I'm walking down the cafeteria hallway holding a laptop that took twenty minutes to fix. I spot her packing up her possessions from the table, everything too spread out for her not to have eaten alone, but she's smiling as usual and it spreads to my lips.
I hear my name and I stop not because someone was talking to me but because they were talking about me something that never happens or never used to until they started to see who I really was and fall in love with that- Clapping me on the shoulders, sending me emails, adding me on Facebook congratulating me publicly giving me hugs stopping me in the hall turning history into a discussion about me being a superhero for those in need of help. all because I have developed the guts to say something or rather, write something nobody else admits to being able to say.
My name comes from that table on the left up against the lockers first seat on the far end after the bar my old seat, for two years. It's those memories that have allowed me to say what I've said- those memories of losing everything of rebuilding, from scratch of having my lips bleed because they are so unused they crack of finding the darkest emotions and recovering.
I walk five more feet and turn right. She looks up as I approach. I hand her her laptop and charger, smiling as she is. always is, always has been. "It's done, it works" I say, enthusiastically. Her eyes widen in surprise "really?" I nod "it only took a few minutes, it should be better"
she scoops up her stuff and we walk away from that place together as we always used to, freshman year when our round table sat in that exact spot.
But three years have changed a lot: she's smiling in my presence and we split, heading opposite directions. her to her locker me to the library.
I hear the faint words "merci beaucoup" as I pass the 3rd post
And for a second, I want to turn back. To walk with her like I used to her but actually talk to her.
I continue walking.
"Four years change a person" I think as I climb every stair as I have, for four years. I stop for a second, three quarters of the way up and watch the way the sunlight drifts in from the door window. A beauty I never would have seen then. I would have been too entranced in her and now I walk alone. I would have been far too depressed by my own problems to say what I have. I may be a stronger person a better person than sitting there at that round table but I always someone then. Now I stand in stairwells alone