Two Women And Two Unconverging Lines: Love Story of An Atheist
(Short Story No. 13)
Forward
I took awfully a long time to write this story. If I allow me to call myself a ‘writer’, I guess that I was experiencing a writer’s block. I spent over a month working on this story, but I could not finish it. I wrote a paragraph or two almost everyday, while I deleted a few. I spent a number of days editing, but I could not figure out exact wordings. I felt very confused. All these are not directly related to the narrative of the story, but I just want to share the background story.
Though I finished the first draft of this story, I am already contemplating about making several changes. One change that I have in mind is to make the main character female instead of male. It is rather odd that I tell readers that I am essentially not very satisfied with the first draft. I am not asserting that the first draft is terrible or unreadable; but I just want to open up and share how I feel about this first draft.
I am afraid that I rushed a little when I edited the last several pages. I also feel that I should have read this draft one more time and made minor changes here and there. However, as I briefly mentioned already, I have been having some difficulty writing not just this story but also any stories. I am not trying so hard to put this aside, but I feel it is best that I decide to wrap up this story as its first draft right now. I will get suggestions and feedback; I will also re-read this after I work on a different story. And then, I will work on a rewrite.
i. Email From His Mother
ii. Childhood: How His Mother Brought Him Up
iii. A Stranger At Java Jones
iv. Distancing Himself From His Mother
v. Seeing The Petite Girl With Glasses Again
vi. High School Years
vii. Invitation
viii. Presentable Look
ix. Mother And Son’s Relationship During College Years
x. Confrontation
xi. Mother And Son’s Relationship After College Years
xii. Graduation Party
xiii. Friendly Jessica
xiv. Mother And Son’s Relationship, Confirmation Of Separation
xv. What She Was
xvi. On Unrelationship
xvii. The Moment Of Truth
Short Stories (Fiction) | 23.11.2007 1:59 | No Comments
i. Email From His Mother
Momentarily, Jay Dobbs Youth lost the capacity to feel grateful, lighthearted, loved or cared, as he read the email that he just received from his mother. Disturbed, infuriated and exacerbated. He condemned himself for being affected as such, but he could not escape from being in the state of mind that he was in. When one feels anger, amygdalae, which are groups of neurons, act in such a way that his/her body’s muscles become tense. Catecholaminess, chemical compounds, are released inside his brain, and this causes to increase heart rates, raise blood pressure and increases the rate of breathing. The rapid release of additional brain neurotransmitters and adrenalines follow. Her writing felt as if to disrupt Jay D.’s peace and to prevent his conscious and subconscious from stopping overflowing these chemical compounds. The email read as follows:
“As a parent, I am genuinely concerned about your present situation and your future. I presume that there is a good reason why you decided to take a loan. But I wish that you had told me reasons why you needed to borrow money and how you got into such situation before you took the action. So that I could have made suggestions such as how you can take a loan at a low interest rate, how you should approach so that you could maintain a good credit score and how you can possibly avoid asking a loan. Was it absolutely necessary? Like your father, you seem to hesitate and resist telling me about your personal issues. As your mother, I’d like you to ask me to give you suggestions and advices.
That is what it means to be a parent. There is nothing shameful or wrong about asking people surrounding you to advise you. I encourage that you think once, twice and thrice and ask someone, someone else and yet another person before you make a decision. To be honest, after 57 years, I have difficulty following my own advice, but that is exactly why I encourage you to not hesitate to seek help when you need one.”
The tone of the writing itself seemed modest. The content also seemed rather reserved on the surface. Yet what he understood was otherwise. He was in a difficult financial situation. Given the average credit card debt in US, he did not have a tremendous amount of debt, but the amount worried him a lot because his venture had not come to fruition. Also he was in India; the debt was a tremendous amount in this country, and this and other problems made him feel like he had no promising future here.
