December 7th, 2005
A sense of doom materializes over my head as we catapult into the last week of the semester. Despite the wintry decorations on Church Street and the dilapidated, dollar store Christmas decorations draped over every off-campus porch, I feel more depressed than ever. The end of one semester means that half of the year is already over, making me that much closer to becoming a college graduate with no real sense of direction or life goals. My dismal, not-so-distant future is becoming a more concrete and unavoidable reality.
Everyone else is happy, the voices sneer. What's wrong with you?
Weary, I park my car along Arch Street and shove a few coins into the meter. With final exams around the corner, the Burnie is constantly at max capacity. It's been difficult to study comfortably there, let alone find a quiet and secluded spot. Though I normally avoid being near Church Street during the holidays, Mal suggested we try studying together at a diner he's been frequenting before heading to the last prayer night of the semester.
The last thing I want to do is to go to another one of Mal's prayer nights. He's dragged me out to a few of them in the past, and each time I sulked in the corner wishing the ground would swallow me whole. It's one thing to attend and watch other people connect with a God who's completely forgotten about you. But it's an entirely different thing when your best friend, who is beloved by all, is the one running the dog and pony show.
My breath comes out in shapeless puffs as I walk. The street lamps along Church Street glow against the darkening sky. Giant snowflakes made of lights are affixed to each lamp, brightening the length of the street. Flurries have been on the forecast daily, but none have fallen. It's only a matter of time, I grumble. Snow means limited parking on campus, waking up early to shovel and clean off my car, running on treadmills instead of outdoors, along with other tedious things...
I pass a frosted window looking into a café, where couples flirt across tables and overpriced sugar drinks. I roll my eyes with irritation and trudge onwards. Why does the entire campus seem to couple up during the month of December? There's nothing romantic about cold weather, impending snow, mistletoe, capitalism, or the baby Jesus. Everywhere I turn, students flood the bookstore, pizzerias, and coffeeshops, seeming cheerful and happy. Up ahead, a pretty girl gazes sweetly into her lover's eye and kisses him sweetly. I ignore the familiar, dull thudding in my chest and walk on, taking care to avoid eye contact as I pass them.
Hunching my shoulders against the brittle wind, I cross the street towards the old brick diner with a pink neon sign that reads "Jake's." As I push my way through the doors, my nasal passages are assaulted by smells of pork grease, stale onions, and old people. Mal waves from one of the beat-up booths in the back of the restaurant, weary a goofy grin.
"Hey," I grunt, warily observing the worn red vinyl seat.
"Sit!" Mal beams, shoving a plate of half-eaten meatloaf and roasted carrots towards me.
I shake my head and hold up a hand. "No thanks."
Mal pulls a face. "Deb won't be happy. Just try a bite!"
"Who's Deb? Your girlfriend?" I smirk.
A plump arm appears across the table, refilling Mal's empty coffee mug.
"He wishes!"
A middle-aged woman with a name tag that reads "Deborah" gazes loftily at us, her wispy orange hair clashing with the bright blue of her eyeshadow. "If ya only knew me back in my actin' days," she says coyly, her voice crackly and rough from years of smoking.
"You're still beautiful, Deb," Mal gushes sweetly, pouring cream into his coffee.
"Shucks, honey. That mouth of yours will getcha in trouble," she purrs, batting her lashes.
Straightening, she glances from Mal to me with a surveying look.
"Heavens to Betsy! Aren't you handsome?" she remarks, running her eyes over my body. Winking, she grins. "Coffee, sweetheart?"
"Uh, no. Thank you," I mutter. "Just the house salad. With chicken."
"It's a shame ya didn't see me in my glory days," Deb sniffs. She casts me a simpering look before whisking away.
Mal's snicker explodes into laughter as my shoulders drop. I feel blood rush to my face and want nothing more than to disappear under the table.
"Don't mind Deb—she was... she was just being nice," he gasps in between snorts.
"I don't like being ogled at," I grumble, pulling out Principles of Genetics, one of my heavier textbooks.
Mal spears a hunk of the meatloaf with his fork and waves it in front of my face.
"What's the purpose of all your gains at the gym if you don't show off every now and then?" he quips playfully.
"My gains are about discipline. Strength. Control. They're for me, not anyone else," I reply sharply, giving him a look. "Isn't narcissism a sin?"
