Dear ________,

Chapter 1

Dear _______,

It took me a while to find the words to say, but I think I know now what it is exactly what I wanted to say to you. 

I have been wondering if you have purposely let it go as far as it did or if it was unintentional and left before one of us did something that would have a dire consequence. I had so many questions that were left unanswered, and though maybe that is the reason I can’t let you go. 

No matter the reason, it is summer and when fall starts I would be a college student. I want to be able to start a fresh new life and move on as if my junior year was just a mere fantasy. 

~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~

I stopped. I couldn’t help but feel a little bit of sadness as I wrote that last sentence on my unnamed letter. 

The year was 2010, date: June 30. A year has passes since I first met him, yet nothing is different. Politicians are still debating over the same subjects; no new laws have been passed, still sitting in the committee to be voted on. People are going to work and kids are enjoying their summer break. The prices are all the same, the gas prices are going up on a weekly bases, at some rare chance does it go down. Things that seem insignificant are still insignificant. 

I let out a sigh and put my pen down. The room he left locked, that I have never been into; I have finally seen the content within. 

There is a desk, which I am using to write my letter, near the middle of the room, closer to the window with a chair in between. Against the wall to the right are several shelves full of folders and on the left are file cabinets. I spinner the fabric office chair around to face the window and stared out into the bright sunny day. Although the weather was quiet warm, it did not stop people from going out and keeping the streets busy. 

I faced the room and picked up the pen, then went back to the letter: 

~~~~~**~~~~~~

When you left that keys to the apartment, leaving all the furniture in its place, but taking all your belongings with you, I didn’t understand then why you left this room, this always locked room, untouched, but I think I know what your intention for that is now. 

You wanted me to understand that you where really just trying to do your job, are that not right? A file for each of your students and thousands of notes on different methods of how to get a person interested into the subject they have the most trouble in. It was very important for me to know that, right? 

~~~~***~~~~~

I got up from the seat and opened the file cabinet with the letter F on it. I ran my fingers through the tabs: Fadi. Fahari. Fadri. Falcon. Feather. February. Fedde. Felice. I stopped my finger on Felix and pulled it out. I closed the cabinet before making my way back to the seat and opening the file to read. 

FELIX LEE: 
Sex: female
Date of Birth: 06-29-1993
Strengths: Mathematics, Philosophy, Language, Psychology, Sociology, Basic Science (Biology and Organic Chemistry).  
Weakness: History (dates), Social skills, Art, Literature, and Politics. 
Learning style: Converging, Assimilating, Diverging, Accommodating
Motivation: Unknown 
Aspiration: Unknown 
Ambition: Unknown
IQ test: 148
Typing: 70 wpm
Reading: 340 wpm 

~~~~~****~~~~~

You took your job very seriously. It made me wonder: what was your first impression of me? Was it like everyone else: snobby, arrogant, unpleasant, difficult, brat, and any other negative adjective and/or noun used to describe me?  To be honest I can’t imagine you thinking that, but for all I know you have been hiding behind a mask all this time. The idea of that breaks my heart, that all that time I have shared with you are a lie. 

~~~~~*****~~~~~

I felt water build up in my eyes. I looked up at the felling and set the pen on the desk, then took slow easy breaths. Slowly, in and out, then shut my eyes, resting it, as I allow this emotion that I’ve build up, as I wrote, pass. 

This is enough for today, I don’t need to do all of this all and once. I got up from his chair and moved to the door, at the open of the door a cold air blew in with the scent of his cologne still lingering through the apartment. It was the raw scent of wild roses: a little bitter, not sweet, but very relaxing. 

I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge looking at it with blank eyes: bottles of water on the door of the fridge, cartons of orange juice at the back of the fridge on the first shelf and cans of beer in the bottom drawer. My hand reached for it, pulled it open, and took out a can. I popped the can open, allowing the fridge door close slowly on its own as I took a sip, and walked into the bedroom. The king sized bed was the way he left it: neatly tucked in gray covers with pristine white with gray stripped pillows all plump.

