I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Four

'I already have.'

'Really read it, don't just pretend to.'

I perused the document and clucked, 'They played one of my favourite Corelli pieces and I didn't even hear it.'

'It was breathtaking.'

'Oh, shut up, you don't know.' I was so cheesed off I almost said that out loud to the actual person sitting to my right. I caught myself just in time and smiled at her, then ignored my imaginary companion and read my programme for the rest of the intermission.

The second half went by much as the first; I tried to be more attentive to the music with little success. I'd never been in the presence of someone so attractive to me that I was compelled to stare. Of course, there was only one logical action—flee. The moment the concert was over I pulled on my greatcoat and made my way to the aisle as coolly as possible, whilst my heart attempted to remove itself from my chest via my ribcage. Lavinia dawdled.

'Would you come on?!'

Pulling on her coat, she snapped, 'If you're so in love with her, why do you avoid her?'

'Oh, do keep your opinions to yourself.'

Once outside I walked around, trying to appear as if I were waiting for someone.

Lavinia watched for a while before offering, 'You look completely daft.'

'Who asked you?' I turned to the empty space near the building that she was occupying, 'What is your problem, anyway?'

She asked sulkily, 'What do you need her for?'

Women.

Eventually Professor Pristin appeared, alone, and made her way up Broad Street. I followed along a little behind her.

Lavinia strolling beside me, asked in a whisper, 'What are we doing?'

'I don't know.'

'That's obvious.'

I sighed at her mood perhaps a little too loudly and Professor Pristin stopped walking. I held my breath until she began searching her pockets for keys and got into her car, a black Audi. As I started walking back to my rooms I asked Lavinia, 'Are you coming back with me or going home?'

But when I looked over she was already gone.

Earlier in the term I had obtained permission to remain in my rooms over winter break, and quite looked forward to having the staircase and kitchen mostly to myself. The first day of the break I made a journey back to my favourite bookshop to pick up copies of several books I'd seen in Professor Pristin's office and I spent the first few days alone. Lavinia wasn't speaking to me—it's pretty horrible when your pretend friends abandon you—so I engaged in my favourite game from childhood: Dying of Consumption. From the time I was eight I would awaken almost every Saturday stricken with the disease and would therefore be forced to sit on the couch, quilt over my legs surrounded by books, paper to write on and a soft animal for comfort. The more sad and woebegone my stuffed companion the better because it added to the general feeling of pity I had for myself. Whilst I enjoyed not having to deal with human beings, I missed the routine of tea with the professor and wrote many stories about our Christmas together, sleigh rides in the snow, ice-skating, wassail and plum pudding.

Two days before Christmas, I received a packet from mother and a letter from Noni. I opened mother's packet first: it contained a bright red turtleneck.

Sometimes I thought the woman had never seen me. It hasn't been okay for ginger-haired people to wear red since the fifties. Yet there it was, a symbol of my mother's love for me: fire engine red and meant to be worn in public. I shoved it in the back of a drawer and opened the letter from Noni. It contained instructions to get the Pre-Raphaelite art book I had asked for as a Christmas present. I wanted to rush straightaway to Blackwell's, but made myself ring Mother first to thank her for the turtleneck, if I didn't I'd never hear the end of it. The trip to the bookstore would be my reward for picking up the phone.