Mal laughs, sticking the fork of meatloaf into his mouth like a lollipop. "There's plenty of warnings in the Bible against loving yourself too much. But it's not a crime to look good."
"It's not like there's anyone in my life I'd show off to, anyway," I say darkly, flipping to a chapter about population genetics. I make it through a paragraph or two before I speak up again. "I don't care about having someone special in my life. Romance is stupid. I can feel you watching me," I mutter without looking up. "Spit it out."
"Arielle's right," Mal chews thoughtfully. "You've grown more spikes in the last four years I've been gone. Have you even tried putting yourself out there? A little love can be a powerful antidote to—"
"Wait, back up. You've been talking to Arielle about me?" I ask, tensing up.
"Uh," Mal stutters. "It's not like that—"
"Why are you even talking to my little sister?" I demand. "What are you playing at?"
"Look, it's not—"
Whatever excuse Mal is about to spit gets derailed by Deb's arrival with my salad. I nod stiffly to her before whirling back towards Mal.
"—For the record, I would never start anything with your sister without your father's permission or yours," Mal rushes, holding up his hands.
I snort derisively.
"Yeah," I mutter, nudging the saltshaker mindlessly. "Okay."
"With that said, I think you sell yourself short," he adds. "When's the last time you actually gave someone a chance to get to know you?"
"I don't know," I reply monotonously, stabbing the salad unenthusiastically. "Hasn't felt worth it to try. That kind of girl doesn't exist."
"I'd tell you to have more faith, but I know how you'll respond to that," he laughs.
"Easy for you to say, as the guy getting all of the female attention."
My words come out more acerbic than I intend, and I feel my ears burn.
Mal leans back in his seat and folds his arms, assessing.
"I have a hunch, call it a gut feeling... things are about to change for you, my friend," Mal smiles with a twinkle in his eye that I find incredibly annoying.
"Maybe, maybe not," I grumble. "Doesn't matter either way. I already know she doesn't exist."
"Hm," Mal hums.
I flip a page in my textbook as our conversation comes to a lull. Several tables away, Deb seats a big group of rowdy frat boys who sweeten her up.
"There's a concert at the café in Cooper's on Friday night," Mal says suddenly. "It's free. Cheryl and Marco are gonna go. Oh, and Arielle's coming, too. You should come. You don't socialize enough!"
I tense at the mention of Arielle. I don't feel particularly festive any time of the year, but if Arielle is going then I should go just to make sure Mal doesn't try anything stupid with her.
"Sure," I intone. "Can I eat in peace now? And read? I need to finish this chapter before we go to your thing tonight."
"Yeah," Mal grins. With a sigh, he turns his gaze to the window looking out to Church Street. "Being here is a dream, Aram. I'm having the time of my life. You are so lucky to have spent the last four years here at Copper Hill."
I roll my eyes and ignore him. But even as I turn my attention back to my textbook, I can't help but feel as though the universe just accepted a challenge to see how much further I can be humiliated.
Several hours later, I shake my legs restlessly while surveying the scene before my eyes. As usual, the lights are dimmed in Condor 120, and soft music plays from the arena down below where Mal paces back and forth with his arms stretched wide, head bowed in fervent prayer. His friend Cheryl kneels on the floor with her face lifted upwards. All around me, students are huddled together in small groups. Their whispers dance across the lecture hall, punctuated by the occasional sniffle or cry.
I scrunch the hood around my face more tightly and purse my lips. A long time ago, I held the belief that if I tried hard enough or checked all the right boxes in life that God would give me what I asked.
The sound of a shutting door jerks me from my thoughts. A girl scurries inside, bringing a gust of cold air with her. To my surprise, she shuffles into the row right in front of me, even though there are plenty of other seats for her to choose. She makes quick work of unbuttoning her coat, and a curtain of wavy, impossibly dark hair tumbles down her back as she pulls the jacket off. Her shoulders tense as she drops into her seat. She leans over herself and cradles her head into her hands, the movement making her seem somehow sad and alone. I stare at her from behind, an odd sensation growing in my chest. Who is she? I haven't noticed her at prayer night before. I watch as her black hair ripples beneath the dimmed lights and wonder what a girl like her would talk to God about.
Down below in the arena, Mal clears his throat.