About a year ago, he came to India; one of key reasons was to grow his business. He had a certain plan, but looking posteriorly, he felt that nothing went as planned. As a result, his revenue went down; his profit went down. Expenses only went up. He attempted to rectify the situation by starting new projects, but they all backfired. He initially found himself running out of cash. He then found himself just getting by. Finally, he found that he was in debt. He was not happy obviously. He felt tense and stressed. However, that was not what made him felt exceedingly upset now.
While his current financial situation was a major concern, it was his business problem after all. The survival rate of the new business in US was not great, although the survival rate of the new business in India was relatively high. Even subsisting ones often had many issues, typical one of which was the cash flow problem; that was essentially the predicament his business had. Ideally, any new startup, in particular, a small startup business should start operating using only the owner’s capital alone; the business should not take a loan though it is customary. Nonetheless, most startups including small business startups take loans. Since they do not generate sizeable revenues at the beginning, what pay off loans, that are cash, lacks; in other words, the cash flow typically becomes the major problem at the beginning of their operations. It was not that he could completely detach himself from the current business quandary. But at least he understood that it was a technical problem to be dealt with and the nuisance was very typical of a small business. His mother’s intervention was a different matter howbeit.
Her interference was a personal problem. As it was a personal matter, he was aggravated, and he could not employ his logic to gain the sense of normalcy. He could not analyze himself metaphysically and convince that he should be able to detach himself from the plague emotionally; this plague itself was an emotional one.
Several days ago, he received another email from his mother. In that, she told him she found out that he had a credit card debt; she expressed concern and asked why he got into such situation. He briefly explained the background while trying to not get vehement, but suppressing the emotional uproar was difficult. He kept credit cards for convenience; he also felt that he might need them later, which turned out to be the case. But he did not know if he could keep using the cards while he moved to India, so he used his parents’ address in Great Neck, New York for that. He still had a business presence on paper, but his business in US was a one-man operation; he used a business presence service to keep an address, but the service could not be used to receive personal mails. He had a few friends, but none seemed to continue keeping their addresses for many years; they were not very reliable in this regard. Besides, he felt slightly hesitant to ask this type of favor. He was not borrowing money from them, but he felt that any financial matters should not be asked as a favor if possible. Further, he did not extend his lease of his flat as he left New York City. It was too much money to be wasted if he would not be there. He thought about subleasing, but he felt slightly uncomfortable because he probably would not be able to go visit there to check periodically for some time. It was very possible that he would not be there at all for years. In the end, keeping the flat was not practical. It seemed that his parents were the only people whom he could ask to use their address just so that he could keep his personal credit cards. Subsequently, all personal credit card statements were sent to their address. According to his mother, she accidentally opened one of credit card statements and she found out about his debt.
An odd thought occurred to him though. He generally disliked the idea of fate, chance and luck, but he felt like his mother’s having found out about his credit card loan enabled her and him to have some communication. Also partly due to his mismanagement, he had not made a business credit card, and subsequently, when he desperately needed to borrow money, he ended up borrowing against one of his personal credit cards rather than borrowing against a business credit card, which would not have let his mother to find out about his financial situation. But he still did not feel like asking advices from her in the future. It was not exactly a matter of her intelligence, knowledge or sagacity. She was relatively well read, and he also felt that she had more real life experience than most people. But, somewhere, he felt a certain distance between them.
He disliked suspecting another possibility, but he could not help. Perchance, she did not accidentally open the letter from the credit card company; she just opened it intentionally. But even assuming that it was not the case, as he re-read everything she wrote, he found himself profoundly annoyed.
He had no scholastic interest in psychoanalysis, though he never disliked the academic subject. Even so, from time to time, he submerged himself into deep thoughts and attempted to analyze where he came from, who he was and what rose in his future. He often did this when there was a disturbance of negative thoughts; it was as if he suffocated from such solicitudes but tried so desperately to breath.
