The Reason

"What are you doing?" a paranoid girl howled at the phone that ogled her from the parallel queue.

"Nothing." the one behind it countered. He didn't understand that the way he held it looked as if he was photographing her.

"You were filming me."

He leered patronisingly. "No, I wasn't. Chill out."

The fact that he had felt the need to clarify such a fact was a warning sign for the questioner, now hunched behind her anti-social friend – more of a temporary lunch partner – who stood in front of her in the hot food queue. She may have offered hiding spaces but was insubstantially shy to fend of any malaise her familiar felt. Evelyn – the name of that familiar – was never like this: hostile and emotional, at least she hadn't been since converting to introversion. She initially looked forward to university and the social connections that came with it, but, upon arrival and introduction to those on her course, she had chosen to spend most of her hours in the campus library despite her need to integrate. Only now, trapped in a claustrophobic hallway filled the people she disliked, could she transform into the internal accuser she used to be, back when things were so much tougher than they were now, when a hopeful light and reason to stay made it impossible to break away. She couldn't back off for a reason, a reason that stood before her.

The Reason's positive glow had faded since those years, but there was still something endearing about it. As it turned towards Phone Boy, directly in front of her, Evelyn wondered how this was possible. Was it the beautiful curved hips that slowly descended into the thin legs of a whimbrel, or the soft embers of its elegant, ginger hair that she had only once felt in a hug? Evelyn knew that hug had been wonderful. She had put ten pounds into the fund for its birthday present sometime back in secondary school, and, in return, the Reason had made its way around the locker room to embrace those who contributed. Initially, it had walked past Evelyn with a fearful tremor, but on the request of its friends, it gave a redundant apology as if it was a subtle mistake and drew her close into a place where Evelyn felt special, a place that eased her into a state of comfort whilst inhaling its prepossessing scent, of perfume and its closeness, its gentle arms promising hope.

Evelyn wished she hadn't been so infatuated. It had made her gullible, careless and blind.

For once in a long, weary time, the Reason noticed Evelyn's presence and showed the acknowledgement through an anxious glance in the opposite direction. Evelyn reciprocated, her eyes down and head turned well away. Together, they aimed to avoid eye contact for, if any occurred, it would match physical pain. The Reason had pupils sharper than pins and upon contact it would draw them into her cornea. Evelyn loved how her and the Reason thought the same but hated what she and the Reason thought.

Momentarily, its eye flashed at her. It caught her stare, hooked into her socket and its haunting leer threatened to pull. Evelyn succumbed to her emotions – guilt and shame and loss – and the ghostly visions of others who joined her in awestruck crowd, spitting at her when she appeared, her Reason their own. They would never understand the heartbreak, nor the shameful therapy, nor the exhausting trips back and forth to the support unit which did nothing to help, for the Reason was a scholar, a dedicated academic and musician who never failed in its pursuits. It was a godly force that captivated all. It had taken the motivation away from Evelyn and fed on it to fuel her own. She would never get it back.

A rushing lecturer clomped down the centre of the queues, sporting his privilege of eating first.

"Good day." He politely greeted the students. Evelyn nor the Reason answered back. He provided a moment of solace between them but, within seconds, the hazy blackness of his suit drifted away and the air thickened into a smog of complex sentiments that were lost to Evelyn's weighted, throbbing heart. Her hands wettened with angst and her breathing began to shallow. Being here was dangerous. Tearing herself away with a sting of tears, she broke from its hold and made an excuse to move into the gap that had opened before her. As she hurried into the canteen, she left the Reason behind, somewhere amongst the crowd, and refused to look back. A motion of grief washed over her like a storm, then anger, biting hard and not letting go. All those years she and it had spent together – watching each other grow up, coincidentally going to the same university – were wasted. They thought alike, they worked alike, and the Reason never accepted it, as if it seemed never to notice. The truth gnawed at her mind, how all that time was now irreplaceable. And who had caused it, this mindless wreckage? Who had betrayed the promise?

Evelyn bought her lunch without thought and went to join her lunch buddy in the hustle of the dining hall. Neither of them spoke a word.

It was only a few minutes later when Evelyn was attentive to a table at her left. She watched a dark-haired boy slip his smartphone into the pocket of his slackened jacket, then reach out his hand to caress the girl before him.

Adoration flushed Evelyn pink. Stupid git. Silently, she chastised herself. Why didn't I see how being shy made the situation uncomfortable? That was where the tension came from – me, my awkwardness. It's my fault. She repeated the line, though she wasn't convinced it was true. It's my fault. It's my fault. I'm a fool. I'm the Reason.

His girlfriend tenderly reciprocated, coy and meek.

If I hadn't been such a jerk, I could have told her. We could have been something. She tried to stop her eyes from welling. She might have felt the same. But now it's too late. I've missed my chance.

Envy snarled its teeth as Phone Boy pulled her to his face. Evelyn felt sick, forced to watch their arousal become evident as he, with wonderous indulgence, rubbed his hand across her warmth, through her redness. He was everything the obsessive admirer couldn't have, and who she had blown the chance to be.

Hope. Evelyn furtively gulped back and choked on her upset. Hope, I love you.

But Hope did not want to listen. The chestnut-haired girl who dominated Evelyn's insubstantial life was too frightened by the matter, and as she focused on the sensation of Phone Boy's lips, she became too occupied to hear the sobs.