I laid down resting my face down on the soft pillow. The smell was still so fresh with a hint of his shampoo on it. Bring back past memories with him.  I went into the drawer of the nightstand and took out my journal:

~~~~~~0~~~~~~

August 22, 2008. That was the day that it all started. Not hard to remember: was in library with however many books in hand, distracting me from things and memories I don’t want to remember. When I looked out into the sky, rain clouds were forming and I saw him standing by the window on the second floor of the staff building. It seemed as if he was looking right at me with a cup in hand. He raised his cup, greeting me that way, before walking away from the window.

I looked down at the gate. Students where slowly starting to walk onto campus. Many walking in with their friends, others are standing around staring at their phones, waiting for their friends to call from their friends to show up.

It is the first day of school again. Junior year for me. Decided it is best for me to try and show up to class. The Principal asked me to, so kindly. Sweet old man. I know he cares, thus I should at least try a little harder.

A staff member stepped out of the staff building and posted the students names and their classrooms on the bulletin board near the staff building. Everyone began to huddle around it, scanning the list for their name. I stayed in the library; watching all the students huddle around the bulletin board, squeezing themselves in there, trying to find their names, then find their friends. It took almost half an hour for the students to disperse into all directions and to their designated location. That was my turn to go check for the room I’m to be in.

When I located my class, and opened the door, the students glared at me before going back to their idle conversations. I scanned the room. Ah, perfect, my preferred seat was open. All the way in the back of the room near the window. Made my way all the way to the back. No one tried to pick a fight with me that time, not like the other times I’ve gotten to class after everyone else. I took my seat and looked at the sky again. It was going to rain.

How long after that did the bell ring? I can’t remember. When it did and the teacher walked into the class, a few minutes late, I realized it was the man who greeted me from the second floor of the staff building. Introduced himself as Lucian Gilberton.

~~~~00~~~~

Memories flooded my mind. His voice that morning was like dark chocolate; it was smooth, deep, and slightly bitter.

“Good Morning, I will be your homeroom and math teacher. My name is,” he went to the chalk board and wrote it down, “Mr. Gilberton. I’m going to take role first and go into what would be happening within the next two weeks.” He put on his frameless reading glasses and began reading off of the list. I remember I tuned it all out and stared out the window up to the sky. The clouds have not gotten any grayer than it was before. There is no rain yet. I raised my hand and confirmed my attendance half heartedly when my name was called.  The campus was empty except for a few students still wondering in the halls.

Day one went on as a blur.

Chapter 2

Today is July 1, 2010, in three days it would be a year since the last I’ve seen him; three days away from a year that I’ve held onto this pain. I’ve been living in this apartment he left me for exactly 10 months and 3 days. I fell asleep last night on top of his bed, face still down on the pillow and the comforter underneath me. When? I don’t remember.

The beer sat on the night stand, empty. I sat on my knees, still on the bed, and combed by long black hair with my fingers, but my bangs end up right where it was from the beginning. I got out of bed, with the can in my hand, and headed to the kitchen. The light on the voicemail machine was blinking and I click on it.

“Hey Felix, how are you?” It was Jen, “I haven’t heard from you all summer. Are you doing as I suggested you to do? I hope it all gets better. Call me, when you are free and ready and we will go hang out, okay? Bye.”

