Infatuation

My infatuation with Jessica began on November twenty-ninth, three
years before today. I don't know where it came from, I don't know how
it all happened. I oppressed my emotions, held back the flood. Later, I
would let them all loose.
I've known Jessica for about four and-a-half years. We went to the
same high school together. We were acquaintances for about a year when
we went to take the SAT's. She sat in front of me, and we just started
talking. After we discovered that we were going to the same college, we
were buddies. We hung out after school and sat at lunch together on
occasions. Nothing more, nothing less.
We kept hanging out the summer after graduation, and stayed friends
the same way anyone else would. We went through freshmen orientation
together, had breakfast at nine every morning, and helped each other
study. Buddies.
Today, she was standing by the window in our Ancient and Medieval
Cultures class, waiting for her boyfriend to go past, like she does
every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at half-past ten in the morning.
The moment he walked by, I intently watched her raise her hand, wave to
him, and mouth the words "I love you." As she said those wonderful
words under her breath, I imagined it was me to whom she was speaking,
the sun illuminating her golden blonde hair, her deep blue eyes
sparkling, all for a man I knew truly didn't love her. Then, she took
her seat.
Jessica sat down right down in front of me, swiveled around in her
seat, and said, "Hey, Pete. How 'ya doin'?"
"Was that Chuck?" I asked.
"Yeah," she replied, smiling a smile that I hoped she smiled whenever
someone mentioned my name to her.
"I can't believe you guys are still together."
"Why?"
"Well, you know how it is between high-school sweethearts when they
graduate. Most of my friends aren't still together. And the ones that
are, probably cheating."
"Cheating? Not me and Chuck. I wouldn't even dream of betraying his
trust." I hated hearing those words. I knew something that she didn't.
I tried, not in so many words, to tell her that Chuck, as faithful as
he had been in high school, was definitely cheating on her. He was
cheating on her with a short, fat brunette. Lilly was her name, and she
was nothing like Jessica.
I have only seen Lilly a few times, but the first time I saw her and
Chuck together, I knew something was going on. They were having lunch
together in the dining hall. He had taken off his hat and put a napkin
on his lap, something Jessica hadn't seen in a year. I watched them the
entire time, playing footsies under the table, feeding each other
French fries, and Chuck even went as far as to eat melted cheese off of
her fingers. After they were finished with their display, they disposed
of their trays, left the dining hall, and went their separate
ways.
The second time I saw Lilly, it was in passing. She was with two of
her female friends, and as our paths crossed, I overheard her saying
something to the effect that her and Chuck were meeting at a frat party
that Friday. I stopped, turned around, and watched the trio continue
down the sidewalk. Shaking my head in utter disbelief, I turned back
around and continued on my way.
The last time I saw her was that Friday night. Jessica said Chuck told
her he was going home for the weekend to spend time with the family
(mom had just had another baby). I decided to play James Bond, and see
if he would make an appearance like Lilly had said he would. Indeed he
did. I sat idly by on the couch out of direct view for about half an
hour. When he entered the party, Lilly greeted him with a kiss on the
cheek. That got me thinking. When they left together, a few hours
later, that got me wondering. I followed them on foot to their final
destination: Chuck's dorm room.

"Well, that's good that you two trust each other like you do. College
life leaves a man with too much temptation," I said, guilelessly.
"But, there's that trust thing, again. I trust Chuck, and he trusts
me. Besides, I'd kill him if he even looked at another female."
"Now, that's real love," I sarcastically replied, my heart half-filled
with warm emotions, the other half filled with remorse. I knew that in
the near future her heart would ache like mine ached right now. And I
was going to be the one that was there to catch her when she fell. I
was going to be the one that caught her in my arms, and I was never
going to let her go.
Almost two weeks passed. I went to class three times a week. I waited,
but Jessica never showed up. I began to wonder if something was wrong.
Had she dropped the class? Or worse, had she found out about Chuck? I
hoped for the first; I prayed for the latter.
I couldn't stand it any longer. I woke up Thursday morning, got
showered, dressed, and put on my best cologne. I took my time walking
over to Jessica's apartment, and when I finally got there, I saw
Chuck's car parked outside. It was a strange feeling pitting itself in
my gut. I was scared, nervous, and flabbergasted, all at the same time.
So, I did the right thing: I left. I was about fifty yards from her
front door when I heard her screaming. I turned around, looked in the
direction from where the yelling was coming, and saw Chuck standing in
the doorway, his back to me. I took refuge behind a fat oak tree,
watching and listening. They were arguing. I took note, then listened
more carefully.
"Well, if that's what you want, it's fine with me," Chuck yelled into
the doorway. Jessica shouted something inaudible, something I couldn't
make out as far away as I was. Then she appeared in the doorway.
"What I want?" she cried out, her eyes red with tears. "It's obvious
what you want. You've shown me what you want. You don't want to be with
me."
"I don't want to be with you? You're the one who's breaking up with
me," Chuck defended himself. "I do want to be with you. She means
nothing to me. I wasn't thinking right. You're the only one I want to
be with."
