The girl sat on the end, next to the desk with the broken chair, calmed by the assurance that no one could sit next to her now. Plagued by her ineptitude of social interaction, she placed her bag and sweater at the foot of the adjacent broken chair to block the possibility of someone attempting to sit in it. This was how she always planned her seating arrangements. If the desk was in the rear of the room, behind the broad-shouldered jock, keeping her hidden from the over-zealous professor, this was all the more better.
The lecture hall, Room 209C, was large, and sloping, easily accommodating at least 100 students comfortably. As is the trend with most state universities though, the room usually housed how many students paid for the class, as opposed to how many fit in it. It was a bland room, with little scholarly decoration, 10-by-10 rows of green, cushioned chairs, and tan colored, auditorium-style folding desks filled the room that was complete with a large projector screen and podium for the professor. Room 209C began to fill up with students. The girl watched them pass by, and concocted stories about their lives in her head. 'Vicarious living'� she called it. It wasn't the life she planned for herself, but social interaction had turned out to be much better in theory then in practice.
It was very cold in room 209C that day, the room that Dr. Kelly taught 'Cultural Literacy in Educational Studies'� with such conviction he assumed he could entice even the most invisible of wallflowers. He stared out over the class, his large bushy eyebrows forming a 'V'� at the base of his forehead as he frowned at the dwindling class size. Just two weeks earlier, there had been at least 40 students sitting on the floor in the isles, and now it seemed everyone had a seat. 'Ten more minutes,'� he thought. 'They'll show.'� His eyes fell upon the girl, and she looked down. Her eyes catching her sweater on the floor, she pulled it on to escape the cold of the room, as well as of the professor's stare. She longed for physical, as well as mental, warmth.
The water in the girl's shower at home was always scalding hot. She could shower for hours and it would never run cold. She thought about a nice, hour-long shower as she shuddered in room 209C and mentally hated herself for not bringing a warmer sweater. It wasn't as if this was the first time room 209C seemed to lack a temperature suitable for someone not outfitted with Polar Bear attributes.
More students came in, and she shifted her focus back to people-watching. A tall girl with short brown hair dressed all in black came in, and sat down a few rows ahead of her. She had a small tattoo of a black star on the back of her neck. It reminded the girl of her best friend Patty in high school. She had a black star tattooed above her navel. The same hatred she now felt for Patty the two-faced, backstabbing liar now transferred over to the innocent short-haired student, and the girl had to look away. 'Vicarious living isn't supposed to conjure up the past,'� she thought to herself.
Class started once the room reached it full capacity, and then some, satisfying Dr. Kelly enough to begin his lecture. Students continued to filter in as Dr. Kelly posted slides on the screen, and talked about the cultural differences between Asian and American students in education as if it was the thesis of every student in the room.
'I once had a student when I taught elementary school in my early 20's. I know, I know, I don't look a day over 25!'� He chuckled as he ruffled the gray hairs on his goatee. The class was unmoved. He cleared his throat, and continued, 'So, anyway, I had an Asian student that refused to ever look me in the eye. It infuriated me, because I'm very big on teacher-student interaction. The young boy was a fantastic student, but he just refused to look at me. One day I was in a terrible mood, and I snapped at him to pay attention and look me in the eye.'� Dr. Kelly made a two fingered gesture toward his eyes. 'He refused, so I sent him to the office. Later during a parent teacher conference, I learned that Asian children are taught that it is disrespectful to look your elders in the eye. I felt ridiculous. The point of the story is, we have to remember the cultural norms of other countries are different from our own, and not automatically jump to conclusions about behavior we don't understand.'�
The girl's teeth were chattering, and she barely caught a word he said. Her mind was elsewhere.
Sliding back into her comfortable slouch behind Number 37, the girl continued to drown out the professor, and daydream about the warm shower that awaited her come 12:15pm. It seemed so far away, but with every tick of the clock, she could see the steam engulfing her pale skin, the streams of water hitting her face, the warm air curing her goose bumps.
It was while she was daydreaming about her shower that a boisterous woman burst into the room almost 20 minutes late. Dr. Kelly did not look amused, but the woman charmed him into forgiving her lateness.
'Sorry, Dr. K. You know those asshole parking attendants. You forget your parking pass 4 days in a row, and they act like you're some sort of criminal.'�
The class laughed, and even Dr. Kelly let a grin escape, but continued teaching. The woman advanced down the aisle searching for a seat.
The room was full to a point that several of the pretty girls had gathered on the floor in the front. Sure, there was the broken seat next to the girl that one of them probably could have manufactured into a usable seat, but God forbid they be separated from the pack.
