A FEW YEARS AGO
When I saw them, my heart immediately went ablaze, and in one of my most expected fight or flight responses, I hid behind the wall. When Faith told me a new friend of hers would join us for lunch, I expected it to be someone from the public relations department, since that's what she's majoring in and never ceases to talk about the wonders of it. I never thought it would be the one person I desired to see the most yet at the same time always ran away from.
I should have kept my mouth shut. It's typical of Faith to jump the gun like that. She caught me off guard that one time I was staring at him from afar, so I blurted out everything. Yes, I have a crush; no, I barely know him, we're just in the same criminology class together; yes, we've spoken but we're not friends. Jeremy Fahey. Bane of my existence yet the only ray of sunshine in this bleak universe called college life.
I've never been great at making friends, that's a given. And my fight or flight response is heavily unbalanced towards flight. So, when cute and nice Jeremy started talking to me in class, I went from zero to awkward real fast. No wonder he hasn't spoken to me since. That's why more than a crush, this is just the ludicrous product of a creative mind that's been overworking. That or, delayed adolescent idiocy. Maybe both, who knows. The fact remains, Jeremy is my kryptonite, and my alleged best friend was just about to ambush me with it.
I shouldn't have been much surprised, though. Ever since I told her about him, Faith has been dead set on pushing me into talking to him, claiming I ought to at least try. But why?
You never know, if you never try, she says. I don't need to try, because I already know, I say. It's not rocket science anyway. If he wanted to talk to me, he would have, instead he just glances at me now and then, probably wondering whether I'm just awkward or crazy-awkward. Then again, he wouldn't be that wrong in deeming me crazy, because it wasn't so hard to memorize his schedule.
Don't get me wrong, it wasn't just so I could hide behind a wall and stare at him with hearty eyes, no. It was more self-preservation: one of the basic rules of war according to Sun Tzu is, know your enemy. Some random cute guy that melts your insides at every smile and makes you feel like the world might actually be a better place only because he's in it, is indeed your enemy.
I have plans and ambitions, and I will realize them. Love life isn't contemplated in these projects, at least not until my career situation is stable. Not to mention the fact that Jeremy is way too cute for me. Just look at him, friendly and nice to talk to, while I'm a walking disaster that can barely utter a few words altogether unless it's for an exam. That's actually the funny part: in exams, be it written or oral, I shine, but in casual conversations? I don't even know where to start.
However, I'll admit that seeing Jeremy talk so amiably with Faith did make me a little bit ... jealous. No, it's not sane to be jealous when the person isn't even your friend, let alone boyfriend, yet I did feel that awful pang to my heart. Faith is a knockout, no doubt about that, any guy would be lucky to be with her.
Sighing, I dropped back against the wall, hidden from their sight. Not all of us can afford to be romantic, Charlotte Lucas came to my mind. Well, her movie version, to which the quote belongs.
But I've always been Charlotte Lucas. I love Pride and Prejudice to bits, but I was never Lizzie. I was always halfway between her sister Mary (who many often forget) and her best friend Charlotte. You know, those wallflowers that are well aware nothing too exciting is going to come her way, romantically speaking, so they just set their eyes on a reachable horizon. Well, I wouldn't marry Mr. Collins, not even I am that desperate, but you get the point.
The dangers of being a reader involve this, too, you know. Setting your expectations too high, which inevitably results in scorching disappointments. So why set myself up for failure by looking for a Mr. Darcy, when I know full well my choice is between Mr. Collins and the celibate that presumably ended up being Mary Bennet's life?
My phone vibrated in my pocket, so I immediately grabbed it, even though I knew full well who it was.
Faith: where are you?? I'm starving!
I sighed once again. There's no chance I'm joining this awkward lunch, especially because I am 100% sure that Faith will have to suddenly leave with who knows what excuse. I don't get why she's so determined to get me a boyfriend. According to her, I need to be non-virgin before the end of this year, otherwise it'll mean I'll have wasted the best years of my life. College is a time for explorations, she says, it doesn't matter if it's male or female, I need to get a move, she claims. As if it were of vital importance, which it isn't. Career first.
