Because You're Different ✔

18. Heels

Nathan

In hindsight, the problem with Lena was that she was the most sincere when she was silently crying. When she was still alive, I'd convinced myself the ecstatic, happy Lena was the only real Lena. After her suicide, I'd started realizing that was a lie.

I remember one time, shortly before graduation, where I'd found her in my bed, staring blindly up at the ceiling, tears streaming down her face. For a boy, I was way too comfortable with girls crying. I'd seen it too many times.

I lay down beside her, and she turned her head towards me. For some strange reason, I'd always loved her neck, slender and strong. It was probably a strange thing to admire, but we were both strange, so it was okay. "You'll be alright without me," she said.

I supposed ordinary people's blood would have turned to ice if someone told them that. I was so used to it it didn't even faze me. "What do you mean?"

"You and Sam," she'd said quietly, voice breaking. "You shouldn't listen to me, you know. You'll be a great lawyer. One of the best."

There she went again. After months of damning my parents for making me go to Stanford, months of rebellious plans, she completely contradicted herself. "Lena, come on. I'll never be a lawyer. I'm not like them, remember?"

"That's exactly while you'll be a great lawyer. I know it." She stretched out her hands above her, forming a small rectangle with them and narrowing her eyes as if looking through a telescope, or a window. "You're more normal than you think, and that's a good thing. I can see you, you know?"

"See me?"

"In the future." She smiled slightly. "You're happy, and you're married to this beautiful, sweet woman, and you're the best father to your sons and daughter, and you're doing all these pro bono cases for Mexican immigrant kids..."

"Lena..."

"No, it's true."

"Can't be. You're not there."

"I know. That's why it's true."

Back then, I'd brushed it off as one of her depressed episodes. After all of my conversations with June though, I was starting to wonder if Lena had been right all along.

I was terrified a girl was going to make me laugh — so much so, that I tried to block out all the voices of students around me. I'd never had a lecture go so excruciatingly slow. Good thing Professor Erickson was a man, and an old one at that, because he was hilarious, especially for a law professor.

I breathed out deeply when it was finally over and I could walk out into the sunlight. Break time. I was planning to reread some of the police reports for Cleo's case, outside on a bench, somewhere where no one would bother me.

It's always the moments when you let down your guard that the thing you're afraid of will happen.

A few paces before me, a girl was trying to walk fast to wherever she needed to be — but she wasn't succeeding. The high heels she was wearing made her wobble — I wanted to warn her — too late.

"Oh, bloody... ugh!" Her heel had snapped, like a mere twig, and her ankle gave way. She continued to hop a few steps, as if she couldn't stop herself, until finally coming to a standstill by the wall. She leaned against it, taking off the shoe to inspect it. "Blasted things..."

In spite of myself, I smiled. Deciding I couldn't just let her figure it out on her own, I approached her. "Need some help?"

She didn't look up, just stared at her broken heel as if she wanted to kill it. "I don't think there's anything you can do unless you have the power to turn me into a man."

There was something no American could deny, and that was that British accents must be one of the most attractive ones in the English-speaking world. I chuckled at her joke, thinking of June and how she refused to wear anything but sneakers. "I know a girl who just doesn't wear them."

For the first time, she turned her attention to me. I didn't know her, I think. She had a young face, something she tried to hide with carefully applied make-up. "Your girl is obviously not an aspiring lawyer, then — ouch!" She had pressed into her own ankle, and clearly, it'd hurt. I could already see it was starting to swell.

"That doesn't look good. Where were you going?"

"Lecture. Hanson."

"Well, that's something you can definitely miss."

She sighed deeply. "Yes, you're probably right. That awful man..." Helplessly, she gazed around her, as if there'd be a sign saying fix your ankle here.

"Would you like me to help you get back to your dorm?" It was only the right thing to ask. At least, we men had never had to wear heels to be taken seriously.

She scanned me, top to bottom, narrowed eyes, as if I was a possible criminal suspect. She probably decided she didn't mind what she saw, because she smiled, creating dimples in her cheeks. "Alright. I'm not getting anywhere on my own anyway."

Fifteen minutes later, she was sitting on her bed while I pressed a washcloth filled with ice cubes to her ankle. Bizarre to hold some strange girl's foot in your hands. She was probably thinking the same, seeing how she was blushing and trying to look everywhere but at me.

"It seems like the swelling's gone down," I said, "and I really need to go now, or I'll be late for my seminar."

"Oh, okay. Of course." She bit her lip, as if trying not to smile. "Well, thank you for your help...?"

"Nathan," I said, suddenly remembering the first grade when Pauline Fisher had given me a love letter in the middle of the hallway and someone had snatched it from me to read it out loud.

"Nathan. I'm Charlotte."

"Great. It was nice to meet you, Charlotte. Apart from the fact you hurt your ankle, of course."

"Yes. Not my best moment."

I stood there, wondering what she expected from me now. I had no idea, so I said an awkward "bye" and left.

In the hallway, I suddenly saw June's big brown eyes before me. The first girl that makes you laugh, you'll have to ask out on a date. Oh, and you'll have to be attracted to her, of course. Or it won't work anyway. Damn. Why was she always like that?

Heart pounding, I turned back, knocking on Charlotte's still open door. When she spotted me, she hurriedly covered a small smile. "Yes?" she said.

"I was wondering," I began, when I realized I had no idea how to do this. Lena had usually just made up the plans, and I was pretty sure ordinary people didn't go camping on their first dates. "Would you like to go for coffee sometime?"