Unwelcome Surprise

        A crisp breeze swirled around Tamara as she walked on the crunchy bronzed leaves. The air was a mixture of fresh hints of water, distant burning leaves, and mown grass. The mild autumn sun kissed her chestnut hair, and imbued her with a sense of well-being. Her cotton clothes rippled in the wind.

             Her gray eyes searched across the lawn for the familiar face. The runner’s figure, the smiling eyes, the special light for her in those eyes had not appeared. A sudden frisson pierced her shoulders. The ground felt harder beneath her feet. A few more steps and Tamara entered the building. The air smelled of fresh bread, toasted cheese, and garlic. Her hands grasped a tray as her feet propelled her to the line. The strains of a popular song filled her ears. She still did not see him. 

            The chair was cold and unyielding as she sat down. The first bite was comforting. A little melted mozzarella clung to her fork. The food was warming, yet Tamara felt a shiver. Her head swivelled around to see only strangers in the room. The walls were beige and gold. The floor was a cold speckled pattern on a white background. The clatter of trays, silverware, and happy chatter amplified. She stretched and stood, carrying her tray to the conveyor. 

             The wind resumed its caresses on her face. Her peach-colored shirt rose and fell rhythmically. Her hand reached up to brush a tiny leaf off her face. Voices sounded all around her, none spoke to her. She paused, unsure where to go next.

Her feet decided to direct her to the library. The odor of dusty tomes and glue filled her nostrils as she picked a spot facing the door. There was Liz at another table. Her platinum blond head shook as she turned to greet Tamara. “Hi Tamara. Hey, are you okay?”

“Just missing someone.”

“Let me guess..”

“Don’t say it Liz.”

“Ok. Well, see you around.”

Liz’ red and denim blue figure grew smaller and smaller, then disappeared through the olive green door. Tamara’s head resting down on her arms, she viewed red light from behind her eyelids. Then green light, then red light reappeared, then black. What a world there was of color and change behind the eyelids! She felt heavy, and tired. The stairs were a little harder to climb than usual up to her room. The smell of chemicals assailed her as she passed by the group bathroom. At last, she could lay her head down comfortably. She gathered her hair up off her neck and sunk into the comfort of the soft pillow. 

           She tried to rest, she knew it was needed, yet her mind would be so active. The daylight was hard to block out too. Sleep

just would not come. The other side of the pillow was cooler. Where was her friend John? She had not realized how much she relied on him to brighten her day. He was usually around. Her body felt too warm. Had she slipped off at last? The sensation of pins and needles needed to be shaken off. Her arms shook and her neck rolled. The image in the mirror prompted Tamara to comb her hair and wipe her eyes. Down the hall, it was quiet as she found the public sink in the shower room, and brushed her teeth. A shape flitted by in the hallway. Startled, the water in the sink splashed over her dropped toothbrush. Rinse, rinse, rinse, and repeat. It was probably nothing to worry about.

         Back on the path between buildings, Tamara gave the day a second chance. Maybe Liz would be running the snack shop across the field, and she could look around, and ask her if she had seen him. Liz would tease, but it might be worth it. Her shoes kicked the fallen leaves as she approached the snack shop/mail center. There he was. He had some envelopes in his hand, and dropped one when their eyes met. 

“John, where have you been?”

“Oh, I had a meeting with my floor. Tamara you look great!”

“Thanks, you look nice too.”

“Do you want to hang out in Clark South?”

“Sure!”

       Her skin felt warmer under the distant sun as they walked back to the library lounge she had seen Liz in earlier. All was right with the world. 

John opened the olive green door for her. She stepped down lightly into the now empty room. A tickling sensation on the back of her neck made her squirm. It was John. 

“Oh, you’re ticklish, I’m going to tickle you until you can’t breathe!”

Tamara’s eyes opened wide with fear. She ran away behind a table. He laughed and chased her. Her heart pounded as she determined to escape. Around and around she ran as if from a terrible danger. She would not be caught. Up the stairs, out of the library, her legs did not stop until they reached the safety of her room, which she locked. Tears made tracks down her soft cheeks.

Her pillow caught a few drops. Her legs were so weary. Her head began to ache, her throat was dry. 

         John remained below in the library, confused and concerned. His hand brushed his hair back. His brow furrowed. What happened to his good friend? Why was she suddenly afraid of him, when all she had needed to say was no? There was something there, outside of the circumstances, that had caused her extreme fear. She had to have known she was safe, right? 

He felt that truly, psychology student that he was, he knew very little. He wouldn’t have peace until he discovered her secret. His hand reached for the phone three times, then fell each time in indecision. 

Maybe she needed time to process her overreaction. He stalked back across the grass, the wind like small knife cuts upon him. His stomach felt queasy and disturbed. A lump formed in his throat. Had he ruined everything? Would she turn away from

him? Dear reader, though they remained friends, he never did learn what happened that day.