Short Story: At the Gates of Faraday

At the Gates of Faraday

I was a little tired after bringing all my luggage downstairs and into the foyer, so I sat down on the couch and took in several deep breaths. Summer break is coming to an end, and, like every other time I come back to Dallas, I stayed home as long as possible. My first class of the fall semester starts tomorrow at 11:30 AM, so I have to leave my house around 7 AM if I want to make it to class on time—my university is a 3-hour-drive away. But, I tell you, I’m not really sure if I want to go back. It’s so easy being here at home, it’s relaxing. I feel no pressure. I’m not sure what it is about my house that calms me—maybe it’s Rocky and Luna, my dogs; maybe it’s the scent of the house; maybe it’s the quietness and stillness of the neighborhood. I’m not sure, but I’m thinking about staying here.

Listen, back in March I got a nice scholarship. I won’t tell you how much it was worth, but it was good deal. I won’t have to pay a single penny out of my own pocket for the entire year. So it’s not that I’m scared of the university itself. It’s a cool place, I like how busy it is and all. Even if it gets a little too humid at times. I know I can pass all the classes too, so it ain’t that either. It’s got to do with Melody.

Melody was a girl I knew back in high school. I was a Junior when I met her—she was Senior. We got along real well—she and I were into the same bands and books and all. I used to call her kitten because I thought that she was cute and I sort of liked her. And that was the problem. I didn’t really like her enough to get into a romantic relationship. I mean she was gonna graduate and go off to college while I still had another year of high school to finish. I’ll go ahead and admit that I was a total asshole back then. I led her on, I hurt her, and so we stopped talking. But before she graduated and moved away, she gave me back some books I had let her borrow. And although I knew I should have apologized for the way I treated her, I didn’t. I was still being an asshole. So she went off to North Texas University and died in a car accident her sophomore year. When I found out, I went numb. And because I never apologized to Melody, I felt that I should never get romantically involved with another girl again. Melody didn’t deserve to be treated the way I treated her, so, I think, I don’t ever deserve to be in a good relationship.

But another thing happened back in March. It’s sorta funny. I got lazy last semester and started waking up later and later than usual, so I was always running late to class. And my university is huge, by the way. Like I said, it gets really humid sometimes so I don’t like to actually run to class—I sweat horribly. I just try and walk fast, you know? Well one day I was late for English class and as I was running across Central Lawn I found some paper laying on the grass. It was an essay and I wanted to read it—I’m an English major, by the way—but I was running out of time. So I stuffed the essay into my backpack and made it to class before the professor, Dr. Clarke, called roll.

I didn’t do the assigned reading for class, so as Dr. Clarke began his lecture I got bored and started to doodle in my notebook. Then I remembered the essay I found, so I pulled it out and looked at it. It was written by a girl named Sophia De La Cruz. The essay was some sort of analysis about American women writers during the twentieth century or something, I can’t really remember. But it was beautifully written. I mean her writing flowed so well. The thing that killed me, though, was the fact that it reminded me of Melody. I forgot to tell you this, but when Melody gave me back my books the summer before she moved away for college, she left a note in my copy of The Stranger. I didn’t find it until two years later, after she passed away. It was a long note and I won’t tell you what all it said, but she had this really nice line in there. She said, “Don’t let your mistakes hold you back from greatness.” It was great, I thought she hated me and all, but she took the time to write me a nice note. I miss her like hell.

Anyway, Sophia’s essay reminded me a lot of Melody’s note and I sorta felt like I knew Sophia personally. I’m not sure why, but I pictured Sophia looking a lot like Sor Juanna who’s on the 200 pesos bill. Maybe it was the name, or maybe the fact that both Sophia and Sor Juanna are good writers. So, I wanted to meet her—Sophia I mean, not Sor Juanna.

Listen, it’s 2017, so I have no doubt that she has a backup copy of her essay on her computer or something. But if I wanted to see Sophia, my only opportunity was to give her back her essay. We’ve got this online directory—most people don’t know about it. You just type in a student’s name and you can find out their classification, major, and email. So I typed in her name and found out two things: she’s an English major, like me, and she’s a Senior. She might be older than me, maybe. I don’t know. I fucked up and didn’t go to college right after I graduate high school, so I’m a year behind the students my age. But I got her email address and I sent her a message explaining that I found her essay and that I wanted to give it back to her. I got kinda anxious—this girl has no idea who I am, and, hell, she might not even respond, you know? Like I said, she oughta have a copy of her essay on her laptop or something.

