The Rejects of Richmond University | editing

15. The One With Pain

❝You see you wouldn't ask why the rose that grew from the concrete had damaged petals. On the contrary, we would all celebrate its tenacity. We would all love it's will to reach the sun. Well, we are the rose - this is the concrete - and these are my damaged petals.❞

—Tupac Shakur

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💔 BRENDA 💔

I woke up to good news. One of my friends spotted my ex-boyfriend, Harris, back in town. She said he looked different than how she last remembered him. I wasn't sure what she meant by that. I didn't ask her to clarify. Truth to be told, I stopped paying attention to what she was saying after that point. My worries were stuck on Harris and his arrival back to Texas.

I stayed in my room, locked away with my imagination playing out fictional encounters of us in town. Would I see him at the theater? Or would I bump into him at the local library? Did he move back in with his parents? Perhaps he was rooming with his older brother in Downtown Dallas? I remained like that for most of the morning, daydreaming about the possibilities of the day and not actually living in it.

I didn't have much bravery to make those fantasy into a reality. We left things on a bad note. Opening that can of worms would only lead us down two paths. One with hope and the other with indefinite disparity. I couldn't handle getting my heartbroken this early in the day. I calmed myself down enough to not call his cellphone. 

💔💔💔

If someone made a line up of our roommates, I wouldn't know who to pick. I didn't even know how they looked. I was well aware that a girl names Salma Hasan moved in last night, lugging in her things at the early hour of five in the morning. She already had her keys, so I didn't have to get up to answer the door for her. I wouldn't have known about her arrival at all if it weren't for my best friend. Scott kept me posted through texts. For a lot of the week, I spent much of my time studying for my Anatomy 3 class. I was very busy and out of the loop on a lot of things. Scott made sure to tell me vital details about our incoming roommates. And thankfully, their spreadsheets of personal information told me details about them as individuals.

I was worried about the safety of the third girl moving in, especially after Scott told me she was staying over at Jaxon's place until her check came in.

"You let Jaxon leave with that girl?" I snapped at Scott, swatting his hand off my arm when he reached over to calm me down. I finally made my way downstairs after being stuck in my head all morning. "She doesn't know what she's getting herself into. You should've warned the girl of how much of a horn dog he can be."

"She's the one who called him," he informed. "After she left back to her sorority, things got messy and she had to stay with him. She's over in Waco now—from what Jaxon tells me."

"What is she doing there?"

"He says she's got an old childhood friend there. Some kind of altercation must've happened, causing her to want to be with her pal in Waco than spend another night with Jaxon."

"Oh, great." I sigh into my hands, leaning forward in my seat. I draw out a low breath, resting my palms on the dinner table and easing back into the wooden chair. "I'm going to ask her what happened. She's coming today, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she sent a text this morning saying she'd be here with her stuff." Scott nodded along. "I don't think it's a good idea to snoop into their business—"

"I'm not snooping," I proclaimed, pushing myself away from the table. The legs of the chair screech at how fast I backed up, rocking for a second till I planted all four legs on the dark hardwood floors. "I'm concerned. If he did something out of hand, then he can't be around here anymore. I don't want her to feel uncomfortable if she sees him around here. I want all of the roommates to feel like they're at home here. Like we can be a family."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Don't get your hopes up. We're still a bunch of loud college students. If you're looking for a sentimental family moment with this bunch, I think you'll be disappointed."

"I hope you're wrong," I said feebly, getting out of my chair. "I can't wait to see everyone at dinner tonight. It'll be great. I have everything planned. I'm picking up red wine and the smoked ham—"

"Ziyan can't eat pork or drink alcohol. He's Muslim. Out of respect, I think we should leave any and all pork and alcohol products in the spare fridge in the basement. That's what my family did whenever my uncle, who found his way back to Islam, would do whenever he came over."

"Found his way...back?"

"You don't say converted. That's not the proper way of saying it to them," he revealed to me, telling me something I didn't know till now. "Anyway, that marks our pork from your big festive dinner plan."

"Oh. Well, I'll go for a turkey then."

"Salma is a vegetarian." Scott informed. "However, she said during her interview that she doesn't care if you cook meat. If you ask me, I think you should get pizza. Everyone loves pizza."

I snapped my fingers. "Pizza it is. I'll grab some drinks from the grocery. We're out of anything to drink besides milk."

I looped my purse strap over my head and on to my shoulder, snagging the keys off the table. Before leaving, I asked Scott if there was something he wanted from the store for him. I took note of his request for M&Ms and went on my way.

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Heartbreaks are said to get better with time. Time was what I gave this pain in my chest, time and two glasses of wine a week. And still, its presence seemed more noticeable than before—like it inflated in size, taking over the space of my other organs and demanding to be tended to. It was a conceited broken heart, I'd say that much about it. Nothing else was important than seeking serenity and peace.

Peace wasn't what I found in the grocery store, standing in aisle nine and staring at a row of breakfast cereals.

That was where I found Harris.

Most of the day, I thought about how long it would take for me to bump into him. A few days. A week. It turned out all I had to do was wait a few hours, and like magic, he'd appear.

"Hi," I said in an airy voice.

Harris' head bobbed up, at last seeing me at the end of the aisle. "Brenda."

"I...I knew you were back, but I didn't know if you were back in Plano, or—"

"Yeah, I'm back living in Plano." He cut in. His surprise shifted to emotionless at a drop of a hat, almost as though he remembered why we broke up in that instant. "How ya'been?"

"Good," I lied. "I've been doing great."

I was close to asking him how he was, but stopped myself, knowing what was really on my mind. I'd been anticipating this reunion for weeks, thinking of what I'd say and how I'd say it.

"We need to talk." I took a step forward, not touching him. It was an impulse of mine to reach out and hold on to him as if he was mine again. I refrained from that temptation. "There's a lot you don't know. A lot I didn't get the chance to say. That night, when you walked in on me and Scott, it wasn't what it looked like--"

"Brenda," he sighed, raising his left hand to his ear. Fluorescent light caught the edge of the gold wedding band on his finger. "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm getting married."

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