"But, you fucked her, you goddamn asshole. You went behind my back,
and you fucked some little bitch. You don't do that to someone you're
supposed to love. How long, Chuck? How long have you been fucking
her?"
Chuck hesitated, but the finally came clean. "Something like a month,
but," Jessica's face twisted itself in disgust, and Chuck tried to save
himself, "it means nothing to me. She means nothing to me. I love
you."
"'You love me'? You don't love me. Let me ask you this: were there any
others?"
Chuck was quiet for some time. Jessica waited on pins and needles, and
I was there, glaring at him over her shoulder, waiting for his
response. He came clean again. "One," he said, lowly.
"Who?" Jessica asked.
"Why do we have to get into that, now?" Chuck asked.
"Who, Goddammit?!" she roared.
Chuck lowered his head, his mouth fumbling with words, just words.
Sometimes it seems as thought all we have is words. Words to hurt,
words to heal, words to express our innermost emotions. When do we show
how we feel?
"Chuck, who?" Jessica inquired once again.
"It's gonna change everything."
"You already changed it all. You betrayed me. You took my heart, and
threw it in my face. You stole your heart away from me, and gave it to
someone else. That's what hurts the most."
"I am truly sorry. What more can I say? I am so sorry."
"Just go. Leave. Don't call me. Go away, and don't look back."
"I'll always look back, and remember how I fucked my life up."
"Yeah, you did. Go."
"Please, can't we talk some more?"
"We've been talking about this for two weeks, now. What more do you
want?"
"I want another chance."
"No, absolutely not. This isn't the first time this has happened. No
more second chances. Look, I don't ever want to see you. Never again.
Please, just go."
"Fine," he said quietly, his head down.
Chuck turned his back, and started to his car. Jessica slammed the
door shut and stomped up the stairs. Chuck started his car, and began
to drive away. I crept around the tree when he drove past. I knew if he
saw me, it would freak him out, and we would start fighting, and
Jessica would have to choose sides. I would never do that to her after
what had just happened.
I sat on my haunches behind the tree, paralyzed, not knowing what to
do. I held my face in my hands. I didn't know whether to cry, to laugh,
or to go running to her, throw my arms around her, and tell her what
I've been wanting to tell her for three years, three of the longest
years of my life. I did what I thought was best; I left.
I left and went straight back to my room. I sat at my computer, and I
took how I felt, the emotion that had been building up, and put it all
on paper. I worked for what seemed like an hour, but when I looked up
and out the window, it was dark, and the street lights had awakened. I
printed out the poem, two pages, and put it in an envelope, sealed it,
and lay it on my desk, ready to go to class with me tomorrow.
The professor came in, and prepared to begin the class. I knew she
wouldn't be there, and I wasn't surprised that when the professor
dismissed the class, she still wasn't there. I packed my book and
notebook, got up and started to the door, and there she was. She ran in
to the professor, and began to tell her the worst story I never would
have imagined to come from her mouth. I stood there, listening. She
told the professor that she had been with her grandmother for the past
two weeks, and she wasn't thinking straight.
"She's been real sick, and I just hoped that my being there would help
her to help herself. The doctor said she has to want to live," she
explained, even starting to cry.
"Miss Machak, I would have hoped you would have at least called me to
inform me of what was going on; I would have expected more from you.
You are one of my best students, and I really don't want to see you
fail. I'll help you get caught up, and give you the tings you missed,
that way, I can be assured you are on the right track again."
"Thank you, thank you. I didn't want to see my college career go down
the tubes because I was irresponsible."
"I wouldn't exactly call it irresponsible. I prefer noble. That's why
I'm going to excuse you."
"I really do appreciate that. I promise to make up all the work I've
missed, and then some."
"That shows good responsibility. I think you'll have a promising
future."
"Thank you, Professor Cavill. I have to get to my next class, and
explain where I've been. Thanks again." She waved as she exited the
classroom. I was there when she came through the door.
"Hi, Pete. Where you been?"
"I was about to ask you the same question. Was all that true?" I asked
as we started walking down the hall.
"Ahh, no, not really. I was with my grandma, and she was sick. I think
she coughed like three times while I was there."
"I can't believe you," I said, giggling a little. "But that was
'noble' of you. How long, exactly, were you with her?"
"Well, I did spend the weekend at her house."
"So," I asked, hoping she'd tell me the truth, "where were you all
this time? At your grandma's?"
"I just needed a break; that's all. Things got kinda complicated, and
I needed to be alone."
"Things?" I asked, genuinely concerning myself.
"Yeah, things," she replied, looking away from me.
"Anything I can help you with?"
"No, of course not. My problems are sometimes too much for even me to
handle."
"Whatever it is, I am gonna be here when you need me, even if it's
just to talk, or to make you laugh, or to give you a hug. I'd do
anything to make you smile. I consider you one of my best friends, and
I don't want to see any of my best friends in pain. Hell, If you needed
a kidney, and I only had one left, I would be happy to cut open my
belly with a butter knife if it meant making you feel better."
"Goddammit, Pete. Why do you always have to do this to me?" she said.
Even though she was laughing and smiling, I could see her soul crying,
crying out to love, the only thing she was trying to fight.