Apparently, Japanese women are awfully popular worldwide; his mother was Japanese. She was not a Japanese American; she was born and grew up there. He was not so convinced whether there are more men who adore the most common western idea of the beauty, the tall blonde hair, fair white skin, Swedish fashion model like woman than men who adore the petite almost fragile cute Japanese woman, but it is a statement of the fact that Japanese women have gained so much popularity over the last two or three decades. Not in a vulgar way, he found that they were not exactly his type. That did not mean that he loved that typical Swedish or Danish blonde, slender model like look; in fact, that was not exactly his type. He also certainly did not mean that he disliked Japanese women. But somewhere in his mind, he felt that having the company of a petite fragile cute East Asian girl did not give him immense satisfaction. Love, romance or whatever it is called or however it is expressed, whether it is an illusion or not, a figment of imagination or not, should be about two powerful forces colliding each other, one of which, he hoped, would be him. Does this have to be the ultimate definition of love or romance? No. But, he felt that that was the definition he embraced.
Mother is one of the most significant and influential persons in one’s life. Given, it is absolutely normal for him to have a very strong feeling toward her, both positive and negative. This was undoubtedly the case with Jay D. Subsequently, if the mother has a distinct cultural background such as being an Indian, Russian, French, Ethiopian or a Japanese, he develops a strong persuasion toward that culture and women of that culture. Jay indeed identified his mother as a woman of a distinct culture, Japanese. It is not uncommon that one speaks of his favoritism toward women of a certain culture. Some say that they favor platinum blond and blue eyes like Scandinavians, while others say that they favor darker completion. It is, however, uncommon that one speaks of disfavoritism as if it were an immortal sin. But following the logic that one develops very powerful persuasion and consciousness toward his mother, it should not be uncommon that he develops such feeling of perturbation if he has the mother of a distinct culture.
Jay did not dislike physical features resembling his mother. In fact, there were many Japanese women and East Asian women that he found very attractive physically. But he resented certain ideas that the culture represented.
He took a deep breath and gathered his thought. Why all of a sudden, did he start thinking about his mother’s cultural and ethnic background? There were a number of reasons, but the main reason was that, when he attempted to apply objectivity, he found that it was one of the most characteristic aspects of her. But regardless, one thing was clear; there was a chasm between him and his mother.
Several days before this intercommunication took place, incidentally, he was recalling his college days; he was reviving the memory of someone he had a crush on. Like many such matinees, the ending was not exactly a happy ending. He did not have a bitter memory though; it was a bittersweet memory. Over all, he had a fond memory from those days. There were sad days and difficult days, but interestingly, he could not recall painful, dreadful or despairing days as days that left unhealed wounds of mental torture and torment. As he recollected some supposedly agonizing days back then, he could only smile. And this one matinee was a big part of the beginning of his formative years. But having reestablished the remembrance of the affair in perspective, in the end, as far as its ending was concerned, he did not experience a fruitful ending, so to speak. That was not all; he felt as if he ought to acknowledge that it was a symbolic event in his life. He did not reach what he longed for or what he felt he longed for. When he recalled this affair again as he read his mother’s emails, he could not refrain from comparing two different distances. One distance existed because his mother’s affection toward him, motherly love, did not seem appreciable to him. The other distance existed because his infatuation toward a young college girl he met was a mismatch. ”Why is it that I have not met or do not meet someone with whom I can develop a meaningful, lasting and ever growing relationship?” He did not like being sentimental, but he had to ask this question.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 23.11.2007 1:52 | 2 Comments
ii. Childhood: How His Mother Brought Him Up
He was born in a middle upper class family. The term ‘middle upper class’ is an odd term, but it describes his family’s financial status more accurately than other terms. The financial status of the family would change in his mid 20s though. He basically had model parents. His father was busy working; he traveled regularly on business but he took time for his family also. His mother worked part time at his company, but he remembered that he spent a lot of time with her. In addition to summer vacations and winter vacations, his mother took him and his sister to go visit her mother’s side family in California. He had a fond memory of that. He was put into a swimming club as soon as he got old enough to be able to learn how to swim. He was 4 or 5 years old when he started. His mother drove him to the swimming club and picked him up. He seemed to remember that there was not a day that he went there alone or with another adult caretaker. Later on, he was put into Boy Scout. Like many children, he occasionally wanted to eat fast food; his mother took him there not frequently but occasionally to satisfy him. But, more often, his parents took him, his little sister and his grandparents who lived with them to fairly expensive restaurants. Later on, this helped him to develop cultivated taste in food. There were a number of fine restaurants in Great Neck, but his family spent many weekends, half day and weekday evenings in the city and they typically dined out at upscale restaurants. He did not turn out to be one of those who complained that coffee tasted like dirt and drank sweet sodas and preferred to eat fast food than exquisite meals served at recherché restaurants. He appreciated that he did not turn out to be a, what he called, ‘American peasant’ who was incapable of understanding that Americans’ sweet tooth was largely a product of sugar saturated food market and that they were simply addicted to fast food and other types of similar food products rather than being able to appreciate fine cuisines. At the same time, he did not turn out to be a spoiled child who never cooked or washed dishes. He knew how to cook; he did not mind washing dishes. Retrospectively speaking, he could hardly find faults in his parent’s parenting.
