The sadness in her eyes, the knife in my heart

It was supposed to be just another ordinary school day, like many others. But she had to break the balance. That petite, infuriating, beautiful idiot.

I still remember the day our eyes first met. She was thirteen and a new face in the city. I was fifteen, born and raised in the area. It was the first day of school. She entered the bus, then slowly made her way to the back, where a few empty seats were available. As she walked, her sight seemed fixed on the floor, as if afraid to look, even briefly, other people. Too shy, I thought. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, although I might be mistaken since I was half asleep. Her honey-colored hair was braided and rested beautifully upon her left breast.

I watched her short parade, somehow unable to look away—until a few steps later, when she lifted her chin and looked straight at me with those emerald eyes, deep in my soul. Although it lasted perhaps a second, it seemed like an eternity, and that’s when I finally looked away, like a scared rabbit at the sight of a fox.

She was beautiful. But for some unknown reason, I was suddenly pissed off, although not sure with whom—perhaps with myself—or why.

After that, as days passed, we’d constantly exchange glares on the bus or at school, but no words in the wind. It was sort of a game, I think. Not sure how it started, but it was certainly an unspoken game between us. The definition of who wins or loses, a mystery. The reward, unknown.

Sometimes, when our paths and eyes would meet, she’d gift me with the smallest of smiles—so delicate and shy and charming that I’d think I was daydreaming. I’m not quite sure how I responded to such gestures—perhaps pathetically, with blushing cheeks in return. What I know is that I’d usually end up irritated, feeling like she was teasing me and I’d just lost a match, especially when she did that near her other female classmates.

In the winter, during lunch break, a friend told me he’d ask her out. “She is gorgeous, isn’t she?” he said, looking at Emily and her friends in the courtyard below.

I had my elbows resting on the balcony, and although my guts suddenly felt as cold as my cheeks, I just shrugged it off. “I guess she is... But I don’t know. Something seems off about her,” I said without actually meaning it.

He frowned. “C’mon. Just look at her. She is fucking hot. And smart from what I’ve heard. She seems a bit shy, but I’ve seen her look at me at times... I think I have a chance.”

I’ve seen her look at me... His words hit home. Butterflies were suddenly flying in my stomach. I didn’t understand—or wanted to admit—what was happening. But in the end, there was nothing to be done.

“Go for it then,” I said, glancing sideways at the girl below.

He made a scowl. “What’s with the gloomy face?”

“Only one I’ve got,” I said, still fighting the damned butterflies.

He giggled but then turned serious. “Don’t tell me–”

 “Don’t even start... After Ivy, I don’t want to be romantically involved with another woman, not now.”

He nodded. “It was hard on you, but it’s been what, a year? And besides, it’s not like you didn’t hook up with anyone after her...”

I shrugged. “As you said, hooking up... nothing serious.”

Theo sighed. “Anyways, I think I’ll ask her out today. Our classes end early today. I’ll do it as soon as I get a chance. Any suggestions?”

“Don’t know. It should be your call. I mean, I know nothing about her. What she likes, or how she is like...” I said, glancing at him, who seemed a bit nervous. I sighed.

“Maybe invite her to the movie theatre? I heard there are some nice movies on exhibition.”

His eyes shone, then he showed me his white teeth. “Yeah. The movie theatre is a good call, Noah,” he said, nodding slightly. “If she accepts to hang out, of course...”

“Of course...” I looked below as Emily walked towards the stairs. Midway, she looked over her shoulder in my direction. In my direction, or his? I sighed again, turned on my reels, and went into class.

I wasn’t surprised when Theo told me—and two other friends—he’d been rejected. I was surprised, though, when he started attacking her verbally. Nothing severe, mind you. Certainly, just his wounded pride speaking louder. But now, for him, something indeed seemed off about her. Max and Fred soon entered the choir. I was mostly quiet, although giggling sometimes for the sake of appearances.

That same day, our eyes met again when she got on the bus. She looked me longer than usual, with a grimace. A chill ran through my spine. I got annoyed again like a grouchy old man. Why did she look at me like that? I pondered. Who the hell does she think she is, that little brat?

A few days passed, with our little game on standby, as she barely looked my way—until we met again, but this time under different circumstances. I was at the supermarket near my house when I saw a small, honey-colored-haired girl wandering near the groceries, as if lost in thoughts. She was wearing casual clothes and seemed somehow strikingly different from when she was in school uniform. Her hair was tied back in a cock, exposing her neck. And surprisingly, she was wearing glasses. More shockingly, it fit her perfectly. I don’t know why, but I just felt an urge to approach her, and I did, almost sneakily.

“Need help?” I asked the first stupid thing that came to mind.

She tilted her head slightly up, looking at me, and then made a face of utter surprise.