Me to Faith: I'm sorry, I ran into a problem. I'll see you after class.
I could distinctly hear her huff: "Ugh, this girl ..."
"What is it?" Jeremy asked, seemingly confused.
"It's that-"
Right then and there a group of loud freshmen passed by, laughing and chatting, so I couldn't hear what Faith said. As I watched them walk away, heading to the cafeteria, I sighed heavily. Maybe one day I'll get over myself, but not today.
--
TODAY
Taking a deep breath, I dared look up to meet that chestnut brown tousled hair, those vivid green eyes I used to dream of so often, that handsome face that used to make me as nervous as ever ... all I could utter was: "How ... are you?"
"I'm great!" He smiled up to his eyes, as if he was as happy as he'd never been before. "What a funny old world! I had no idea you were still here!" Was he actually excited to see me? Nah, that can't be.
I forced my lips to curve into a tiny, polite albeit ashamed smile. "Yeah, I ..." would rather be destitute in New York than go insane back home?
"You guys know each other?" Luckily Michelle butted in, saving me from embarrassment. My heart was pounding.
"Yeah, NYU." Jeremy answered. "We went to the same Criminology class."
Michelle tilted her head in surprise, looking at me. "Criminology? I thought you were a journalist."
"Not exactly, but ..." How to tell cops that you have a creepily dark interest in serial killers and everything that has to do with heinous crimes?
"Miss?"
Oh, thank God. Some clients have a perfect timing. "Excuse me." I murmured, then went to take care of the customer that had called me. He just needed a refill of his coffee, but I managed to take as much time as I possibly could. Once done, I thought I could sneak away into the kitchen, but Michelle called me back.
"You could have been a cop!" She exclaimed when I reached them.
"Well ..."
"Fahey says you were top of the class!" She continued, excited, as if thinking I missed out on a huge chance.
I never wanted to be a cop, or law enforcement in general. I just followed that Criminology class because I needed an elective and I'm a fan of the thriller genre. It was interesting and it led me to writing some short stories that are still tucked away in some directory in my laptop. For a while I actually fancied being a thriller author, but it faded away pretty quick, as my passions usually do.
"No, not really ..." I murmured in response, pretending the counter needed a thorough cleaning so that I didn't have to look up while speaking. "Jeremy was."
He chuckled. "You always got better grades, though."
"Only in written exams." I smiled to myself, remembering the old days. Criminology was one of my favorite classes, that's true. Sure, at first I got distracted staring at Jeremy from afar, kind of daydreaming, but when I realized it was gonna be a problem for my grades, I started sitting in the front row. It didn't help entirely, because Jeremy did the same, sitting just a few seats away from me, but that way it was also easier to keep focus.
"She kept me on my toes." Jeremy laughed, serving himself and Michelle the coffee I'd left on the counter while I was pretending to count the sugar bags. "I've always been competitive in school, and finding someone that passed me, it was a challenge."
I couldn't help but smile, remembering how Jeremy sometimes joked with me, pretending to steal my notes so that he could beat me at least once. I was never outspoken in class, I've always been the quiet one that gets things done without ever asking for help.
"I shouldn't be surprised anyway," Jeremy went on, for some reason beaming, "she graduated among the first of our year."
"Oh, a proper Rory Gilmore, I see." Michelle grinned.
I was dreading the question that followed. It usually happens when my academic successes are exposed, people stop and ask: then what happened? Meaning, how could you fall so low as to end up working at a filthy diner?
"So, what have you been up to?" There you go. Different form, same dilemma. How did someone that graduated top 5 in her class at NYU, end up scrubbing toilets? Where did all those dreams of either writing for a big paper like The New York Times, or editing manuscripts for Harper & Row just like Skeeter Pheelan? In the trash. That's the correct answer. In the trash.
"Joanna?" Jeremy called, clear sign I'd started spacing out, losing myself in my self-pity and self-hatred.