I grabbed a water bottle and went into his records room, or office. The unnamed letter to him was still sitting on the table, where I left it with the pen parallel to the letter. I walked to the cherry wood table and picked up the fountain pen. I sat in the black office chair and spun myself slowly to face the stand alone letter on the empty surface of the cherry wood table.  

~~~~~~******~~~~~~

I wondered if you left because I became attached to you, or if you have developed feelings for me, one of your students.

I still remember clearly my first weekend with you, at least as clear as any average human memories go.

It was morning and I was woken up to the smell of coffee and something sweet, like pastures that are fresh out of the oven. I got out of your bed and unlocked the door, slowly peaking out of it. I looked to the left and you were standing at the kitchen counter with stacks of paper in hand and a cup of coffee in the other. You had your glasses on, it suited you very well. You were too concentrated on the papers in your hand to notice me spying on you. I went back into the room and pulled out my black jacket with a hood out of my bag and put it on, zipping it up then placing my hands into its pockets. I stepped out and walked towards you. You noticed me and smiled, “Morning, how did you sleep?”

“Well, and you?” I asked.

“Just fine, thanks. Want coffee? I also have pastries if you want any.” 

“That is strange, you don’t look like one who likes sweets. I imagine you drinking black coffee and maybe dark chocolate with 60 to maybe 80 percent coco content?” I said with a smile.

You laughed, “I don’t mind sweets, they go really well with black coffee. So do you want any?”

“Sure,”I went and sat myself in front of you at the bar. I watched you take out a white coffee cup for the coffee and a desert plate of vanilla cake with strawberry filling and topping. I had the right mind to say, it is either you are a player, who woos girls a lot or you are gay,but I kept that comment to myself and thanked you instead. 

I glanced at the paper you set down as you went to get me the coffee, then setting it down on the coffee table. I noticed you over looked something. As I walked to your glass coffee table, I pointed it out, “There was a mistake on the second problem.”

“Hm?” You looked up from the plate and up you set down. 

“The student made a mistake but his.her answer wasn’t wrong. He or she just wrote six instead of nine.”

You went over to the stacks of paper you left in the kitchen, picked it up and looked at it, “Ah yes, thank you. Say -,” you looked up from the paper and at me with my fork in my mouth, “What do you want to do today I doubt you ever indulgent yourself with your situation.” 

I stared at you blindly then came to a realization and began to search for the time, “What time is it?”

You looked at me with a puzzled expression on your face before glancing at your watch, “8:30. Why?”

I sat for a moment and decided not to worry about my current financial problems at the moment and set myself back down comfortably on your couch with my legs crossed. 

“Oh, it’s nothing that I can’t do on another day,” I responded to you as I poked at a strawberry with my fork.

“Really, because for a moment there your face seemed quite uneasy.”

“Is it okay if I turned on the TV?” I asked.

You smiled and walked back into the kitchen, “Yeah, go ahead.”

From where I sat I saw no remote sitting out in the open. I didn’t fell comfortable searching through your stuff so I walked up to the television to try and find the power button. Before I could, you walked over and opened a drawer below the TV and pulled out the remote, “Sorry about that,” you turned it on and handed it to me.

“You don’t want to go anywhere special?” You asked me. 

“Thanks, but I’m fine. To be honest, I miss this: sitting on the couch and watching anything that is on with the family,” I hugged my legs, “You don’t know how significant those idle moments are until they are taken away from you.” You were still sitting in front of the TV, facing me.

“Well, if we are going to stay in, why not watch a movie?”

A movie, I couldn’t even remember the last time that I’ve watched a movie, pondering on this thought I happily agreed. I didn’t care for what movie it way. All that matter was the moment and feeling that my life was normal. For a single moment, I just wanted to forget that I was alone and just go on pretending that I lived a normal life, even if it only lasted for a second. 

I’m not sure how to explain it to you, my feelings of that day and of what you have given me. In a simple word, I would probably say that I was grateful to you for that weekend. I knew that it wouldn’t last forever, but I was okay with that at the moment. This feeling of being beside another person and a place where people would say, “Ah, this is a normal home.” Yes, I wouldn’t be able to stay in such a place for long. Like my family, this peace and comfort will go away too, so I shouldn’t get attached to it, but should spend this time to say good-bye to those feelings and be grateful that i had a chance to do so. How foolish of me to think that I can actually defy human nature. I feel so stupid to ever feel that way. It was my fault for ever getting so caught up. Right now, at this moment, I wish that it never happened.  

Sunday ran a lot like Saturday, but with the exception of me helping you around the house and grading papers. You played soft classical music in the background to help concentration and to deafen the silence in the room. When Monday came around, everything went back the way it was suppose to be, but it felt so different. It is surprising how much two days can change a person. Two days and this library, school campus, and this life of mine seem quiet foreign. Nothing changed about the school in those two days, everything was exactly the same before I left. When I think about it now, I pity my own weakness. It only took me two days to get attached to that feeling of normal life to make my home feel so empty and new (it is depressing).  