As a child, he was attached to his mother. Not uncommon, but he recalled that he was much more attached to her than most of his friends and acquaintances. He did not have memories of those who were remotely close to him compared to how close he was to his mother. Retrospectively speaking, there was no question of how strong the bond between the two was; two were almost inseparable. But as he was about to enter junior high school, the divide between two were being created. Diminutive and almost unrecognizable divide at the beginning, but as time passed, he was taking farther and father distance from his mother.
—– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —–
Ten years later, he met a girl. She was a stranger and there was no prior relationship between him and her. But, as time passed, he was being more and more attracted to and attached to her. Contrary to the development of the relationship that he had with his mother.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 23.11.2007 1:51 | No Comments
iii. A Stranger At Java Jones
”Do you mind if I sit here?” a petite blond girl asked him. He answered, “Sure.” The coffeehouse, where he met her, was the most popular hangout in this small college town located just outside the campus. Every evening, the place was packed; even during the daytime when students took classes, there was a good crowd. So, it was nothing unusual that a few strangers shared a same table. But, this stranger apparently had a purpose. Shortly after she took the chair on the opposite side of his table, she struck a conversation, “Whenever I come here, I see you.”
”Yes, I’m here everyday,” smiled he rather awkwardly and answered. The conversation unfolded from there.
—– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —–
This was the girl that he was going to have a crush on. This was when he was in junior year in college. Ten year ago.
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He found out that the girl’s name was Jessica; she majored in Sociology and she was working on her thesis. He did not find out exactly how old she was or what year in college she was in. But she must have been either in her junior year or senior year given that she was working on her thesis. And if that was the case, he guessed that she was 21 or 22 years old. It turned out that the thesis was about the phenomenal of the ‘hangout’ coffeehouse found nearby every college. That was where students hanged out; that was where they met people, studied and discussed about every aspect of their lives such as their future, politics, love interests, sex life, music, art, literature, beers and other alcohol beverages, films, friends, gossips and ideas. She needed to focus on a very specific subject; he became the subject, as he was one of those who came to this coffeehouse every single day. She apparently already decided that before she came here tonight and she found him as expected.
Initially, he felt rather awkward because the stranger suddenly approached him and started asking a myriad of questions. But, as he opened up and started talking with her, he found the affecting feeling. He was acquainted with some of regulars at the hangout, but he basically had only two friends, Jakob and Radley. Both hanged out at this coffeehouse and this was exactly where they met. The truth of the matter was that they all loved this place, though they hanged out here as if there were no other places to go; perhaps, somewhere in their minds, they felt like they had to be out there partying in order to become qualified college students. But, after all, routines became a little tired and mundane after a while. And suddenly, this girl appeared from nowhere. Strange avocation actually. He was here almost everyday, so if she came here occasionally, he must have seen her before but he did not recollect her face. Maybe his eyes subconsciously erased the memory of hers for he believed that she were a total stranger and would remain so. It was not that he had an ugly face, a disability or mental deficiency; he was a little insecure partly because he just moved here a couple of months ago howbeit. But here she was. Rather cute, fun, and cheerful; conventionally speaking, those with great intellect were often rather depressed and gloomy, but she possessed the look of a young intellect while she had a positive aura.