But in the afternoon of the next day, she responded saying she could meet me in Faraday Hall, which is the dorm sorta by the center of the university, in the evening after she finished all her classes for the day. So, here’s when I start to feel conflicted. I fucked up with Melody before. I was an asshole and I didn’t deserve to feel romantic or happy anymore. But I was excited about meeting Sophia. I started to feel something intense for her just by reading her essay—like a relieving but exciting sort of feeling. It’s the same sort of feeling I get when I read Melody’s note. Hell, just knowing that person that writes like Melody exists in this world, it makes me go meet her. I mean the essay was that good. I wanted to tell Sophia that.

I had already finished my last class for the day, so I had several hours before the meeting with Sophia. So I decided to go back home and clean myself up. I got out of my shorts and put on some nice khakis and put on a nice shirt and I even shaved. I fixed my hair and brushed my teeth and stopped myself before I put on cologne—It’s not like I’m going on a date, I told myself. Hell, I know nothing about this girl. But I thought, at least, I should look nice. Just in case. And even though I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, I was too nervous to feel any hunger so I didn’t even eat. It’s real dangerous for me not to eat every so often throughout the day, but I’ll tell you about that later. Anyway, it got to be around 7 PM, which is when we’d plan to meet, so I hopped on the bus to campus and made my way to Faraday Hall.

Here’s where I fucked up: When I changed into the khakis, I left my wallet in my shorts. I had my Student ID in the wallet and you can’t get into Faraday Hall without a Student ID because the gate locks itself at 6 PM. Well damn, I fucked myself. Seriously. So I sat on the benches outside Faraday Hall and thought about what to do. I started thinking, “It’s alright, she probably has a copy of her essay on her flash drive or something anyway.” Finally I felt some relief. I wasn’t so worried about meeting her anymore, and finally my hunger started to kick in. I was about to make my way back to the bus stop to go grab a sandwich when I saw this girl making her towards Faraday Gate. She was slim, she had long straight brown hair, and she was so pretty. I mean, wow, I felt time slow down for a second as I looked right into her dark brown eyes—I have this problem of making eye contact with everyone I walk by. But she had these cheeks that looked soft and round and had this cute nose and had these lips that made my heart stop. Wow wow wow. She was so damn gorgeous. She also had on this really nice white dress that made her brown skin glow even in the dim evening outside Faraday Hall. I felt warm. And on her dress was a little silver name tag and it read “Sophia De La Cruz.”

I said, “Hey, you’re Sophia, right?

She made a little grin. “Yes,” she said. “Are you Kazimir?”

That’s my name, by the way—Kazimir.  I know, it’s really weird but I’m sorta named after my grandfather. I’ll tell you about it later. Anyway, I laughed a little, it always makes me laugh to hear people say my name for the first time. Then I told her, “Yeah, but you can call me Kaz. I’ve got your paper here,” and handed it to her. She thanked me and all, she had such a sweet voice, soft and comforting. She made me feel comfortable, in a way. She smiled as she took back her paper—this almost killed me. It was so damn cute. I kept replaying that smile of hers in my memory for several weeks after that.

So this is were I fuck up. It’s been years since I’ve had a moment like this with a girl. After Melody, I didn’t talk to any girls or go on any dates or anything. So I didn’t know what to say to Sophia other than, “Hey, your paper was really good.” I sorta paused for a second, then with a slight stutter I said, “Uh, I’m sorry I read it, I just kinda got bored in class. I think it’s great, you’re a good writer.”

She kept smiling. “Thaaanks,” she giggled out. “I’m glad you liked it, Kaz.”

Then I froze. I mean like, I locked up. My brain couldn’t think of anymore words to say. I had to leave, I was gonna look stupid if I kept standing there without saying anything. So I looked into her eyes just one more time and then looked at the ground beneath her and said, “You’re welcome. I’ve got to go now or I’ll miss the bus.”

I started to turn around, but I made a quick glance at her face again. She looked a little confused but all she said was “bye” as I walked away.

That was all back in March. I haven’t seen or talked to Sophia since. But I thought about all that while I was sitting there on the couch. I got up and walked over to the bookshelf and pulled out The Stranger and took out the note Melody wrote for me. I read it again: “Don’t let your mistakes hold you back from greatness.” I felt so much damn regret. I really wish I could go back and say sorry for the way I treated her. I didn’t think I deserved to go back to university and feel some new love. But I slowly folded up the note and sorta stared at it for a little while. I took a deep breath again, placed it back in the book, and put it back in it’s place on the shelf.

I walked back to my room upstairs—it was close to midnight so I figured I had to go to bed soon. Listen, I guess I’m going back to the university after all, but I only have one good reason for going back: English class. I’m thinking, maybe I’ll see Sophia there.