The next afternoon I walked into Jack's dorm room to find it half empty. Jack was reclining on his bed, hands linked behind his head. "Danny ... relocated," he stated flatly.
"Why?"
"He wanted a different roommate, I guess."
I felt a tinge of anger. "Why?"
"Why? I don't know why. He just didn't like me. I tried to get along with the guy, but our personalities clashed for some reason."
"It's not as simple as that," I quietly challenged.
Jack sprung off the bed and put his arms around my waist. "Lilith, honey. Why does this bother you so much? It's actually a good thing. I have the whole room to myself now, until they stick me with someone else."
"Everyone likes you, Jack," I said. "But Danny looks at you like you raped his mother or something. Moving out of the dorm just to get away from you is a pretty drastic move."
Jack's face lost a bit of its glow. He stopped smiling.
"All I'm saying is, you did something," I continued. "Maybe unintentionally, I don't know. But there has to be a reason behind his hatred for you."
He shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. I have been nothing but kind to him since day one. I've tried to be his friend. I've tried talking to him. I always invite him whenever I go out with friends. He wants nothing to do with me. I just think he's an antisocial jerk, to be honest."
It was the first time I had ever heard Jack insult someone. The way he spoke about Danny, the way his eyes tremored slightly, suggested an imbalance in the way I percieved my boyfriend. His disposition, his outlook, his motives dimmed a little.
"All right, so someone doesn't like me," he said. "What do you want me to do, cry about it? Despite what you may think, I'm not some God-like celebrity that everyone loves and fawns over. Some people like me, some don't. Big deal."
My heart took on a new weight. I pretended to shrug it off and I spent the rest of the day with him in a feigned good mood. The fact that he couldn't detect, or could but didn't care about, the artificiality of my demeanor simply confounded my newfound sense of uncertainty.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
#1
I met Jack on a winter's day in early 2004.
My friend Ami and I attended a showing of a French film entitled Notebook, not to be confused with The Notebook, at the public library, and Jack was standing towards the corner, leaning against a bookcase.
I wouldn't have noticed him if not for the way his eyes glowed silvery green in the dim light of the room. Throughout the entire duration of the film he stood completely still, not even shifting his weight, and he kept glancing back and forth between the screen and me.
I couldn't really concentrate on the film knowing that I was being watched. Every action, from leaning over so Ami could whisper something into my ear, to brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes, was guided arbitrarily by self-consciousness. I felt unsettled and flattered.
After the film ended, without looking at him I walked straightforwardly out of the building into the frostbitten streets with Ami. I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned around and finally saw the entirety of his appearance in the bright off-white haze of mid-day February.
His eyes were bright evergreen, his skin tan and creamy, and his hair blonde and stylistically disheveled. He was of average height and possessed the feminine masculinity of a Greek statue. He smiled, and glimmering mysteriously said, "Hello. My name is Jack."
I shook his hand, we small-talked and exchanged numbers, Ami gave me a nod of envious congratulations as we walked away, and from that point on, Jack and I were a thing.
It turns out we went to the same college, and even lived in very close proximity to each other in the dorms, although I had never once seen him before the day at the library. He was majoring in Biochemistry and maintained a 3.9 GPA despite the fact that he never studied. He seemed to be one of those lucky individuals who didn't have to try at all to succeed.
His demeanor, casually cool and confidant, never prone to emotional outbursts or irrational impulses, made him a social star. He was kind to everyone and always in a good mood, and his broad general knowledge enabled him to hold engaging conversations with anyone who spoke to him. In a single afternoon, he first helped me to discover the meaning behind an e.e. cummings poem, then I watched him smoke pot and play Halo 2 with three greasy-haired stoners. After they left a Guatemalan exchange student dropped by and the two conversed in fluent Spanish for half an hour, and then Jack bid farewell to me with a kiss as he departed to play football.
The only person who disliked him, that I knew of, was his roommate Danny. He was bushy-haired with a pale pink face speckled with acne. His eyes were large and perpetually frightened like a deer caught in headlights. He seemed on edge every time I saw him, his voice quivered when he spoke, and he was always scowling at Jack. The two rarely spoke.