As you promised, it was only for that weekend. After that, you did not bother me about my living situation. I was a little disappointed, but there was no way I would have admitted that to you back then. 

You were right, I was bound to form a trust with you. I don’t know if it was the same moment for you, but this was where I believe a relationship was formed between me and you. 

School started in late August and by now it was late October. Two months of small unimportant chatter has passes. It was nearing the one holiday I hated the most, Halloween. The school had allowed the student council hold a Halloween party on campus from 8pm to 12am as a reward for their hard work.

I saw you through the library window walking through the hall way with a box in your hands and the sleeves of your white dress shirt rolled up. it was the first time I noticed you wore a watch. From what I can tell, at the distance I was at, it had a black strap and a silver or stainless steel face. 

As expected, you were surrounded by high school girls, holding onto rolls of paper and other stuff that I am assuming are for the Halloween party. Your face was so gentle with them, not that you were never nice to me. What am I saying, you have been nothing but nice with me, but with them your smile is gentle, calm, and cool. The girls around you were smiling happily, almost seemed like they were skipping. Yes, acting oblivious to their attraction is the best thing, and the only thing you can do, but what will you do when you get confronted? A confession. I left the library after that scene and wondered up to the roof and climbed to the highest point on the roof, the roof o the stairway entrance. I laid down with my ear buds in and my music loud enough to drown the noise around me and began to quietly sing to myself. When you got onto the roof, I did not know, but I was started by the sudden shade beside me. I leaned on my elbow and pulled off my ear buds. When I looked up you were the shade sitting beside me.

“You’ve got a good singing voice,” you said to me. I moved to sit up next to you.

“Thanks,” I said quietly looking at my feet. 

“Are you embarrassed?” you asked with a tone of amusement. I did not reply and you patted my head.

I looked up, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on break.”

“Aren’t you helping with the holiday celebration reparations?” I asked.

You looked at me, “How did you know?’

“I saw you,” I replied.

“I see. Well as you know, class comes first, so all the students are in class, and thus is my break and meeting period,” you replied.

“Did you know I was up here?” I asked.

“No, I thought you were in the library. I was going to come up here for a smoke, but you are here and I know you don’t like the smell as well as I shouldn’t be smoking in front of a student, so I am not,” You replied with a smile.

“I see,” I said, and reached into the pocket of my worn out jeans and handed you a lighter.

You looked at me strangely, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I understand. My mom use to do the same when she was stressed out, so it’s okay. You need to relieve stress right?”

You took out a cigarette and I lighted the lighter. You looked at me and covered the flames from the wind as you leaned in and lighted the cigarette, taking a puff before saying, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” I said looking at the sky.

“Do you..” you hesitated to ask, “Do you live with your mother?”

I knew this question was coming. I hugged my legs to my chest before answering, “No, she - she ran away.” At moments like those, memories like those, it really isn’t at all a numbing feeling. The pain was all there and has always been there, to a point where it feels like that is all there is, but there is no tears, just darkness. The tears have all been cried out over the days and months of endless pain. Some describe this as numbing pain, but I don’t think it is numbing at all. The pain is very much alive and sharp, like one under constant torture of being pierced with a spear. You saw that in me didn’t you? That was why you didn’t ask any further wasn’t it? That was why all you did was sit there quietly with your hand on my head, betting me, was it not?

All I wanted to do was to lay down. I leaned on your shoulder and rested my head. I closed my eyes, wanting to sleep and sleep for eternity not having to feel pain ever again. Life took too much effort to live, more than I had in me, but I continued living because I feared death. No, I did not want death, just an eternal sleep, in a world of fiction and not in the current one that i live in, which is called reality. I wanted to live in a peaceful and quiet dream.

When I woke, I found myself in the nurses office, laying in one of their beds, and the curtains were drawn. Somewhere, when I was resting on you, I fell asleep. You’ve must have carried me and placed me on the bed all dressed in white and placed the white sheet covers over me. You probably looked back with a sympathetic look on your face before pulling the white curtains closed behind you and left. 

When I woke, I sat in the bed dressed in white with the white sheet covers over my legs. I looked at the white curtains, trying to take a peak through the gap, but could not see a thing. I sighed and leaned my head against the wall staring up, trying hard to keep my mind blank. It wasn’t working so I got up and went to puck up my things. Did you go back to check on me and found that I was gone?

I wondered the streets alone that night. I didn’t feel like going anywhere, just wanted to walk. You probably find what I did reckless, but I think I was looking for trouble, something to take the edge off that can likely lead to my death. I got what I asked for.

“Hey, you seem lonely, want us to keep you company?” a strange man asked. I saw three of his buddies behind him trying to surround me.

I smiled, “Sure.”