The girl shivered at the thought that this woman may see the broken chair next to her, and figure out a way to sit in it, but the woman passed the seat by, and continued on towards the front of the room, scanning each row for en empty place to settle into.
Two blondes sitting in front of the girl were whispering. Paranoia flared, and she wondered if they were talking about her. One of the girls glanced back, and caught her eye. That confirmed it. She imagined herself leaning forward and telling those bitches that their fake breasts and bleached teeth didn't fool anyone, and one day they'd be as ugly as their mothers. Instead, she wrapped herself tighter in her sweater, and placed herself back in a time where she still believed in the warmth of friendship.
She imagined herself back in Mr. McCallister's 5th period study hall, passing notes with Patty about Nick, the artsy boy who usually sat at the table next to them at lunch.
'He's so cute!'� Patty would scribble to her.
'I know! I think I love him.'� She would write back.
'I'll help you get him,'� Patty would write. 'I know he likes you.'�
She'd smile at the note, and think about what a great friend Patty was. Now she only thought about how it was all a lie, and how Patty and Nick were engaged now.
But these thoughts didn't last long, for she was startled by the large rear end that was trying desperately to squeeze itself past the front of her face. She hadn't quite figured out what was going on, until she saw the boisterous woman plop down into the broken chair next to her and fall promptly to the floor. The entire lecture hall heard the crash, and turned to look. Many snickered under their breath and some full on laughed.
'Sorry Dr. K!'� She shouted. 'It just isn't my day. At least this bag was here to break my fall.'� She lifted one butt cheek, and pulled the girls squashed, black messenger bag out from underneath her rear.
The girl could only turn bright red, half horrified for the large woman sprawled on the floor next to her, and half horrified by the proximity of the class's main attraction to herself. If their eyes slid over just a few inches, all eyes would be on her. She felt the vomit rise in the back of her throat, but somehow managed to choke it down. The fallen woman simply smiled.
She identified herself as Allison Landers, and informed the class that she was available for birthday parties, and Bar Mitzvahs. The class seemed to smile at her corny, over-used joke, and dismiss her clumsy nature because she was able to poke fun at herself.
Allison then picked herself up, tried her best to reassemble the chair, and somehow, probably uncomfortably so, managed to squeeze her obese bottom into the thing, partially hovering in it, as to not shatter her make-shift creation.
The girl tried to look at Allison as little as possible, but it was hard. Allison had acne-ridden skin, large masses of fat cascading over her pants that were obviously at least two sizes too small, and a mass of curly brown hair that looked as if Allison had never bothered to take a brush to it. But still Allison smiled, and the orthodontically-challenged smile on Allison's face was so striking that the girl could barely look away. There was just something about Allison that was not physically visible to the majority of the world, but the girl knew it was there, staring her in the face, drawing her in, making her incapable of deciphering the inner workings of Allison Landers, but also unable to stop thinking about them.
This whole scene was incomprehensible to her, and she couldn't help but spend the rest of the period trying to understand how Allison could just take such an embarrassing incident in stride. Especially a girl that lacked the physically stunning quality that a person usually required to get away with such gaucheness, such physical ineptitude, such clumsiness, such embarrassing tendencies. This stout, physically repulsive woman that sat next to her in the broken chair had become the girl's personal hero.
For the first time in years, the girl felt herself wanting to have a conversation with someone, with this Allison. She wanted Allison to want to talk to her. She wanted them to be friends. She felt this time might actually be different.
Dr. Kelly dragged on for almost another hour.
'Cultural boundaries often make social interaction difficult. What we see as the norm, is often confusing to those from other countries, and sometimes even other states within the U.S. What's new and fresh here in Florida may be totally whack up in New York,'� He laughed, feeling like he was really connecting with his students.
The girl wondered where Allison was from, and whether or not they would be able to communicate. She wondered if she better give up on Allison now before she said something Allison would think was stupid. She could feel her face red with embarrassment, although she had no idea what it stemmed from. Maybe she was still imagining all the kids shifting their glance from Allison to her, even though they had stopped looking even at Allison ages ago. She still felt their eyes upon her, their judgmental stares'� she knew she was mentally unstable for having these thoughts, but they would not go away. She feared they never would, that she would never live a normal life, that she would never make a real friend again, meet a boy, have a first kiss. She was 22. She was insignificant even to herself. She had all these thoughts inside of her head that she felt to be so profound, and she thought if only people knew about the things she thought about, they'd like her, they'd see she was a worthwhile person, a complicated human being with thoughts and feelings very much unlike any one else's, and a philosopher in her own time. A new world genius.
