Felicia

Chapter 12

If you could pause reality and fast forward all the crappy parts of it, life would be awesome. But you can’t. That’s why reality sucks. Someday, I’m going to build a tiny stone cottage in the middle of nowhere, fill it with books and laze around all afternoons, tucked in a comfy sofa, sipping coffee and visiting imaginary worlds and having serious conversations with imaginary people. There won’t be any gadgets, no freaking clocks, and no freaking people. This is my ultimate dream.

But I can’t do it right now since it’s not like throwing up on life and going back to live in a cave. I’ll live secluded from society but I’ll still be living a decent life. With internet, food, enough books, and coffee. And since no one else would do it for me, including building that stone cottage in the middle of nowhere, I’ll have to work hard right now so I can afford to spend time doing nothing later on. So I’ve got no option but to take things as they are right now.

I’m hurt and miserable to the core right now but I don’t show any sign of it, in case if Marlo secretly enjoys my misery.  We haven’t talked for three days. We walk around hallways completely ignoring each other’s existence. I’m kinda getting used to it. If he can be so uptight and haughty, I can be worse. I’m so good at it.

How the heck did things go wrong? I mentally replay all the drama and obviously, there’s no fault on my part. The world is playing against me. What the heck is wrong with everyone? Well, it’s not everyone, is it? I still got good people on my side. Count your blessings dammit!

I’m on the verge of attracting happy thoughts to my sloppy head when I see Marlo and his nerds crash their butts on our usual spot at the café. The spot me, Leena, and the dork shared for two years. How could he? He’s planning all this. I should walk past unaffected.

I push myself past the shit-heads and order some cinnamon tea. Not in the mood for an espresso. Not in the mood for an emotional boost. I just need to be sulky for a while. Celebrate all my misfortunes. After a full inspection both in and out of the café, I notice the only spot available is the one next to the trash can. Wonderful.

I seat myself 180 degrees clockwise from the disgusting view of Marlo. It’s either him or the trash can. I go for the trash can.

I’m studying the various contents of the trash can, feeling miserable for all the people going through a food crisis in certain parts of the world. How much exactly do we waste in a day? That half-eaten burger could feed a whole family in Ethiopia. Or could it? Or maybe people in Ethiopia aren’t that desperate after all. The media could be fooling us and perhaps our generation is too dumb to question whatever they see on telly. I could write a thesis about it. Or maybe a ted talk?

“Mind if I sit here?”  

A cup of cinnamon tea lands right in front of mine. I sniff at it and look up.

“Altan?”

“Wow, you remember me?”

How could I not? I’m a Psychology major. I study people. He’s wearing a checked red and black shirt over a black denim and his curly hair cover half his forehead. He looks half amused and half shy. I can’t recall the last time I’ve met him but it strangely seems so recent.  

“It’s all packed in here so I thought you won’t mind?” He makes a pause before seating himself in front of me.

“Of course, yes! I mean, no, I won’t mind” I give him a full grin, realising how desperate I am for company.

I must have looked like a scene out of a Jane Austen novel, accepting a long-awaited marriage proposal. That’s humiliating. I stiffen up my face and hope he hasn’t noticed.