“Cool, our car is right over there. We will take you somewhere fun,” he said as he put his arm around my shoulders and led me to the direction he said his car was, which I suspect to be a secluded ally. I elbowed his diaphragm, bent down and kicked the guy in front of me in the stomach. The other two backed away and pulled out their knives. 

“You bitch,” one of them called out. I didn’t care to remember how they looked like or my surroundings, all that matted was the thrill of the moment, a single moment where my life was on the edge and I felt so alive. It was me pushing out all my pain and anger out through violence, life threatening violence. 

The man I elbowed and the other one that I’ve kicked where still on the floor, trying to catch their breaths. One of them that had his knife out charged at me and his friend followed on my other side. I prepared myself, but you came out of no where and got behind the guy on my right, and grabbed the arm with the knife he was about to stab me with. He turned around surprised.

“Watch out!” I yelled at you. His friend changed target and ran towards you from behind, with the knife in hand. You managed to dodge last second and received a cut on your left side. The man in your grip found his moment to wiggle free. He lost his balance and I saw my moment. I ran up to him and kicked him in the chin, making him fly backwards, taking many steps back before falling to the floor. I looked up and saw you had the other man with his arm twisted behind him. You whispered a few things into his ear before you let him go and he ran off. The other two that was down earlier began to grown and attempting to get on their feet.

“Hurry, into the car,” you beckoned me. I followed you and got into the passenger seat of your car and we drove off.

When we were far away from the scene you asked me, “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah, but you’ve been cut,” I replied.

“I’m fine, its only a little scratch,” you said not looking away from the road and face very serious. I’ve never seen you like that before. “Where do you live? I’ll take you home.”

“I -,” I hesitated, but after what you’ve just did for me, I saw no reason to keep it hidden, “I don’t have a home.”

“You don’t have a home?” you repeated, “Where do you sleep at night?”

“The librarian gave me a key to the library and her office. She has a couch that I often use as my bed,” I said.

“Do you want me to take you back to school or do you wish to follow me?” You asked, but I could not answer. 

“If you don’t say anything, I will take you back to school,” you said.

“Let me at least look at your wound, it is the least I can do,” I replied.

“So you want to come home with me?” you asked and I nodded, “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes please, if it won’t be too much of a bother,” I said.

Me hurting myself was one thing, but getting you, a third party that was never meant to be involved, got hurt because of me. I could not forgive myself of such deed. 

You parked the car. I looked out the window and it was an apartment complex, but it almost looked like some luxury hotel. The glass door were automatic. When you entered, with your coat on and hands in your pocket, you waved at the doorman and he greeted you. I followed closely behind you. We entered the elevator and you pressed the button for the twentieth floor. It was a quiet trip up. When we got out you guided me to the right and the room all the way at the end, 2067. You unlocked the door and allowed me to enter first.

“Sorry for the intruding,” I said before entering. You followed after and turned on the light before shutting the door and locking it. You walked passed me into your living room. There was a large glass coffee table, a long white fabric couch next to it, and a flat screen television mounted on the wall with shelving space below, all on a tan colored carpet surrounded by white walls. I didn’t see any decorations on the wall or any personal effects, as if you only use this building to sleep or as an office, but even offices have personal effects, right? From what I can see, there was only one window, which was right in front of us. It was the same length as your three-seat sofa. I couldn’t tell the height because that window was always covered with the curtains.

You took off your coat and walked into a room beside the kitchen, “Help yourself to what ever is in the fridge. I’m going to get cleaned up and dress the wound,” you said.

“Let me help,” I suggested.

You looked at me for a moment, “You are not as cold and not caring as you play out to be,” you said with a smile. I couldn’t tell you this was my fault, that you got hurt. I was out looking for trouble, but I didn’t know you where around. Even so, if I didn’t go out searching for it then you would have been home with no injury and doing what you do, what ever you do, as always. Even if it wasn’t completely my fault, I am still responsible. I looked at my feet trying to hid my guilt, but probably only making me look more guilty or pitiful. 

“Are you sure you want to see it?” you asked as you began to slowly unbutton your dress shirt, giving me time to think and decline the offer, but i did not and nodded. You went through the buttons at regular pace and slowly peeled off the shirt, for the blood stained shirt was stock to your wound. I walked over and looked at the wound closely. No odd discolorations and the blood was beginning to clot. 

“I think you’re going to be okay,” I said.

You smiled, “I had no doubt that I would be.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to have an innocent bystander get hurt,” I said.

“Innocent bystander?” You had a questionable look on your face, “I ran in there willingly and knowing the dangers of it.”

“I know, but still, I feel responsible,” I tried my best giving you my reasons without spilling out my guilty conscience. 

