A Realization

Don’t say it.

“Thank you…” 

My fist clench tightly as trepidation filled my body. Anything but those words.

“…it’s just what I wanted!” 

Those words melt my brain once again as I stare blankly at him. My mouth continues to respond with empty courtesies towards him as a no longer present mind has already lost itself, an endlessly repeating phrase rings audibly from the depths.

“Ah. I failed.”

It should have been around summer when I started to take notice of Fitts. After all, he was wearing rather light clothes for the time, and the thickness of his outfit is a better indicator of the current weather than any forecast. I don’t want to say it was summer though since he was at school, but the fact that he only went around in a t-shirt that day solidified in my mind that it was a sunny day, no colder than 60 degrees. 

I had encounters with him prior, friendly ones at that. You see, Fitzgerald is a rather naturally agreeable person; there was not a single person that came to mind who I could say was on bad terms with him. Why would they? He came to classes on time every morning and share notes with the teacher’s pet, he’d hang out with all the popular kids and talk about how last week’s party went, he’d sometimes share a lunch with the ones who sit alone in the cafeteria, sneak into the teacher’s lounge with the troublemakers to steal from the fridge, and help teachers put away equipment when everyone else has left.

In other words, he’s the type of guy who knows how to get on one person’s good side without getting on another person’s bad side. To be honest, I have no idea what that even means, but that was my conclusion after observing him manage to mediate an argument that occurred between a student and a teacher.

I didn’t register anything that was said at the time, but as the words flowed out of his mouth, I remember that my thoughts at the time were along the lines of “ah, he really does know how to say exactly what people want.” 

Of course, I only started to notice this after I had started paying him any mind. See, it was Valentine’s Day, and while we were old enough to finally conscious of the underlying implications that chocolate giving had, we were also still young enough for the teachers to make giving chocolates to the rest of the class mandatory. “An attempt to start budding romances across classmates?” Definitely not, but I had entertained the idea for a period of time as I was chewing a chocolate shaped heart. The odd thing that I came across was the repeated phrase I kept on hearing as I was mindlessly eating chocolate places upon my desk.

“Thank you, it’s just what I wanted!” I briefly glanced at the auburn haired fellow repeatedly thanking those who gave him treats. It reminded me of both a golden retriever and a robot with how mechanical, and diligent, he sounded. Something about it gave a rotten feeling however, and it wasn’t because I was eating too many Hershey’s bars at the time. Since I had something come up directly after, I thought little of that feeling and continued on with life.

Later, during a white elephant gift exchange, those same words ended up coming out of his mouth. Picking up the package wrapped with green wrapping paper, he unwrapped 5 layers of boxes—a practical joke by one of the class clowns no doubt—before finally opening the final box to discover a single pair of socks. The fabric consisted not even of wool, the present was just a normal pair of white cotton socks without a shred of individuality to distinguish them, yet all the same, Fitzgerald smiled and proceeded to recycle the same phrase “Thank you, it’s just what I wanted!” 

Amidst the laughter amongst the crowd of classmates, I had come upon a realization. That rotten feeling was his disingenuousness. That must just be his response to any present he receives that he never wanted, since no kid could possibly want a pair of socks. While my legs remained seated on the ground, my heart decided to stand and take those words as a challenge.

“Thank you, it’s just what I wanted!” The response I had received on that summer day was the first failure I experienced. 

Prior to this moment, I had decided to hang around Fitts more, making excuses to sit next to him on the bus, watching carefully to take great care of what sorts of designs he wears for clothes and whatnot, as well as his various interests. He tended to wear darker colored t-shirts, with graphic hoodies with unintelligible text. For the first gift giving attempt, I had used the excuse of winning an important soccer match, throwing at him a hoodie with various sports icons detailing it. 

In response, he smiled and said those words. Disappointment filled my chest, but I had resolved to continue.

“Thank you, it’s just what I wanted!” Another failure, winter of that same year. A Christmas present. His birthday did pass, and I did in fact give him a gift, but it ended up overlapping with another person’s gift so I never counted it. I was also taking the time to watch his reactions to other presents; he gave the same rehashed response though. A soccer ball, baseball bat, a blanket, some trading cards, a jacket: none of those managed to get anything besides his usual phrase. 

All of those items happened to align with his interest, but they were things I noticed he already had better versions of the things people got him already. That’s why, I decided to get into one of his hobbies myself in order to try and figure out what he would actually want. 

Finally, I settled on a certain game series. A certain action game series where the main character runs around killing demons. It was a bit of a shock to my parents asking for a console and 5 different games at once, but that was that. 

I already knew he had all the games, so I ended up getting him the developer artbook for the series. 

But I received the same response as all those other presents. Still, I continued on.

Signed baseball from one of his favorite players after the baseball match; the entire dvd series of a show he really likes; a vanilla cupcake; a back massager…none of them garnered the reaction I wanted. 7 years had passed, and nothing had changed. 

Today’s present was just an eraser I jokingly handed to him and said “here, your birthday present.” And he smiled with his pearly white teeth and shot an ice cold dagger through my hand. I gave him a slight punch in the arm to let out my frustration, but he just laughed in response. My will to continue with this farce has almost disappeared at this point and I’ve just been doing this on reflex; it still hurts just as much as the first time. 

Sitting back down in my seat, I watch as a figure brushes past my face as she pops into the circle. “Oh it’s your birthday?” Her dark brown eyes are rather listless, as if she had just woken up. If I remember correctly, her name was Skyler.

“Oh Skylar,” I basically got it right. “no it’s not actuall-“ 

“Here” to my surprise, she pulls out a piece of paper and hands it over to Fitts. I expect him to give his usual response. As he had done for the past 7 years of my memory, and I would yet again smile as another person falls into the trap of listening to his dronelike response

But my ears fail to hear a single thing. I turn to look at his face and I can’t say a thing either as I see his expression. 

“Thank you, it’s just what I wanted!” He says the line, but even so, I knew it was different. It was completely different. Gone was that rotting feeling, and instead, it was a different, bitter feeling within my stomach. I became unable to watch the two as I find myself crouched down on the bed.

“Ah, so that’s how it was.” A small pool of liquid sits on my arm as I reflect.