It was priceless when she started blushing. After awkward seconds, she replied, her voice soft as a petal but dry as a desert, “I’m fine, thanks.” She turned her head to the vegetables, pretending to forget I was there.

Insufferable little brat, I thought. But it was weird. I knew the sound of her voice, but being directly addressed by her felt different. I got out of my stupor and said, “Look, I’m just trying to be a gentleman here...”

“Why? You shouldn’t try so hard to be what you aren’t,” she said, showing her back to me and slowly moving her shopping cart, looking at the vegetables.

I sighed deeply. “You seemed lost, and since I know this supermarket quite well... Anyway, why do you think I’m not a gentleman? It’s not like we’ve talked before, or like we know each other.”

I think she got upset because her prominent lips curled slightly down.

“Who knows?” she said, stopping to grab carrots.

I sighed again, almost losing my temper. “I’m just trying to start some conversation with you–”

“Again, why?” she asked, still not looking at me.

I frowned. I was mad at her for the way she was acting, but also at myself because I didn’t have an answer to her why. Perhaps that was why. Perhaps I simply wanted to understand. But I wouldn’t say it aloud.

“I give up,” I said, throwing my hands up. “If you won’t even look at me, it is a waste of time.” I turned on my heels, but before taking two steps, I heard her voice.

“Sorry,” she said, a small smile on her face. “I kind of... enjoyed seeing you annoyed.”

I looked straight at her and nearly lost myself in the depths of those eyes. Even that slightly mocking smile was not enough to make me upset anymore. “And why is that?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Consider it retribution,” she said enigmatically.

I frowned. “For what?”

“Who knows?” she said with a contained, although infuriating, smile.

I uttered a curse, turned, and walked away. I heard apologies among giggles, someone following, and then a soft hand reached my arm. I turned again, already regretting it.

“Sorry, okay?” She breathed deeply, then continued, “It is kinda weird. Even though we’ve barely talked, it is like... I don’t know... it’s hard to explain,” she said, lowering her eyes, embarrassed.

I smiled at her uneasiness, but I understood what she meant. I felt like we’d talked a lot during the past weeks, not with words but through glances. As she saw my smile, she threw me a look. I cowed.

After that, we talked a little longer while I helped her find the goods she was looking for and bought my own. Apparently, her mother asked her to go ahead and buy stuff before they met at the supermarket. When we were at the beverage section, I made a surprising discovery: she had no cell phone.

“How do you contact your friends?” I asked, frowning. “Do you send them a carrier pigeon?” I laughed softly.

She blushed, averting her eyes. “It broke recently, and it is not worth fixing. Anyway, my mom will give me hers at the end of the year.” She placed some beverage on her cart, then looked at me. “And yes, I do send them letters, occasionally,” she said with a pout.

I nodded, but I couldn’t control the subtle smile that crawled through my face.

“You can laugh all you want," she said nonchalantly. "Maybe I'll send you a letter one of these days... I’d like to see your face when you get it.”

Not gonna happen, I thought. She did not have my address yet.

She didn’t tell me why she got mad a few days ago. I didn’t push her either. We just enjoyed shopping and talking until her mother arrived. I discovered many things about her that day. She could be annoying, but funny; superficial, but deep; uptight, but easy-going. And although she seemed shy when looked at from afar, she was certainly not shy after getting acquainted with someone. I learned many things, indeed.

After that, we got back to normal—if there was such a thing as normal in our weird relationship. By normal, I mean exchanging glances and, more often, smiles. By talking without words.

Because she had rejected my friend—who was still kind of sour towards her—we knew better and kept things as they were. We kept playing our game. A wordless game—except for fast and almost illegal chitchats when the opportunities arose. With time, we also developed other communication skills. We’d discreetly use our hands and facial expressions to talk when people weren’t paying attention. Sometimes, she’d be seated with her friends in the courtyard, then absentmindedly look at the balcony above, towards me. I’d make subtle and silly expressions conveying “last class sucked”. She’d start laughing—seemingly out of the blue to her friends—then blush slightly. It was quite a sight.

However, it was getting hard not being able to talk to her—especially after dreams. Sometimes, I’d wake up sweating, heart jumping in my chest, fresh images of her, of us, lingering in my mind, and then I’d get out of bed and smell that particular scent in the air, and when I’d look down, I’d see that hardened stain on my underwear, and I’d immediately bring my hands over my face, sighing at the realization I’d not be able to properly talk to her again, and then I’d be angry at my own cowardice for doing nothing, with my day generally sucking except for the memory of a wonderful dream.

It was almost the end of the school year when her letter arrived.

I was with Theo, Fred, and Max in our class during break when a friend of hers called me at the door. The guys immediately showed me grins. I shook my head, went to her. She tried to covertly hand me the letter, while whispering that it was from Emily and I could reply later. I smoothly placed it in my pocket as the girl ran away.