“Don’t. Look, help yourself to whatever is around here, I will be out in a few minutes,” You said to me bending down to my eye level searching for my glance to show that I understood what was request of me. I nodded. You petted me on the head. What would you have done if you knew I was prepared to die that night? If someone cared enough to save a life that one wants to throw away, does that give a reason for the survivor to continue to live? What happens now, I thought to myself. I sat at your couch and brought your coat to my lap and stared into space. Fifteen to twenty minutes later you were out of the showers and had a first aid kit with you.

“You okay?” You asked me when you found me staring into space.

“Hm?” I looked at you, you had a towel around your stomach to clog the bleeding and you wore grey sweats. 

“Are you cold?” You asked when you saw I had your coat on my lap.

I looked down, “Oh no, I’m fine,” And put the coat aside.

“Can you help me with this?” You lifted the box.

“Yes, of course,” and I walked over to you. I took a cotton patch and taped it over the cut and wrapped a white cloth around to secured the placement. 

“Thanks,” you said, “I see you took nothing from the fridge. Sure you don’t want anything? I’ve doubt you eaten anything all day.” 

“No, I’m fine,” I replied.

“If you need the shower it is in there. I’ll find something for you to change into. You can sleep in the bedroom. I’ll stay out here. Lock the bedroom door if you need.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on staying. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay or not,” I replied.

“It is getting late and it is the weekends tomorrow. Do you really want to stay in an empty school for two days?” you asked, and with no hesitation i replied, “yes.” 

“Really? Fine, then do it for my sake. I did just save you,” you said insistingly.

“Are you sure you are doing this for my well being?” I asked. 

“I don’t believe any child should be sleeping on the streets or in the school library, but at home. I don’t know your living situation, and I won’t pray if you feel uncomfortable in talking about it or don’t trust me enough o talk about it. So the most I can do is offer you my home. Stay for this weekend, if you really want to go back after that i will not stop you.”

I realy didn’t want to say. I’ve been alone for so long, I found it uncomfortable to have another presence around and you where a man, I couldn’t trust you. You must have saw it on my face.

‘There is a lock on the bedroom door,” you searched through a drawer in the kitchen, “This is one of the key to the room, the other one is sitting in the bedroom nightstand,” I took the key and looked at you, then nodded. 

“Are you going to use the shower? If not I’ll just grab something for you to change into,” you said. 

“It’s fine, I’ll manage,” and I went into the bedroom with my bag over my shoulder, “Good night,” waited for you to respond and shit the door behind me and locked it. I studied the room, I looked for any strange holes or items, inspecting every detail of your room and tread around quietly so you would not hear. I felt around the king sized bed and the headboard. The covers of your bed were of a solid light gray color and so was the bed dress. You had four pillows that i patted down, two in the back were white and two in the front matched the bed. Your headboard was the same color as your bookcase, a dark brown color with a tint of red, was it cherry wood? I looked at your bookcase, it was filled with different textbooks and literature, but mostly math books. Well, you are a math teacher. I looked into your closet, it was very well organized . It was divided into two sections, work clothes and casual wear, then divided by coats/jackets, shirts, and pants. I looked though your dresser, the first drawer contained your pajamas, separated by top and bottom, neatly folded.The second was your socks and underwear, well boxers really, which was also neatly divided and folded. I started to think you have some Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder or maybe you were just a neat freak. The last drawer, I was more surprised by what I did not find. The last drawer was the bed covers and dresses and underneath that was a gun. At the end of the search, I found nothing suspicious, of anything perverse, or perverted either. Now I questioned if you were straight. Well at least at that moment I did, but I know now what your sexual orientation is. Even after all that investigation and finding nothing, I still felt uncomfortable changing in your room, but did so. I put my school uniform in my bag and took out my own pajamas, well the bottom at least, and slept in the undershirt I had on under my uniform. 

I can’t say I am feeling any better writing this. It reminds me that I am carrying feelings for you that I shouldn’t, and thus why I have to keep writing this. I am not crying, just enough sadness and loneliness to feel kind of numb. 

“You don’t trust me do you,” you asked me one afternoon in the library when you were on your break.

I laughed a little, “I don’t try to hide the fact I don’t trust you or people in general, in fact I flaunt that around.”

“Someday I’ll find out why.”

“That would require me to trust you.”

“Maybe someday you will, who knows. There is a full year or two ahead of us.”

“If you keep talking like that, I doubt it,” I replied, slightly crept out.

“I merely mean when two strangers spend enough time together a trust and friendship is formed and they are no longer strangers. I don’t have any ulterior motives,” you said calmly.

My eyes did not leave the building I was staring at. I could feel your eyes watching me and I turned to you. I saw your brown eyes studying me behind your reading glasses and your hands folded in front of you, leaving your elbows on the table with a book in between them, open. 

“What?” I asked.

“I am just wondering why your thoughts always lead you to that direction. Could something have happened to you?”

“Nothing of that sort,” I said defensively. “The fact is you are a man spending his break talking to a high school girl.”