"Feel free to move around the room or come down to the front and Cheryl and I will pray with you," he announces.
Several people begin to rise from their seats and shuffle down towards Mal. Two girls clutch each other – one sobs into the other's shoulder, while other students walk swiftly down the steps. I glance around at the rustle of movement across the lecture hall. Nearly everyone leaves their seats, except for a few of us still scattered around the room, including myself and the girl sitting in front of me.
A memory from long ago surfaces to mind. I had been younger, barely a teenager – and I was standing in a large crowd in a darkened room, like this one. The music playing from the stage was peaceful and beautiful, and the leader was inviting us to respond with a prayer of commitment. Something stirred in me that night, a spark that convinced me I was not alone in the universe. I raised my hands in a moment of wild abandon with tears streaming down my face because in that moment, I truly believed God loved me. And for a time, I did feel God's love and presence in my life – but whatever presence of God I felt then has long since departed.
I glance nervously around the room, feeling more and more uneasy as people begin to cry with emotional fervor.
You're an imposter, a cold voice begins to mock me in my head. You don't belong here.
"What the hell am I doing here?" I curse angrily under my breath. I watch as Mal and Cheryl lay their hands across multiple people at once, their prayers cresting with people's sobs.
Jealousy, bitterness, and exhaustion seeps into my bones as I exhale a weary sigh. I simultaneously want to leave this space and wish I could feel as free as the rest of the people moving around the room. What would it take for me to feel alive again? I'm tired...
I hear a sudden sniffle – the girl sitting in front of me is crying. I whip my head around to see if there's anyone who can come help her, but there are no other people sitting around us. I stare at the back of her head, feeling trapped. Damnit! What should I do? I'm the worst person to be stuck in this situation!
I consider leaving altogether right then. But as I watch her frame tremble, I realize I can sense her desperation. Something inside her is hurting, and that pain somehow speaks to me. My fingers tingle with a strange warmth, and my heart begins to hammer. Before I can process another thought, my hand shoots out and presses gently on the girl's shoulder. We both startle at the touch. Mortified, I watch as she begins to turn.
Her small, pink mouth parts with surprise. Her eyes are deep brown wells that glisten in the low light of the room. I realize with panic that she is rather stunning.
"I... uh..." my voice cracks as I try to find my words. "C-can I pray for you?"
The words sound incredibly stupid as they tumble out of my mouth.
You haven't prayed for anyone or anything in ages, you dolt! What makes you think you have anything good to say?!
I ignore the clamor in my brain and zero in on her expression for a response, painfully aware of my thumping heart. After what feels like an eternity, she nods and bows her head. I mutter a few words quietly, trying to hide the fact that my hand is shaking.
"Thank you," she smiles when I finish.
My face flushes as I remove my hand from her shoulder and quickly bring it to my lap. Her smile is warm and real, and I'm suddenly very conscious of how grubby I must look to her right now with several days' growth on my face. But just as I open my mouth to reply, she turns forward as though our interaction never happened.
Dazed, I stare blankly at the back of her head. What just happened?
Moments later, the prayer night ends and people begin to meander back to their seats. Happy chatter fills the air as everyone mingles. Down below, Mal is smiling and talking to Cheryl, who has begun to pack up her belongings. But the girl who'd been sitting in front of me is nowhere to be seen.
I rise quickly from my seat and scan the room. I glance around at the numerous exits lining the lecture hall, looking for the black sheen of her hair. Who was she and where did she go?
Finally, after checking the faces across the room for the fourth time, I relent. To my surprise, I'm filled with a mild disappointment.
What did you think would happen, genius? She probably thinks you're a creep, just like every other girl you meet—
"Shut up," I mutter to no one.
Without wasting another second, I swivel my backpack onto my shoulder and slip out of the lecture hall. I need to get out of this place.
---
"Want some?" Arielle waves a bag of popcorn in front of me two nights later in Cooper's Student Center. I scowl at her hand in my face, already annoyed by the bright lights coming from the raised platform where the performance will take place.
"No thanks," I reply, wanting the Christmas concert to begin so that I can go home.
"I'll take some!" Mal pipes from my left.
To my displeasure, Arielle and Mal begin to pass the bag of popcorn back and forth. I had insisted on sitting in between the two of them, but I regret my decision now that crumbs are dusting my black jacket. I could have sat with Cheryl and Marco, but then I would have been their third wheel as well. Arielle begins to giggle, making my expression darken.
