Literature, lust and love - Professor Romanoff

THIRTY-ONE

I woke up feeling, well, absolutely nothing at all. The correct term would be numb, but even then, you're still feeling something. You're feeling the absence of feeling, but when I woke up to darkness on a Thursday morning, before my alarm, I'm sure I felt absolutely nothing at all. I had finally stopped hurting, stopped hating myself, stopped caring about it all. I had done it to myself, I had no right to feel sorry about it. There came a point where I realised that no amount of crying could change anything, so why should I use all my energy on something that really made me feel worse.

Using the time before my alarm to my advantage, I slipped into my gym clothes, grabbed a bowl of cereal from my cupboard and milk from my fridge, and gathered up my supplies before sitting back on my bed and looking out my window. The sun was slowly creeping its way up towards the horizon, the first colour of pink showing at the very edge of my vision. The trees, after having lost all their leaves during the cold of winter, were finally starting to show life, with some spuds of green and movement from birds. A blackbird picked up a twig from the ground and flew back into the centre of the tree, presumably adding that wood to its fortress. The branches moved to their own accord, swaying backwards and forwards in the gentle morning breeze that I was not looking forward to facing.

My phone lit up and buzzed on my bedside table with a text from Alex, asking if I was finally returning to basketball. I replied, saying I was, and then decided to wake myself up more by going for a walk before practice. I pulled over my sweatshirt and squeezed into my puffer coat, before grabbing my keys and water bottle. I slipped out of my dorm, creeping down the echoey stairwell and out the door. I walked through the main campus, walking past the fountain and courtyard until a lit-up window caught my eye. As I walked closer, I realised that someone was sitting at the desk of a classroom, deeply immersed in a book of some sort. It took me a few seconds to realise that it was Wanda, in her own classroom, and that she was reading a Penguin Clothbound Classic, the pretty design catching my eye. Now that I had seen her, I felt conflicted about whether to go see her or not. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was only 6:15, meaning I had 45 minutes until practice started, and in all honesty, I was beginning to get cold. I plucked up my courage to walk into the building and to her door, which was made of glass. She must have felt a presence, as she looked up just as I was about to knock. A smile broke out onto her face, showing off her white teeth, and she beckoned me in.

"Desi, what are you doing here this early?" She slid in a bookmark to her page and shut the book firmly. She put the book to one side and turned her chair towards me.

"I have basketball practice, but I needed to get out of my room before."

"Too many thoughts?"

I chuckled sheepishly, "Yeah, one could say that."

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked kindly, coming towards the front of her desk and resting herself on it. She was wearing black slacks and a red jumper, and her hair was hanging loosely curled below her shoulders. She crossed her arms in front of her and looked at me with raised eyebrows when I didn't reply straight away.

"Not really."

"Okay, how about you ask me a question, and then I'll ask you one?"

I nodded. "What book are you reading?"

"Frankenstein. What do you want to do when you're older?"

"I don't know, maybe write. Did you always want to be a teacher?"

"No, it was never on my mind, until my life completely changed. Who's your favourite author?"

"Jane Austen. Who's yours?"

"Dickens. Why Austen?"

"I like how I can always picture myself in her novels. Without a doubt, I'm always there in her tiny little villages. Why Dickens?"

"I can relate to it. And he can make me laugh sometimes. Favourite colour?"

I thought about Natasha's eyes. "Green. Favourite food?"

"Paprikash. Favourite source of media?"

"Music. Yours?"

"Television, sitcoms."

I chuckled, interrupting her chain of thought.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just never expected someone as sophisticated as you seem to be, to enjoy sitcoms. But you are pretty funny, so I guess it makes sense."

"Thank you?" Wanda grinned, scrunching her nose again. We chatted freely until it was time for me to get to practice. She made me laugh and let me think about others things, and I was truly grateful for that.

"Thank you, again, for your time, Wanda."

"Nonsense, it was a pleasure, Desi. Have fun, and I'll see you later, okay?"

I waved at the woman before walking out and I quickly jogged over to the courts where I spotted Alex stretching.

"Des!" Alex jumped up and engulfed me in a hug.

"Hey Al!" I squeaked when he squeezed me extra hard.

"How you been, feeling better?" He asked, peering at me, feeling my forehead with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, I'm all better now."

"I bet Natasha helped you feel better, right?" Alex grinned, and I plastered a smile on my face, continuing the lie, even to him.

"Oh yeah, she was great." I avoided his eye contact and instead my eyes landed on a new blonde I hadn't seen before. "Who's she-"

I was cut off by the coach bringing us over and splitting us into groups for drills to get us moving in the cold. I watched with curiosity as the new girl eagerly placed herself in my group, along with Alex and some of my other friends, and we soon set off running around the court. The blonde galloped along easily and I sped up my pace so that I could run next to her.

"Cool braids," I commented, and I watched as she smirked.

"Thanks, keeps the hair out of my face, very practical, my mama taught me." Her accent shocked me, as did her slightly broken grammar.

"A ty govorish' po russki?" [Do you speak Russian?]

Her eyes widened but her smirk only deepened. "YA russkiy, kak ty mog skazat'?" [I'm Russian, how could you tell?]

"Wild guess."

"How can you speak Russian?"

I bit my lip and cursed myself for always getting myself into a situation where I thought about Natasha. "I took lessons last semester, and my teacher was excellent."

"Cool! Not many people dare to try, so I wonder why you did?"

I simply shrugged my shoulders, certain I was never going to tell this girl why.

"Desi!" Coach called my name and I shot a look over and saw that he was beckoning me over.

"Go, Desdemona." The girl shooed me away.

"Bye..."

"Yelena. My name is Yelena."

"Bye, Yelena, see you later." I said with a small smile.