There was a long silence before you finally spoke, “You want to know the truth?” You got up and walked over to me, taking the chair nearest you when you were right in front of me and sat down, leaning towards me. “Here is the truth, you are an anomaly. It is understandable for a person who doesn’t care for their education and school to do badly on their test and never show up to school, but you only never show up to class and can be found on campus everyday. When you do show up to class, and if it was a test day, you can get a perfect score. Do you find the classes boring? If that was the case, and you find that it is to easy for you, the school can, and did, offer you to graduate early, but you refused the offer. from what I have observed, you don’t have any friends that are holding you back and you obviously don’t care what others think of you. So, here I am, trying to understand this anomaly, to see if I can help and understand you.”

I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t give an answer. I didn’t know how to, so I stayed silent. It wasn’t long until the bell rang and you got up sighing, “I’ll see you around.”

That day I ran to the roof and hid in the shade, hugged my legs and cried.

 There is a strange calming when one looks up to the vast open space of the sky, the nice fall breeze, and the birds chirping away on some distant tree or perch. I laid down were I sat and, not knowing when, fell asleep. When I woke it was night. I remember that night the door was locked. I walked to the rail and looked at the empty campus with its gates locked but the hallway and classroom lights were still on.

I didn’t wait long before I heard the door open.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. I could tell you rushed up here as you tried to forcefully calm down your heavy breathing.

“The door was locked,” I replied.

“Oh, well come in then,” you beckoned me. 

You closed the door when I made it inside and took out a ring of keys. “It seems they locked the outside but not the inside. So how long have you been out there?”

“Since noon, I fell asleep and didn’t wake until a few minuets or hours ago.”

“You fell asleep?”

“I was tired.”

“Oh, I see. They are suppose to check if anyone is up there before locking it.”

“Why are you still here?” I asked.

 ”Hmm? I was finishing up some work.”

By now we had climbed down three flights of stairs and close to the main entrance to this building. 

“Wait,” you stopped me. I turned around, “I’m pretty much done for the day, do you need a lift?”

I gave a small smile, “Thanks, but I’ll manage.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow,” and you were off down the hall.

I expected you to continue insisting, but you didn’t. I had no complaints.

I went to the locker room, got my stuff, and checked my wallet. I had enough to last me for another two weeks so I went into a covenant store to buy dinner.

You probably didn’t notice, but I ran into again that day. You looked tired and your dark hair was disheveled, but it didn’t look messy, just very casual. From the way you looked right at that moment, you looked like one of those protagonist criminal masterminds always shown on TV. I hid myself behind some racks of chips and watched you approach the counter to buy a pack of cigarettes, open it and put one in your mouth before walking out of the store.

I don’t really understand why I hid. I want to say it was natural instinct, that is understandable right?

I’ve been told that pain gets easier to coop with and heal if I can tell my story, naming the events, in a chronological order. Right now that is hard to do because all I can think about are the things that made me fall for you. What happened after that day, when I hid from you at the covenant store, was a blur, memories that seem so unimportant and dull.

It was the first time I hadn’t seen you all week. It had only been a month or two that I’ve known you so it didn’t really bother me. Two weeks had passed, then on the third week of the second day, Tuesday, you showed your face. 

“You missed me?” you asked.

“Hmmm?” I was still buried in the book I was reading. “If you were expecting some girly, ‘Where have you been sensei,’ response, like those in a Japanese graphic novel, you have sorely mistaken.

“I was only kidding,” you said raising both of your hands up, showing you meant no harm.

You looked at the stack of books on a table in front of me, “You have been very busy, I see. Your not causing trouble for the librarian I hope.”

I closed the book in my hands, “I know where they go. The Dewey System and Library of Congress Classification System were created to make books easier to find and organize.” I turned away from the window and faced you, in my favorite seat at the windowsill. “So how have you been?”

You smiled, “So you do miss me.”

“No, I just find it impolite not to ask.”

You laughed, “I finally was able to get away from the countless amounts of meetings and tutoring appointments.”

“That was why you’ve became a teacher right, to teach students?” I asked.

You eyed me, “Come now, with your skills of observation you must have noticed.”

I laughed, “So you knew.”

“I have to act oblivious to it or who knows what trouble I might get into,” you replied with a sigh.

“And you know for a fact that I am not like the rest of them?” I asked amused.

“I didn’t become a teacher without the ability to read people,” you said, picking up one of the books on the table, “Common Sense by Thomas Paine, Crito by Plato, The Arts of War by Sunzi, War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy, are you going into a philosophy major?”

“Not sure, I currently really like Albert Einstein’s Relativity: The Special and General Theory.’ I replied. 

You smiled, “Really, are you sure you have no plans in being a leader in the future?”

“It is merely to increase one’s self intellect.”