The seats around us begin to fill up with stragglers. It's a big turnout for a tiny, no-name concert on a Friday night. I sigh mournfully, wishing I was anywhere else than here stuck between my sister flirting with my best friend.
"Ooh, look! They're about to begin!" Arielle whispers excitedly, retracting the popcorn bag with Mal's hand still in it.
"Just a little more—" Mal whines.
"Would you two stop it?" I gripe, brushing popcorn kernels off my lap.
"Good evening, y'all! Thanks for coming out to this holiday jam," a voice booms into the microphone. A boy with bleached, messy hair and ripped jeans clutches a guitar from the stage. Standing next to him is a slender, brown-haired girl wearing a drapey, blue sweater. "I'm Chase, this is my girlfriend Elly, and we're gonna sing some tunes for you tonight."
A light smatter of applause and whooping follows his introduction. Chase grins at the recognition and waves a hand towards the back of the stage. "Thanks, guys. My friend Cassie is joining us on the keys tonight, and she's wicked good! Everyone, say hi to Cassie!"
I look over to the third person standing on the stage at the keyboard and do a double-take.
There aren't many times in life where the universe shows me favor. In fact, most of the time, the world seems to actively work against my happiness. But tonight, the universe has decided to have a sense of humor by dangling fate before my eyes.
It's unmistakably her – the girl from last night. She smiles and tucks a strand of long black hair behind her ear. My heart thumps a little faster. What is she doing here?
I try to pay attention as Chase and Elly begin to sing, but I can't stop watching Cassie. She's almost unrecognizable from the sad, teary girl from last night. Her hands dance over the keys and her body moves with lightness and joy with the music. She keeps in perfect time with Chase's guitar, and occasionally throws in a few well-matched harmonies over Elly's earnest vocals. Everything she does is captivating. Mesmerized, I watch her through the remainder of the concert, drawn to her mysterious aura and beauty.
When the concert is over, everyone stands and cheers. I should go and talk to her, I surmise with a new and unfamiliar confidence. As I rise and start to move towards the stage, I'm cut off by others who rush forward to chat with the musicians. Annoyed, I turn to look for Arielle – only to see that she and Mal have scurried off into a corner booth, chatting intimately. I scowl in their direction. How predictable of them to couple off and immediately forget that I exist. With a sigh, I slink away from the happy crowd and look for an exit. Mal and Arielle won't miss me if I leave. I push my way out of Cooper's and brace myself for the cold.
There's a bite in the air but I don't mind. Out here, I can think clearly and breathe. I pace across the concrete pavers facing Fiore Street and draw deep breaths, unsure of why I feel on edge.
You've grown more spikes in the last four years I've been gone. When's the last time you actually gave someone a chance to get to know you?
Mal's words echo in my head, unwilling to go away. How is he supposed to understand what the past four years have been like for me? How would he know what it feels like to wake up each day without a sense of purpose, significance, or meaning? What I would give to know some semblance of connection or reason to hope that my life could look different...
A sudden noise interrupts my thoughts. The door behind me swings open and shuts as a presence hijacks my peace.
"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't think anyone else would be out here..."
Several feet away, the girl called Cassie appears. My eyes widen with surprise. It cannot be a coincidence that we keep meeting like this.
"I-I can go," she chuckles, turning. "You look occupied—"
"No, stay," I blurt, too quickly. "I mean – please, stay. I don't mind the company."
She smiles and sticks her hands in her pockets, shuffling her feet. She's petite, slightly shorter than I am, which is rare. Even beneath the cloud-covered canopy of the night sky, her features are lovely.
"You... uh, sounded amazing tonight," I say, even though my tongue feels momentarily stuck to the roof of my mouth. "I'm Aram, by the way."
"Nice to meet you," she replies. "I'm Cassie."
"I know," I say too quickly, instantly regretting my awkwardness. "I mean—I know that because Chase introduced you and all."
"Right," she smiles, kicking a foot.
Afraid I'll lose my nerve if I don't keep the conversation going, I barrel on.
"Are you a music major? You play like you are one," I gesture.
"No," she replies, glancing up. "I'm a biology major, on track to get into medical school."
