the hat, and the other half of the class would pick the names out of the hat. She was in the half that would choose; he was not. The time had come.

She waited in her middle seat, rubbing her clammy hands quietly together and praying that she would draw his name. Oh Lord, if you listen to our silly prayers, please answer mine. Suddenly, the hat was at the end of her row. She watched the hat hypnotically; even her hands stilled themselves. She watched the hat being passed from hand to hand; watched as each person slowly took a slip of paper from the hat and casually passed it on. Then it was being handed to her. And somehow she no longer had the hat in her hand but a slip of paper. She stared at it. What if his name was not written on it? What if it was someone else’s? Yet what if it was him? What would she do? As she stared at the paper, she felt a hysterical bubble of laughter rise in her throat and threaten to burst out: she did not know his name!

The rest of the class went by in a blur, and at the end, she managed to find her partner. It was him. Since neither had a class after this one, they decided to have a coffee just to get acquainted.

They had a month to work on their joint project. Not much time, but she felt that she could accomplish her goal by then. When he first suggested that since they only had a month, they should divide up the library research between them, she was a little upset. Was he trying to push her away like the others? Push her out of normalcy and back into the water? She frowned; her eyes narrowed with cold suspicion. But no, he hastened to add that they should meet for coffee practically every day in order to pool their findings. She smiled sunnily at him and didn’t notice that he gulped in air like a drowning man who had just been released from the water.