I will admit that my heart skipped a beat when he said my name. It's been a few years, but Jeremy was, without a doubt, the biggest crush I've ever had. "Uh ... not much, really." I murmured, without looking at him. By now that same spot on the counter was more than clean, it was becoming translucent. I cleared my throat, awkwardly asking: "I ... didn't know you wanted to be a cop?"
"He doesn't." Michelle butted in, making him laugh.
"I failed the firefighter exam, so ..."
"New York's Bravest didn't want him, so he joined New York's Finest. Better choice, if you ask me, but His Highness here doesn't like it." Michelle scoffed, pretending to be mad.
Jeremy smiled, a little embarrassed. "Well, I do like it, but ... it's a demanding job."
"And firefighter isn't?!" Michelle's voice was a little high-pitched.
Jeremy rolled his eyes, as if they'd had that same discussion many times already, then he turned back to me. "Honestly, Joanna?" He shrugged, and his candor took me off guard, "I come from a pretty long list of failures, so when a friend told me NYPD was hiring, I thought why not. I only have that criminology course, to make a career in the police force you need better than that, but I guess for now ..."
"As if." Michelle scoffed. "Once NYPD, always NYPD." She claimed proudly.
They went on bantering like old friends. It was a sweet scene, there seemed to be some sort of master/student relationship between them, or even mother/son, given the difference in age, but it looked comfortable, which I wouldn't have expected it, as annoyed as Michelle sounded when she said her rookie was with her.
--
At 2 am, the last customer left, and I finally headed to the door, to lock it and start cleaning up. It was a surprisingly easy shift. Michelle and Jeremy didn't stay long, they had to get on with their own shift, but the little they remained, it was pleasant, albeit awkward and embarrassing for me. It's sheer luck that Michelle was there as buffer between me and Jeremy, otherwise I'm not sure I'd have been able to really talk to him.
We were never friends. Sure, Faith tried many, many times to ambush me into a lunch or a dinner or a party just so I could remain alone with him, but I never budged, and finally when she started dating regularly, she forgot about my love life to focus on her. Funny enough, she almost got married with that guy, but it didn't work out in the end.
The most Jeremy and I exchanged were a few words here and there during the only class we had together. That's why I'm amazed he even remembered me. Of course, I remembered him all too clearly. How could I not? He was my torment and delight for a couple of years. Yeah, my crush lasted that long. Probably even more than a couple of years, but I didn't see him again after we graduated. I never had the courage to accept his friend request on Facebook. I never thought I'd meet him again, but despite the awkwardness and the fact that my heart was still in a state halfway between ecstatic and dismayed, I was happy to see him.
Jeremy is one of biggest regrets, I don't deny that either. If only I'd been any braver, I'd have at least cultivated a friendship with him, but ... it went how it went, nothing to be done now.
Once I'd locked the front door, I started cleaning up the tables that had been occupied until now. If every night shift is like this, I should pretend with Scott that I'm more unhappy than usual, that way he might remain convinced it's a punishment. Sure, Brooklyn is a little scary this late at night, but I'd rather get shot in a dark alley Mr. and Mrs. Wayne style than put up with Scott's bullshit and abuse during the day.
The cook went home an hour ago, so I was completely, totally alone. Of course, Scott made sure to call me by midnight to tell me I ought to give the kitchen and the bathrooms a thorough cleanse after closing, which meant I would remain until dawn at least, but again, I didn't mind. I turned the TV on, to have some company, but as much as I enjoy a good true crime show, maybe watching it while I was all alone in a diner in the middle of the night, wasn't a good idea. So, I switched to radio, keeping the volume low on the classics channel. Michael Jackson's voice started immediately filling the silence. I'm not much into pop, but he's one of my favorite singers, so it was difficult not to start dancing like I do at home, but I did start humming to The way you make me feel while moving my hips a little bit.
I was so into it that I literally jumped, scared, when the song ended and I heard someone clapping outside. The shutter was only halfway down, damnit. My heart thumping as fast as if I'd run a marathon across the entire city of New York, my faced as red as the juiciest tomato, I remained there frozen, staring at a grinning Jeremy, who was giving me thumbs up. I couldn't pretend I didn't see him, could I? But talking to him now, after this ...