“Yes, but people whom knows something don’t very often stay quiet. Quite the opposite actually, they try to get their voices heard and lead the general population to a new age.” On that note you concluded, “My break is almost over, I’ll see you around.”

“Bye,” and you left. I picked up the books, looked at them and began to put them back. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with the things I know, I still don’t, but I know I can’t trust myself in leading people. 

For the longest time I’ve wanted to write to you, it wasn’t until now did I know what I wanted to say to you.

You knew things would have come to this, didn’t you. I most likely knew too, somewhere deep in me, but refused to recognize it, was it the same with you? Was that why you left when it was practically too late? Or was it because you felt that you might not be able to control yourself in making a grave mistaking?

None of that matters now. After six months of not knowing what to do with myself and another two months of having less things that remind me of you, I write this letter, with the advisement of my dearest friend, to put the last of my past behind me, where it belongs.

I won’t lie, I still have feelings for you, and I’m not sure if that will ever go away. You will probably be that one I use to measure all the other guys that approach me and the ones I do decide to go out with. You might even be the best out there and the one I will always regret of letting go, but I didn’t have much of a choice there, did I.

I’ve always wondered what was your thoughts of me when we first met. Was it like everyone else: snobby, arrogant, unpleasant, difficult, brat, and any other negative adjectives used to describe me? Were you nice to me because it was your job to be, because you pitied me, or was it solely because it was your personality to be nice to everyone? I suppose I will never find out now. 

For the longest time I wished you never showed up in my life. The girl who sat in your classroom, close to the very back of the room by the window, staring at the vast space of the cloudless blue sky was not lonely, but very content with her life. I might have been bored, but I found everything quite boring back then, maybe even a little right now. 

After that class, and the ten minute break started, I did not go back. Instead I decided to go lounge around on the roof. The one that the janitors have a tendency to leave unlocked for their smoking breaks. 

When I left, did you go searching for me or did you really go to get some fresh are? I have to say I was quite startled when you opened the door and walked onto the roof, making your way to the edge. I watched you as you leaned against the railing for a few moments before heading back where you once came, then you noticed me. For a second you were surprised, the next you grinned at me and asked, “How did you get up there?”

“I jumped.”

“Really,” you said with a chuckle. You motioned me to move aside and in one swift movement you were next to me, sitting. “I see why you like it up here, nice view. Even though there is only a slight elevation, it sure makes a difference.”

I moved to the edge and leaped off. You called after me, “Leaving already?” 

“I hate the smell of cigarettes.” I said before I opened the door and left. You must have been surprised that I could smell that scent even though you tried really hard to cover it with mint and colon.

If I think about it now, I have to ask, have you ever purposely seek for me? I find it hard to believe that all those times I ran into you was a mere coincidence.

“It is strange how I keep running into you,” you said to me on the third day of school. that made it the fifth time in three days.

“We are on a gated campus, I think it is quite common,” I replied without looking up from my book as I sat on the windowsill, leaning against the wall.

“Yes, true, but even in a gated campus, one might not see a good friend for a week.”

“I’ll try very hard to stay out of sight then,” I said to you as I closed my book and got up to leave.

“It didn’t mean I don’t enjoy your company,” you said as you blocked my way, “I’m sorry if I offended you, that was not my intention.”

“What are your intentions?” I asked looking up at you.

“Merely to get to know my students so I know how to help them better.”

I scoffed at those words, “Sounds like what a pedophile would say.”

You laughed, “I’d cut off my own hands before I lay a hand on a student. High school students think they know everything and believe they have the grasph of their own emotions and of life. So many of them believe they are the center of the universe and the most important moments of their lives are right now, this moment in high school.”

“Ah, the truth has been reveild. So what are you doing here, workign as a teacher?”

“Molding the minds of our future leaders.”  

“Then, there is more reason why you don’t need to talk to me. My mind does not need molding and I have no plans to be a leader of anyone’s future.” I said as I tried to walk pass you. 

At that moment it felt like you were going to try and block my way,  but you gave up that idea.

Why?

Even when I don’t attend class, I still see you two to three times a day.

I remember one afternoon I found you on the roof with your back against the rail, leaning against your elbows, and with your legs crossed in front of you. You had a slight surprised look on your face. 

“Do you eat lunch up here?” you asked.

“No, I’m just not hungry,” i replied as I took my place beside you, leaning on the rail with my arms. 

“I thought you hated the smell of cigarettes?”

“I do,” I replied and leaned closer to you. Were you slightly startled by my actions? I set myself straight again, “I don’t smell it on you today.”

You gavea small laugh, “Really, that’s good.” 

Was it then we became friends? I’m not sure, but I remember thinking that if I was going to run into you so often, I might as well make those moments pleasant ones for I really hate having unpleasant moments in my life and you, well, you really weren’t a bad person, were you.