Parallel Lines

I was silently counting and when I hit thirty I was going to look up again to make sure I wasn’t imagining it.

When I looked up, they looked away.

So I wasn’t imagining it.

The next week was study week and I arrived at the library under the context of studying but it was really to see them again. It was the perfect cover to appear like everybody else who put everything off for the semester. 

I sat down next to them and pretended not to notice, but I did and so did they. 

I read the same pages and over and over again four hours.

When the library closed and they gathered their books and stood up, I knew what that pause was, I just couldn’t ask them yet.

I didn’t even know their name.

This time I really was studying but I welcomed the interruption. They again sat down next to me, and moving my books aside to make space was the opening. 

It was a surface level conversation, nothing deep, but I was sure the get her name this time.

I was sitting on the steps overlooking the parade when she came up to me to say hello, and when they said they were on their way to class I lied and told them so was I. 

It took us forever to get there. 

At the end of the semester when we were all standing online to register my first thought was to just leave and come back later, but she waved from across the hall and motioned for me to cut in.

An inquiry as to what classes I was taking, and to my surprise the next semester we happen to be in the same class.

Reading Shakespeare to each other, why didn’t I slip it in and ask you to lunch?

We knew where to find each other in the library, and we did, either one of us could have studied elsewhere or at home. 

I could tell they were preoccupied with something heavy the moment I sat down.

They explained that in their culture they could only be a doctor and that they needed to start preparing for application to med school.

Did they even want to be a Doctor?

The question surprised them, as I was listening the entire time, and I did know even if they didn’t say it. 

So don’t go to medical school.

How do I explain to them that I knew exactly what I was talking about. 

That in my family it was either accounting or finance.

How did I explain to my parents that all I really wanted was to pursue kenjutsu, the way of the sword.

Studies took us in different directions and we didn’t see each other for some time, this turning out to be our last exchange, brief by necessary. 

When I arrived to class completely soaked by water, dripping all over the floor, my books and paper ruined the professor remarked I should have brought an umbrella with me.

I just smiled and took my seat.

I didn’t correct him that I did bring one with me. I just didn't have it anymore. 

She did

Every class his that guy.

The one who you keep meeting at reunion year after year, and year after year they are unchanged.

Still partying.

Still hanging out.

Still frozen in that year.

They still knew everybody, and would tell you about everybody, where they are now.

When her name was mentioned I tried to hide my interest.

Married, a career, a house in the best part of town.

Outwardly I was genuinely very happy, I was.

Secretly inside I was relieved.