But it was too late. When I got back, they were grinning like hyenas, asking to see the ‘love letter’. I tried to refuse, but I was outnumbered.

When we opened the letter, it simply read, “Would you like to go to the movies with me this weekend? Emily.”

All I could think—between curses—was, why the hell did she sign it if her friend already told me it was from her?

Mesmerized faces stared at me dumbfounded. Then Theo was sour again, remembering what was almost forgotten. “Have you guys been talking? Or going out?”

I made a poker face. “Of course not. Have you seen us talking before?”

“Guess not,” he said, still frowning. The others agreed.

“She is indeed a weirdo,” Theo continued, shaking his head. “What century does she leave on? Really, a fucking letter?” He started laughing, followed by the others. I showed a small grin to keep up appearances.

“We should reply properly,” suggested Max in a sombre tone.

“That is it,” said Theo, sitting by my side.

Soon we were all seated around the table, a letter in its centre. They started talking excitedly about how to respond. I had a gloomy face, saying it wasn’t cool, but again, it was a lost cause—certainly because of my cowardice.

Although I don’t remember the specifics, the reply started fine, stating how beautiful and smart she was, with some poetry along the way. What I do remember clearly, though, is how it ended.

“About us hanging out together... maybe in another life, or perhaps never, your weirdo.”

We all signed the letter. Max went off and handed Emily the reply.

My heart shrank in my chest that day as nausea consumed me. Still, I thought I’d be able to explain to her what happened, then apologize properly, prostrating myself to her feet. Then, everything would be forgiven.

That day, when she entered the bus, I tried to look away, feeling ashamed. But naturally, our eyes met once more, and then I knew. I saw the sadness in her eyes and I felt like a knife had pierced my heart. I swallowed hard, looked away. I wanted to cry or punch the friend next to me, who was giggling as she passed.

Our game had ended. I tried to reach her, but it was no use. She barely paid attention to me during the last days of classes. I hardly saw her around town as well. With each passing day, I grew melancholic, easily angered. I’d lost... to myself... to my cowardice, and stupidity.

In the next school year, I decided to make things right. I’d apologize and humiliate myself if needed, but I couldn’t stand it longer. I missed her. But I soon discovered she had a boyfriend now. I cried that day, like a spoiled child. I wished they wouldn’t last, even if she got hurt in the process. I cried because I was weak and pitiful.

That year was complicated. I couldn’t focus on my studies, she always on my mind. At some point, I started hanging out with lots of girls, trying to forget or just show up. In the end, all that was left were regrets, unspoken words, and a greater distance between us.

Then I changed schools. I needed to get away and forget. My last year in high school was okay. I kept it to myself. My grades weren’t bad, and the next year I got admitted to college in a nearby city. Eventually, I started thinking less often about her. But that letter always haunted me, and with it, regrets and thoughts of what could’ve been.

Time passed, and I was soon a sophomore. To relax a bit during the summer, I went to a bookstore on campus. I was lost in thought, trying to decide which book to buy when someone asked, “Need help?”

I startled. I looked to my right, then saw a girl with shoulder length honey-colored hair and beautiful emerald eyes. She smiled at me, slightly. She got a bit taller, I noticed. Bigger breasts as well.

All at once, I was flooded by the feelings I’d been gradually suppressing over the years. “I’m sorry,” I finally said, lowering my eyes, ashamed.

“What for?” she asked, frowning.

I raised my eyes. “The letter, of course...” I murmured.

“That’s long forgotten. No need to apologize, silly.” She smiled.

But I knew better. I knew her looks and expressions; what they meant. It still bothered her. I clenched my fists. “It was childish, stupid, unacceptable...” I lowered my eyes, shaking my head. “I never meant that... but I was a fucking coward and let them drive my hands.”

She didn’t reply. Instead, she took a notepad and a pen from her purse and started writing. Then she handed me the note. It read, “Would you like to go to the movies with me this weekend?”

Suddenly, my eyes got wet as I looked at her beautiful and smiling face, thinking all I’d lost. I borrowed her pen and wrote, “It will be my pleasure.”

That weekend, I lifted a mountain from my shoulders. I didn’t apologize much because she threatened to kick my ass if I didn’t stop that. I also discovered she didn’t have a boyfriend anymore, for which I felt strangely relieved. We talked a lot and had fun, and even though I thought I wasn’t worthy, besides the gift of her company, she gifted me with the most amazing kiss I’d ever wish for.

We parted ways with an unspoken promise of “see you soon”, and I swore to myself I’d never make the eyes of that petite, infuriating, beautiful idiot who I loved ever sad again. I stand true to that promise.