Letters to Gibran

Chapter 4

"This is where you go to vent. Really?" I asked, gesturing to the Arena sized Roundhouse.

"This is everyone's go to place for a drink between classes". Emma said, walking straight through the doors without even waiting for me.

I found her at one of the seats as she held up one finger to the bartender. I strolled towards her, stopping just short from the seat next to her. To my left, I noticed a lonely man tucked into his stool by the corner of the bar. When he lifted his empty cup to the bartender, I recognised his face.

"Hey, I will be back. I have... something to take care of." I said.

"Just remember to get me before our next class". She said, waving me off.

I ambled to the corner of the bar and lifted myself onto one of the high stools next to the man that reeked of beer.

"It's not even happy hour yet and you're already gone".

He stiffened at first but once he looked up to see who had paid him some attention, his confusion was replaced by surprise.

"This would be the last place I'd ever think someone like you would come too". He said as his shock melted away into a tired smile.

"What? Does the way I look give you that impression?" I said, looking down at my peach cardigan and black skirt. For the first time, I had felt embarrassed about the clothes that I was wearing especially when I compared it to the girls in the bar who had jeans and converse.

Nathan continued drinking, ignoring my question and me altogether. After a full minute, I came to the conclusion that he wasn't answering. I opened my mouth to ask if he was okay, when he placed his empty cup onto the bar.

"No, the way you talk tells me that this isn't your first place to go to".

"Well you're right. It isn't. I'm suppose to be keeping my friend company". I said, pointing to Emma. My hand dropped when I noticed that she had found a replacement to keep her company.

The quietness between the two of us was becoming a little unbearable. He was too quiet for even himself. If it wasn't for the outside conversations and laughter within the bar, the silence between us would have made me feel out of place.

My attention circled in on his state. At this point he had surpassed the drunk stage and was sitting just outside the "off the face" mark.

"You don't look too well".

"Amira-Rose, you gotta stop with those low blows. They can really hurt a man". He said, feigning a hurt expression.

"I'm sure your ego can handle it".

He laughed a lot harder than I expected. "Did I ever tell you how funny you are?"

I pointed to my chest in a surprise pretence. "You think I'm funny?"

"I don't think it. I know it". He turned to me when he said that which was when I noticed his face since talking to him in the Unibar.

The dark circles that were illustrated under his eyelids made him look a lot older than before. His stubble was much more present than the day I had seen him in the library and outside the lecture hall. His blue eyes resembled the oceans on a stormy night compared to his usual colour that reminded me of the waters of Kiama. I didn't know his age but, his rugged up appearance took his age estimate to the late 20's even early 30's.