"Why? I don't know. Maybe because I love you."
"Then why didn't you tell me? All this time I knew, and you never told
me."
"I don't know. I'm just not like that. I can't come right out and say
what I'm feeling. I have this brick wall, and I have to get over it
before I can let someone else into my world."
"And why me?"
"Because you're genuine. You don't put up a front. You stand up, and
you don't care what anyone thinks. You don't have to hide behind
anything or anyone."
"Pete, Chuck cheated on me, and we had a big fight."
"Are you okay?" I asked, my mind going back to that moment, that very
moment when I saw her standing in the doorway, telling him it was all
over.
"I wasn't, but I'm getting over it."
"You have to give it time. You'll be okay. Remember, you always have
my shoulder to lean on."
"You are one of my best friends, aren't you?"
"I try."
We kept on talking until we came to her door. We said our goodbyes,
and she gave me a warm hug and I told her to call me if she needed
anything. She said I would be the first person she called, and I hoped
she would be calling me soon.

"Every night, in my dreams you are;
Every day, I think of you.
I think of how your smile
Brightens up my life.
I think of how your eyes
Render me speechless.
I think of how your voice
Melts my heart,
And warms my soul.
Sometimes I think
Of how my life would be
If we were together,
And it scares me to think
I could ever feel like that
About someone,
Someone so very special to me.
I want to be more than just friends.
I want to share something with you,
Something I have saved for someone like you:
I want to give you all my love,
All the love I have in my heart.
I want to love you the way
No one else can.
I want you to feel
Like the queen you are."
I dropped the poem on her doorstep, knowing she was sure to find it
the next morning. Then I left quietly, the moon my only companion
tonight.
The next morning, grabbing my book bag and checking myself one last
time in the mirror, I left for class early. I stepped out the door, and
started walking as usual to Spotts' World Cultures building. I expected
to find her sitting at her seat, waiting for me. Instead, I saw her
coming towards me dorm. My palms started to sweat, my entire being
trembled, butterflies tickled my stomach, and spiders danced on my
spine. I thought about turning around and running to hide in my room,
but I found myself walking even faster to her.
We met in the courtyard, and I tried to read her body language before
she said anything, but her expressions had nothing to say. There we
were, standing face to face. The tension was unbearable. I waited for
her to speak. I had already said everything. She was looking down at
the ground. She looked up to me, looked into my eyes.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi."
"I got your letter. It was very sweet."
"Thanks. I meant all of it."
"I know you did. How come you let all this time pass? How come you
never let on to the way you felt?"
"Well, I didn't want to complicate things. I almost didn't take it to
your house. I thought that you would be mad at me for doing what I did,
since you and Chuck just broke up."
"I'm not mad. Shocked, yes. But not mad. Then, again, I'm not really
sure how to feel right now."
"I don't understand. Is that a bad thing or a good thing?" I
asked.
"I don't know. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm afraid of
getting hurt. I'm trying to look out for myself. That's what everyone's
telling me: look out for yourself. Put yourself first. Don't let this
happen again. I keep thinking that I should have been smarter. I should
have seen this coming."
"No one can see something like this coming. I know I could never hurt
someone I cared about like that. It would kill me to see someone I
loved to be in pain, especially if I kmew it was me that caused the
pain."
"Why do you say things like that? Why do you make me feel like I
should have been with oyou all this tiome?"
"Because I care about you . I don't want to see you in pain. You and
your feelings mean a lot to me."
"God, I was so stupid."
"No, no you weren't. We all have to have our hearts broken once in our
lives. You're a human, and everyone else is human. That's what humans
do. They hurt each other. Some do it intentionally, others don't even
know they're doing it."
"Chuck knew what he was doing. He knew he was hurting me," she said,
her voice crumbled, her heart on the verge of a meltdown.
"He probably wasn't thinking about how you would feel. He was thinking
about himself at the time. He was being selfish, and that's one of the
things that makes him human."
"I think he's more pig that human," she answered.
"Well," I said, hoping to better my position, "even pigs are
monogamous."
"I guess you're right," she half laughing, half choking back tears. I
could see she was fighting the very tears that were her only friends in
the hardest times of her life.
"Let it go. It only helps you," I told her, wanting so much to be able
to cure her heart.
"Oh, Jesus," she cried out, dropping her books and falling to the
ground. She was crying. She was crying harder than I have ever seen
anyone cry. I had no idea what to do. I wanted to hold her, but I was
afraid. I was afraid of her pushing me away. My heart was breaking with
hers, and I felt the pain that she was enduring right now, the
incredible pressure in her chest, a pressure so intense breathing
became a chore rather than an exhilarating process of life.
The feeling of hours passed, and I stood there watching her lamenting
at the loss of love. I kneeled down on the warm cement beside her. I
wrapped my arms around her, silently telling her that this is not the
end. Moments passed, and I came to a conclusion. I realized what others
have overlooked for centuries. After all the tools are broken, and
after all the crops have died, and after all the papers have been
burned, and after all the buildings have toppled, and after all the new
ideas have ceased to be thought, all we have is love. The only thing
that will never die, or be killed, or leave us, or run away is love.
That is what makes us human.