Not My Knight

Not my Knight

By Paromita De

Growing up as a little girl, I had the unfortunate luck of being bullied by several classmates because I wore glasses from the age of five years old. I hated my childhood, and I hated going to school. It was a common incident to hear someone at school screaming “four eyes!” during recess and on multiple occasions, I was always a target of some soccer ball that always hit me in the face and knocked my glasses off. I never watched too much television, so we all figured it was a genetic thing. To make matters worse, I had a huge gap in between my two front teeth. My mother would lovingly address me as "her bunny". I hated it. I had one friend, Margaret, and we were both in the same predicament. We would bond together over our common misery, and lean on each other to get through the day.

My favorite place was the library where I could drown into somebody else's story and hide away from the world. I dreamed of the day that I would leave the city that I grew up in.

As I grew older, those glasses were complimented by braces that I had to wear in High School, and on top of that my mom always bought me clothes that were off the sales rack from the local department store. One such day a bunch of the cheerleaders were mocking me right in front of my face. They were wearing short skirts, and bright lipstick and they looked at me with pure disgust.

“Leave her alone”, said Richie. The girls all stopped, and looked over at him, and almost simultaneously all started fluttering their eyelashes and giggling. Like the rest of the girls at school, I had a tiny crush on Richie as well. He was tall, handsome, and lean. He always exuded a certain confidence, and he was really good at sports. He was one of the popular guys at school. I felt special because I knew him because of my mom, and we sometimes saw each other outside of school.

Richie was not only my neighbor, but his mom and my mom were best friends. They bonded over the fact that they were stay at home moms with husbands that worked late at night and were rarely home. They became each other’s rock over the years.

Richie would occasionally come by with his mom, and we would all eat dinner together. His hair always had a ton of gel in it, and it was spiked up. Occasionally he would bring his girlfriend over to hang with us. She went to a different local school, and she was on the track team. We hardly spoke to each other. I usually was focused on reading or completing my homework. It was awkward for me, and they were too busy making out with each other.

After High school, I was determined to move out of state, and far away from my hometown. I wanted to start somewhere new, where nobody knew about my horrible past. My grades were good, and I got a scholarship to Columbia University. I was ecstatic. I would be majoring in Communications, and I did not know anybody there. My mother was devastated, but saw it as a good opportunity for me.

I grew independent in New York. I started to wear nice clothes, contacts, and make up. I made every attempt to become the opposite of what I looked and acted like in my younger years. When I was out there, I dated a few of the guys in college, but none of them inspired me to fall in love, or pursue anything further, but I liked the attention that I received from them

After a year, I went back to my hometown to celebrate Christmas. Things were just the way that I remembered them. My room was exactly the same as I had left it. My family and I went out to dinner at a family friend’s house, and I dreaded going there as all of the ghosts of my past would be there. Of course, Richie was there. When I walked in, his gaze lingered over me for longer than it ever has. I had heard that he had broken up with his girlfriend who decided to go to college out of state, while he decided to enroll in a local college in our hometown.

Richie looked at me with interest. Later that night, we found ourselves kissing in the back of the home office at the house party we had gone to. His lips were soft, and he stroked my hair gently. I had thought I would feel excited or that somehow my stomach would be filled with butterflies, but instead, I felt empty. He started to try to feel me up through my sweater dress, but I pushed away. The truth was I knew that Richie was just into my new looks; just like he was with the rest of the girls that he dated. I was just another one of his temporary obsessions, and he would soon move on to the next. I called Margaret later that night, and told her what had happened.

"Didn't you always want this?!" Margaret cried with excitement. She was in Seattle living her best life.

"I thought so" I said slowly, "but I felt nothing..."

 After a few days, I went back to New York, and I could feel the crisp, cool air as it hit my face. I smiled with glee. This is where I felt that I belonged.

After a few months, I would meet the love of my life; a guy I met at a coffee shop in New York who would love me for who I am.

 I learned later that Richie was engaged to a woman who soon had left him for another man. He had left our hometown shortly after and escaped to London where he would live as a bachelor for the rest of his life. I felt bad for Richie. Although he seemed to have everything that anyone could have wanted, his life was sad, lonely and lacking love.