At this thought, she delved into her bag for her journal. Her sanctuary, her treasure box of personal thoughts. She fantasized all the time about someone finding her journal 'by accident'� and reading what was inside, only to fall in love with her ideas, and inner-most thoughts, and dedicate their life to finding the writer of the journal. She shuffled around in her bag, and came up empty. Panic unexpectedly set in, realizing that maybe she wasn't really that happy about the idea of someone reading her personal thoughts. A wave of relief washed over her though as a mental image of the journal sitting on her ottoman in her room flashed in her head.
The lecture reached its end, and she heard the closing of notebooks, zipping of bookbags, clanking of keys, and snapping of pen tops all around her. She pulled her walkman from her bag, and prepared to put on her headphones and drown out the world again. It wasn't as if anyone wanted to whisper sweet nothings into her ears anyway. Except maybe for Bob Dylan.
But before the headphones could reach her ear lobes, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Assuming she must be blocking someone's way, or sitting on someone's notebook, she turned, ready to apologize and readjust herself. Staring directly into her eyes were the eyes of Allison Landers. She could see now that Allison had very beautiful green eyes, that opened very widely, very assertively, very knowingly, very genuinely. Allison had the type of eyes that tell a story. Surrounded by dark circles, it was obvious that she probably stayed up late at night, and woke up way too early. Whether Allison was out dancing til dawn, or at home studying to the wee hours of the morning, could not be told for sure just by her eyes, but the girl knew that Allison had a life. Allison's eyes spoke of a fulfilling existence.
Upon turning towards the hefty woman, the girl immediately realized that she was making eye contact with a complete stranger, and looked down. Allison proceeded to speak, hardly noticing the uncomfortable expression, and increasingly reddening skin tone of the girl she was speaking too. It was very common interaction for her, and she obviously thought nothing of it.
'So, do you get this stuff? I mean, it's not hard, but I haven't been here for like, 4 classes or something, so I'm behind, and I could use some help. Have you been coming to class?'�
The girl continued to look down, hardly being able to concentrate on what Allison was saying to, or asking her. Was it a question, a statement, a comment, an insult? She couldn't even look up long enough to figure out what type of conversation this was. It didn't really matter though. Allison had a way of talking enough to figure things out through her own conversation with herself, and this instance was not an exception.
'I mean, if I could just get my fat ass out of bed in the morning you know? Hahaha. But it's an 11am class, and that's sooo early. I'm just lazy, but I want to do well, ya know? I just need to find a study partner, I work so much better in groups.'�
Just look up, the girl told herself. It's a small step, but it's one you need to make. You don't have to reply, just acknowledge that someone is speaking to you. Please. Please do this. You can't always live in this internal environment you've created for yourself. Please be normal. Please be capable of interaction with another human being. PleasePleasePleasePleasePlease. She argued with herself for much longer then she wanted to, but finally she stopped talking in her head, and felt a moment of clarity. A moment of mental silence.
And she looked up.
By this time, Allison had finished her conversation with herself, and was at the point in the interaction in which she felt the need to thank the girl that had done absolutely nothing but possibly listen to her inane banter.
'We should go get coffee sometime, and study this stuff, ya know? It'd be good for both of us.'� Reaching over a boundary that the girl hadn't had anyone cross in years, Allison grabbed her pen, and scribbled her phone number on the girl's notebook. Allison looked her in the eyes once again, and this time the girl was able to not look away for the first 3 seconds. Allison smiled. A genuine smile that expressed a real interest in the girl, a real interest in an acquaintanceship, possibly a real interest in a friendship. It was a toothy, unattractive smile, but it was the most beautiful thing the girl had ever seen. It was a real chance at breaking the chain of social ineptitudes that had sheltered her from normalcy. It was a turning point, and it was only a smile.
Allison shoved her own notebook into her red, corduroy messenger bag with the words 'Meat is Murder'� sprawled across the front in white-out. Pens followed, and then her hands dug deep down into the bag, fishing around for a moment before retrieving a set of keys attached to a rabbit's foot. The girl considered the irony. Allison rose from the broken chair, and started to file out of the lecture hall along with the other stragglers. Then, suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, and turned around, walking back over to the girl.
'Hey, I didn't get your name?'�
The girl blinked at her, and cleared her throat, realizing she hadn't used her voice in a long time.
'Nora. My name is Nora.'�
'Nora. Great to meet you. Give me a call!'� Allison smiled again, turned, and walked out.
Nora rose from her own seat, and it flapped backwards into a resting position. The tattered chair in which Allison had sat clunked to the floor as a result of the movement of Nora's own chair. She looked down at the pile, and stepped over it, continuing on towards the door, content in the fact that the chair was finally the only thing truly broken in the room.
© 2006 Apryl K V

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