I figured that Danny was simply jealous, or maybe just an unpleasant person in general and didn't like anyone. But one evening Jack and I were playing videogames while Danny typed on his computer, and in one synchronized moment, their heads shot towards each other without any apparent trigger.
Danny stared wide-eyed in terrified rage at Jack, who bore no expression. I glanced back and forth between the two until Danny shot up from his seat and stomped out of the room without an explanation, slamming the door.
"What was that all about?" I asked.
"I think Danny has some mental problems. He seems to hate me, but I can't think of any reason why."
I replied with an "Oh" and the conversation ended right there, but I knew Jack wasn't telling the whole truth. Something had happened between them-- something big, I gathered, because there was an air of secrecy always hovering between them, and Jack seemed disturbed that night. His smiles and laughs were forced, and a couple times I caught him staring off into space.
It was the first time with Jack I felt that lead weight in my stomache so particular to relationship quandaries. Everything about him, specifically about him and I, up until that point seemed open and free and natural and honest. But now he was lying.
My friend Ami and I attended a showing of a French film entitled Notebook, not to be confused with The Notebook, at the public library, and Jack was standing towards the corner, leaning against a bookcase.
I wouldn't have noticed him if not for the way his eyes glowed silvery green in the dim light of the room. Throughout the entire duration of the film he stood completely still, not even shifting his weight, and he kept glancing back and forth between the screen and me.
I couldn't really concentrate on the film knowing that I was being watched. Every action, from leaning over so Ami could whisper something into my ear, to brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes, was guided arbitrarily by self-consciousness. I felt unsettled and flattered.
After the film ended, without looking at him I walked straightforwardly out of the building into the frostbitten streets with Ami. I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned around and finally saw the entirety of his appearance in the bright off-white haze of mid-day February.
His eyes were bright evergreen, his skin tan and creamy, and his hair blonde and stylistically disheveled. He was of average height and possessed the feminine masculinity of a Greek statue. He smiled, and glimmering mysteriously said, "Hello. My name is Jack."
I shook his hand, we small-talked and exchanged numbers, Ami gave me a nod of envious congratulations as we walked away, and from that point on, Jack and I were a thing.
It turns out we went to the same college, and even lived in very close proximity to each other in the dorms, although I had never once seen him before the day at the library. He was majoring in Biochemistry and maintained a 3.9 GPA despite the fact that he never studied. He seemed to be one of those lucky individuals who didn't have to try at all to succeed.
His demeanor, casually cool and confidant, never prone to emotional outbursts or irrational impulses, made him a social star. He was kind to everyone and always in a good mood, and his broad general knowledge enabled him to hold engaging conversations with anyone who spoke to him. In a single afternoon, he first helped me to discover the meaning behind an e.e. cummings poem, then I watched him smoke pot and play Halo 2 with three greasy-haired stoners. After they left a Guatemalan exchange student dropped by and the two conversed in fluent Spanish for half an hour, and then Jack bid farewell to me with a kiss as he departed to play football.
The only person who disliked him, that I knew of, was his roommate Danny. He was bushy-haired with a pale pink face speckled with acne. His eyes were large and perpetually frightened like a deer caught in headlights. He seemed on edge every time I saw him, his voice quivered when he spoke, and he was always scowling at Jack. The two rarely spoke.
I figured that Danny was simply jealous, or maybe just an unpleasant person in general and didn't like anyone. But one evening Jack and I were playing videogames while Danny typed on his computer, and in one synchronized moment, their heads shot towards each other without any apparent trigger.
Danny stared wide-eyed in terrified rage at Jack, who bore no expression. I glanced back and forth between the two until Danny shot up from his seat and stomped out of the room without an explanation, slamming the door.
"What was that all about?" I asked.
"I think Danny has some mental problems. He seems to hate me, but I can't think of any reason why."
I replied with an "Oh" and the conversation ended right there, but I knew Jack wasn't telling the whole truth. Something had happened between them-- something big, I gathered, because there was an air of secrecy always hovering between them, and Jack seemed disturbed that night. His smiles and laughs were forced, and a couple times I caught him staring off into space.
It was the first time with Jack I felt that lead weight in my stomache so particular to relationship quandaries. Everything about him, specifically about him and I, up until that point seemed open and free and natural and honest. But now he was lying.
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