"Oh, so you're one of those insomniac pre-med majors?" I jest, unable to help myself. Christ...why did I say it like that? What's wrong with me?
But Cassie laughs, a genuine and playful sound I decide I like.
"Not quite an insomniac, but yes," she grins. "What do you have against pre-med majors?"
"Nothing," I say glibly. "I've since converted."
She looks at me with surprise. "Wait, you were pre-med?"
"For only half a semester," I reassure her. "I came in as a pre-med major but soon realized it wasn't the field for me. I switched into psychology, then history, then philosophy for one semester, and then back to biology but without the pre-medicine focus. And now I've run out of time to switch anymore, I graduate next semester."
"So, you're well-read and have a lot of interests," she remarks.
My mouth opens and closes with surprise. It's the first time I don't feel dismissed when talking to someone about school. Typically, when I bring up school with my family or housemates, I feel like a failure. But it doesn't seem like Cassie sees me that way. Bolstered, I continue.
"Maybe, maybe not. Some would say I'm confused," I acknowledge. What am I doing? I barely know her, but somehow, she makes me feel accepted.
"Oh, I feel confused more often than I'd like to admit," she chuckles.
"Oh yeah?"
"Sure," she offers, looking into the distance. "Sometimes, it feels as though everyone in the world wants me to be something or someone. It's like the weight of the world is on my shoulders... and no one around me understands the pressure I feel inside. I wish I had more time to figure it out, but it doesn't feel like I have much of a choice."
I stare at her. She has no idea how often the same thought has crossed my mind as of late.
"If... you don't mind me asking," I begin, "are you also a senior?"
"No! I'm a freshman," Cassie giggles. "I just got here. Why? What's wrong?" she asks, watching my expression.
"N-nothing," I shrug. "You just seem much more self-aware than most people your age."
"Really?" she asks pensively. "If I'm honest, I don't really understand people my age. Most of my friends are more concerned about having fun than anything else. It seems a bit irresponsible and excessive if you ask me."
I look at her with wonder. Is it possible to feel this strong of a connection to a total stranger?
"Maybe it's not you," I hear myself say.
She glances at me with surprise, and I feel emboldened.
"Maybe it's everyone else," I continue. "Maybe you're just more mature for your age. People don't always recognize the truth even when it's right in front of their face."
She gazes upwards with a smile. There's a small dimple in her cheek, a tiny detail I pocket away for later.
"Thank you," she says, "for what you did the other night. For praying with me. I've been going through some things, and you made me feel less alone. I'm glad we bumped into each other again so that I could thank you properly."
"Yeah, o-of course," I stammer. Why is my heart beating so fast?
Suddenly, she gasps.
"What? What is it?" I ask, alarmed.
Cassie lifts her hands up and her whole face lights up with happiness. She turns to me, dark eyes shining and lips pink from the cold.
"It's snowing! Look!"
I follow her line of vision and see that indeed, it is snowing. Fat, fluffy white flakes of snow drift down from the night sky, landing on my face and on the black of Cassie's hair. Just my luck, I gripe. I hate sno—
But Cassie bursts into laughter, the sound peppering my thoughts.
"I love this!" she gushes, twirling around with delight.
Something peculiar catches in my chest as I watch her dance in the snowfall. She is full of life, wonder, and intrigue. As she spins, a lock of her wavy black hair falls loose, and I feel a disconcerting urge to tuck it behind her ear. What would it be like to be with someone like her?
The snow begins to fall thicker and thicker. The two of us marvel as the world around us is slowly blanketed by snow. When I think about it, I guess snow can be beautiful for a time, even if that time is fleeting. Like this moment with Cassie...
She's too good for you. No one will ever love you like that.
I grimace as the voices begin to surge. Not for the first time, I desperately wish for them to shut the hell up.
You're going to fail, the voices continue. Nothing you do will ever be good enough—
But as I gaze up at Cassie, the voices instantly fade. She is golden innocence and white clarity with flushed cheeks and tiny snowflakes adorning her midnight eyelashes and hair. My heart is a thundering herd of horses, and I'm suddenly seized by a sudden and overwhelming sense of resolve.
"Cassie," I hear myself say.
"Yeah?" she says, stopping mid-spin to face me.
I take a deep breath and ignore the wild thumps of my heart against my chest.
"Will you go out with me?"