The Dead Poets

37

The semester was nearly over and the Christmas break neared. Exams were upon us, which meant less Dead Poets meetings. Normally, that would sadden me. However, considering the awkward place Charlie and I are currently in, it's probably for the best.

Neither one of us had really spoken, and dinner time was awkward to say the least. It usually consisted of us at either ends of the table, or not showing up to the dining hall at all.

I walk across the courtyard and towards the picnic tables just before the forest. Slipping my mittens onto my hands, I dust off the snow that covered the wooden bench.

It's been just over a week since the last Dead Poets meeting. Charlie and I awkwardly avoid eye contact, quickly and overtly bowing our heads while passing one another in the halls.

As much as I hoped things would go back to the way they had been, it seemed like wishful thinking. Nevertheless, the courtyard seemed to be the place I was able to do some of my best thinking.

I pull the thermos from my bag, slowly sipping its hot contents, and gazing at the picturesque view before me. The tall evergreens that made up the forest, donned white, fluffy snow atop their long branches.

Wrapping my scarf around my face, I decided it was about time I spoke to Charlie. Although, I wasn't entirely sure how to go about the conversation...

I danced with Jack at a party I didn't even want to go to, and you flirted with girls right in front of me, so let's just... call it even?

It sounded foolish even in my head. I toss the thermos back into my bag, deciding to spend my Saturday afternoon at the diner.

The bells chime once I open the glass door, and step into the warmth of the small restaurant.

As usual, I'm greeted with the kind faces of the waitresses clad in their baby blue and pink uniforms.

Just as I make my way towards the cozy booth in the back I've deemed my own, a familiar face catches the corner of my eye.

"Jack?" I question, spinning on my heel to face his rosy, frost-bitten cheeks.

"Oh, hi!" He greets warmly, reaching his arm out and gesturing towards the free bench in front of his table.

"Fancy seeing you here," I say, before mentally chastising myself.

Fancy seeing you here, really?

Luckily he flashes his perfectly straight smile—grinning at my remark.

"Well, truthfully," he begins, but pauses briefly as the waitress quickly takes down my order onto her small notepad.

"Truthfully," he continues, rubbing his hands together, for warmth or due to nervousness, I wasn't entirely sure.

"I hoped you'd be here," he finishes, his already rosy cheeks darkening.

"Well, you can almost always count on it," I respond playfully, hoping to lighten the mood. But to no avail, as he continues to fiddle with his hands.

"I just thought we left things sort of..." he trails off slightly, presumably to find the right words.

"Weird," is what he seems to settle on. Thankfully the waitress places my steaming cup of peppermint hot chocolate onto the table in front us, giving me a few extra seconds to think of some excuse.

"I'm sorry about that. Charlie he just-" I pause, unsure of what I even intended to say.

"He gets a little jealous sometimes," I conclude, setting the festive mug back onto the table. Although even as I said it, it felt like a lousy excuse. If he trusted me, which he certainly should, then why act that way?

"Are you two..." Jack trails off again, his words slow.

"Serious?"

"Jack," I warn lowly.

I knew where this conversation was heading, and it felt almost... wrong.

Although part of me felt like I didn't really owe Charlie anything right now, the other part of me—probably the more rational one—knows he is still my boyfriend.

"We shouldn't—we can't— talk about this," I say defensively, crossing my arms over my chest.

Jack runs his hands tiredly over his face, resting his elbows on the small table between us, and letting his head fall into his open palms.

"Look," Jack sighs, pulling his head from his hands. His golden brown eyes look stressed and sleepless.

"I just think when you meet someone special, you just, know. And I don't know, I can't really explain, hell I don't even fully understand it, but with you I feel like maybe I met that somebody. Maybe it's selfish, but I'd hate myself if I didn't at least try to do something about it."

In that moment I was truly speechless. I was torn, and I hated this feeling. On paper, Jack seemed good for me, in fact almost perfect. But Charlie and I had history, which is something that Jack could never erase.

Instead of thinking of all the good memories Charlie and I have, my mind raced with images of Lucy kissing him, the accident, the girls at the cave...

"I-" I opened my mouth to speak, but no words seemed to come out.

"I'm sorry," is all I managed to say, grabbing my coat and dashing out of the diner.

I wrap my scarf tightly around my neck, shielding my face from the frigid, winter air. Yet even the low temperatures and freezing winds, weren't enough to distract my thoughts from swirling a mile a minute in my mind.

However one thought—one very dark thought—loomed above all others.

Was Charlie my somebody?

If Jack's right, and we all have someone out there for us, was Charlie mine? And was I his?

The thought stayed with me throughout my walk back to Welton, leading me all the way towards Charlie's door...