eudaimonia

The Smile, Part One - loosely inspired by every love story I've witnessed.

I wanted a certain kind of love. I wanted love that wouldn't let me feel so broken and lonely inside. I wanted love that would fill me to the brim with golden, bubbling joy. I wanted love that would make me feel like someone was forever mine-- mine to keep. I wanted to love somebody who would say "hello" to me in the mornings and "good night" when the sun set. I wanted someone who would ask if I was awake at 3 am, someone I could think about for hours on end and never get bored.

For years, I felt I wasn't good enough to be loved. I would settle for the one-way, two-week-long, yes-with-a-painful-ending. I'd hold myself back from the people I really did want to smile and laugh with. Getting close will only hurt them. Even now, I have to pinch myself to be certain that he's not a dream, that his words aren't just lies wrapped prettily in ribbons. I still do a double take every morning when I wake up next to him and run my fingers through that blonde hair curled into ringlets about his face. I bottle up all the happiness he gives me and keep it to share-- in case he leaves someday.

Let's backtrack. Just over two years ago, the summer of 2017, was when his green eyes crossed my path for the first time. I was visiting the college I was to attend right before the school year started, hoping to familiarize myself with its layout and teachers. As I was looking for the dorms, I discovered a large square in the middle of the campus. I decided to take a breather and sat down on a nearby bench. The world was so serene that day. The wind rustled quietly through a grove of oak trees across the square. The sky was so still; only a few puffy white clouds splashed across the tranquil blue. I could spend hours describing how peaceful that moment felt. It was one of those short times when I could really, truthfully tell myself that everything might be okay.

My break was quickly interrupted, though, when a group of students rounded the corner. They were laughing loudly and sipping drinks from a nearby restaurant. I ducked my head as they passed by, suddenly all too aware of how oily my hair was and the dark coffee stain on my sleeve. I watched them longingly. I had no friends who made it to this college-- no one to talk to. I had to start all over again.

I must've stared too hard that day. A guy with wheat-colored hair and sparkling viridescent eyes looked back at me. He looked so carefree with one arm slung across his friend's shoulders, his perfect lips curved into a smile. My heart ached so badly as I pulled myself away from his gaze. I immediately felt the color rise up to my cheeks as I quickly turned around; I could only hope that he didn't notice. For days, his laugh echoing in the courtyard and his grin full of dimples were the only things on my mind.

About a week later, the school year finally started. The leaves morphed from vivid greens to hues of yellows and reds. The air took on a noticeable biting chill I wasn't accustomed to. I had discovered a cozy little shop near the university that had great coffee and fun little delicacies like tiny cakes shaped into castles. My first day of school, I got up early and walked there. The bell hanging above the coffee shop door dinged cheerfully as I walked inside. There weren't many people there; just a couple students were typing on their laptops or reading books.

I walked to the counter and scanned the menu. My fingers tapped restlessly on my bag. I was unusually nervous for my first day. It won't be too hard to meet people, I told myself. Talk to them like you would with your old friends from high school. People are nice, I reassured myself.

A man in his mid-forties, with a stripe of grey across his carefully gelled hair, stepped up to take my order. "I'm Mark. What can I get you today?"

I blinked, realizing that I hadn't read the menu at all. "S-sorry," I stuttered.

"It's all right." He laughed, flashing a beaming smile. "Nervous for your first day?"

"Maybe a little." I forced an awkward chuckle. "Um... can I get a small black coffee please?"

"Would you like anything else with that?" Mark tapped a few buttons on a tiny screen sitting on the counter in front of him.

I shook my head and gave him a ten-dollar bill. He handed my change back to me. "That'll be just a couple minutes. Feel free to take a seat."

Hurriedly nodding my thanks (and mentally berating myself for being so awkward), I stuffed the change into my wallet. After a second thought, I dropped a dollar into the tip jar. My stomach growled loudly and I looked around to see if anyone had heard. No one looked up though-- most of the students were wearing headphones anyway. I pulled out a chair from one of the tables for two and sat down. I checked my watch-- 6:30 am, it read. I still had about half an hour until I had to leave to my first class.

My hands were trembling from the morning chill. I rubbed them together under the table, hoping to get a little feeling into my fingers. The world outside was dark. As I watched, the first few notes of orange stained the grey horizon. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the coffee shop window. Strange, how the morning sun looks the same from anywhere in the world.

"I believe this is for you," Mark said. He was holding a steaming paper cup and a little brown bag in his hand. I had been so absorbed in my own thoughts that I hadn't heard him coming. He looked out the window. "Sun's coming up."

"Yeah." I smiled. "Still cold though."

"It's pretty cold around here." He smiled. "You get used to it." He set the cup and bag down on the table and began to walk away.

I opened my mouth to say that I had only ordered coffee, but he merely said, "It's a bagel. We find that a lot of the students here like the ones with strawberry cream. On the house, okay? Order one next time if you like it. Try another one if you don't." He shrugged and left.

"Thanks," I said. My voice came out strangely high and choked, but he was already gone. "Thanks," I whispered to myself. "Thanks."