I swallowed my saliva when he gestured for me to open for a minute. It's almost as if after all the times I ran away from him years ago, he finally learned the trick: trap her, don't give her any chance nor route to escape. Flushed and flustered, I went to the door, and opened the shutter first, then unlocked the door itself.
"I didn't know you could sing!" He exclaimed, excited, as he took a couple of steps into the diner.
"I don't." I let out inadvertently.
"Are you kidding? You were awesome."
"Y-You heard me?" Shit.
"Yeah. I mean, it's a glass door, after all, and the shutter was only halfway down." He chuckled.
Great. So much time spent evading him not to make a fool of myself, and here I was, seven years later, making that same mistake I worked so hard against. "Oh." Was all I could say.
"You have a nice voice, I never knew."
"Thanks ..."
There was some noise on his police scanner, to which he listened closely; after having concluded that the call wasn't for him, he turned back to me, apologizing. "So, Joanna, uh ..." he seemed flustered, "I'm glad we met again," he smiled, although a little embarrassed.
"Me too." I let slip. Clearly the fumes of the products I was using to clean up this dumpster did something to me, I wasn't thinking straight. The only thing that kept resonating in my head was the shame I felt for having been seen dancing and singing like that, by a guy I hadn't seen in years and that time ago I would have even said was my one and only. Idiotic, I know.
However, my simple answer seemed to encourage Jeremy, because his smile became wider, and his voice became more steady. "So, uh ... well, I forgot earlier, but I thought ... maybe we shouldn't let another 7 years pass?" I gulped inaudibly, my heart skipping a few beats. What was he aiming for? "I thought I'd befriend you on Facebook or follow you on Instagram, but I don't use any of those anymore."
"Me neither."
He nodded. "Yeah, so ... old fashioned phone number?" He let out an awkward laugh as he scratched the back of his hair. "I mean uh ... your?" Seeing me befuddled, Jeremy let out a heavy sigh. "Sorry. I swear, I've done this before."
"Done ... what?" I asked, uncertain.
"Ask a girl out." Another nervous laugh. "I ... I have, I swear I have." He rolled his eyes to himself. "Nice one, Jeremy, you sound desperate."
I had no idea what was going on, it felt like an extra-body experience. For a moment, I actually thought I was dreaming; or that that wasn't the real Jeremy, just some lookalike.
He took a deep breath, a hand over his heart, the same way I used to when I needed to calm it down after having come face to face with him years ago. "I'm just saying ..." the scanner interrupted him again, and this time it was indeed for him: Michelle telling him to get back to work. "Ugh, shit." He ruffled his hair, disgruntled. "Uh ... when do you go home?"
I blinked my eyes, surprised, and he slapped a hand over his face, cursing himself again. "Jesus, Jeremy." Then back to me: "I meant, when do you get off work?"
"I'm ... when I'm finished cleaning."
"Will that be ..." he took a look at his watch, "anywhere near 7 am?"
"Uh ..." I glanced at the watch hanging on the wall on the left â it was already 4 am, what the hell! â "yeah, probably ..." I wasted too much time dancing and singing, still had kitchen and bathrooms to clean."
"Great!" When he noticed my puzzled and mildly scared look, he let out a nervous laugh, once again tormenting his tousled hair. "Can we ... have breakfast together?" I think my heart nearly jumped out of my throat. "It's not a date!" He hastily pointed out. "Just uh ... to catch up?" He laughed nervously again, "talk some criminology like the old days?"
No. No, no, no, no, no ... us alone, talking, not a good idea, terrible, awful, absurd idea. No, no, no ... "yes." Ugh.
"Great! I'll drop by around that time then." And like that, he left. Jeremy went back to his patrol, leaving me with my heart ablaze, my insides churning, and such an emotional, psychological and physical tiredness that I slid to the floor, unable to believe what I just did. Am I insane? It's going to be a disaster, I know it.