This was just an ordinary coffeehouse, but all of a sudden, the place felt like the house of enlightenment or the holy temple. Perhaps not a great cathedral but a small pretty church. Not a magnificent template, every piece of whose surface was decorated with an intricate design, but one of a modest size permeating the atmosphere of endearment. The coffeehouse was no longer a square box; it had the atmosphere of a fantasy world. At the end of the evening, he was keen on this girl. Rather predictably, he would fall in love with her. The beginning of this story was a cliché; the thought of her would not escape him in the coming months. But also, rather predictably, this would become a bittersweet memory of his. This would not become the most simplistic heartbreak story though. This would also become a story of his understanding the world surrounding him. But looking back, he would discover that this whole affair was more than that; there was another layer in the story, which was that he would keep falling for women that he would never establish romantic relationships with.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 23.11.2007 1:51 | No Comments
iv. Distancing Himself From His Mother
As he entered junior high school, he was a model student. Though he was not very keen on sports and was not an A student in P.E. (Physical Education) class as a result, he was studious; he did well in all subjects. He was not exactly one of those who wanted to sell their names by being class presidents and members of the student association; in fact, he generally disliked the idea of politics. He found that it was fundamentally corrupt; in fact, he held the same belief even to this day. He did not cause any trouble in school or outside. No pickpocketing, no smoking, no drinking, no drugs. He did not recall hanging out in downtown even, nor did he venture out to the city. He spent much time in school, in tutoring schools and at home. Somewhat introverted and he spent a lot of time indoors, but he did not spend a lot of time playing video games a lot. He did play occasionally but certainly not as much as others. So, basically, with the exception of socializing and politicking, he was a model early teenager, one of those teenagers whose parents rarely worried about.
But at the same time, he started discovering the world of his own in this period. Though he took studying seriously, it was for his own benefit; it was not exactly to please his mother or father. He certainly understood that they wanted to see him do well in school, and that was in his conscious as he tried to obtain as high scores as he could on all tests, but he had his own goal. He wanted to become a scholar. He was interested in pure science, and eventually, he began having a rather concrete idea of wanting to become a mathematician. He pursued a different career in his later years, but the significance was that his self-interest started becoming more and more important. There was no major conflict between him and his mother, but, as he recalled, his affection toward his mother started fading away; he did not feel much attachment to her at this point.
—– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —–
The progression of the diminishment of his endearment toward his mother was quite contrary to that of his emotion toward Jessica, the petite girl with glasses. She was just a stranger when he met her for the first time, but she was always in his mind after the encounter. Some say that there is no such thing as love; it is just a chemical reaction. He did not disagree with the idea; however, the fact of the matter was that the reaction was taking place. He desired to become closer to Jessica. He lacked understanding of the development of a romantic relationship as he was not very experienced, and therefore, he did not have a concrete idea of how he could approach her or observe her reactions, but his longing was strong.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 23.11.2007 1:51 | No Comments
v. Seeing The Petite Girl With Glasses Again
A week after the encounter, he was sitting at the same coffee shop with Jakob. He was a good friend, but he was one of those who always struck a conversation with every female stranger as long as her look was above average; and he was casual and consistent. Positive way to describe him was that he was extraverted and social. Rather negative way to describe him was that he was always after targets, i.e., women between eighteen and thirty who had above-average looks. So, when Jessica showed up again this evening, Jakob was his usual. Shortly after Jay D. and Jessica exchanged a few words and talked about her research paper, Jakob took over the conversation.
Jakob was rather casual; Jay could see that Jakob was not exactly attracted to her or trying to pick a date with her. But, Jay had difficult time overhearing the conversation and overseeing the interaction between two. With that irritation, he was being more and more attracted to her. In part, his behavior followed the old saying ‘Love is blind.’ And perhaps he was blind.
—– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —–
As he looked back that evening, he realized that nothing so special happened that day. But he did remember the day because the presence of Jessica suddenly became so significant. This was also a contrast found between his relationship with his mother and his emotional attachment to Jessica.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 23.11.2007 1:50 | No Comments
vi. High School Years
When Jay D. bethought about his high school years, he reminisced the color gray. It was absolutely colorless and arid three years. This was when he started becoming anti-social rapidly. This was also when he started feeling so distanced from his mother. He almost felt betrayed. Intrinsically, what he found was the world of conventions and compliances. He went to one of those high schools what most students eventually went to prestigious universities. He did not find it disgusting, but he disliked the tone of the voice his classmates had. They all essentially talked about following conventions and complying with the rest. They basically talked about ‘fitting in’, and that, to him, was unthinkable. That is not to say that 16 years old ought to take drugs. That is not to say that 17 years old ought to sleep with 10 or 20 other 17 years old. That is not to say that 18 years old ought to drink, smoke and party. But they ought to feel that there is something wrong with the world that exists. SUV polluting the environment. Corrupt politicians. As the old saying suggests , those who can’t do, teach. Uniform. Customs and rituals that do not mean anything logical in today’s world. Maybe drug dealers. Police. Bullies, incompetents, socialists and libertarians. The fact that they have been told to go to reputable universities and become lawyers, doctors or become corporate executives all the time. How can life be like that? There ought to be more but the society that exists does not seem to tell them that life ought to be in that way. 16 years old and 17 years old ought to feel angry; they ought to feel that the world that surrounds them is antagonistic. But his classmates apparently asserted otherwise; it was inconceivable, and that fueled his anger. However, he was supposedly in this place for his benefits, according to his mother. This created his feeling of resentment toward his mother. It felt that his life up to this point appeared to be a kind of setup. It seemed that whatever his mother did was betrayal.
—– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —– —–
Looking back now, he realized that it was not betrayal. He also realized that she was a good mother and that she tried to provide her best to him. But the fact reminded him that there was a recognizable distance between him and his mother back then already, and the distance only grew in the coming years.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 23.11.2007 1:50 | No Comments
vii. Invitation
After Jay D. met Jessica for the second time, he felt it a confirmation that she would become a person of certain significance in his life. Shortly after he met her for the first time, in his idol time, her face appeared in his mind from time to time, but he could not foresee that he would meet her again. But he did, and he felt a certain destiny. Though he was not a strong believer of religious or spiritual ideas such as fate and destiny, he conveniently made an exception in this case. He contemplated about her face, voice and body language day after day. If he were to pick up a magazine and pick up his favorite model, then he would apply a certain standard. Hairstyle, eye color, eyebrow, surface of skin, curvature of nose and texture of lips. Some men always stuck to their ideal representations of women; whereas, others fall for the unconventional in their minds mysteriously. The latter was the case in this particular instance. He was not particularly fond of blond women; he reckoned that blond being equated to beauty was just a myth. He also believed that it was a US – Euro central viewpoint skewed by their politics and that he did not wish to swallow the idea without careful examination and analysis. He was not interested in short women, either. Though he was not very tall, he preferred women of the average height or slightly above.
He found many aspects of her personality appealing though. Her parents were originally from Russia, and because of that, she still had many relatives there. She also visited the country quite a few times. This made her semi-multicultural and he found it very appealing. This almost sounds cliché, but she was conversant in Russian literature; she apparently only read translations though. One of his favorite novels was ‘Crime and Punishment’ written by Dostoevsky, and it was one of her favorite novels as well. She said that she had been mulling over the idea of spending a year or two in Russia to do her graduate study. This also appealed to him; he found her eagerness to open her horizon and develop her perspective in a foreign land very captivating.
But, given all reasons, he might have been trapped in his imagination of perfection created by his blind love. The degree to which he fell for her was inexplicable or much of his obsession was a result of blind love.
While he kept thinking about her at Java Jones, she appeared in front of him. ‘Let there be light’. He suddenly felt as if he were taken to the Galerie des Glaces - The Hall of Mirrors, though he had never been there before. His neuropsychological system registered the image in his mind; he practically saw the majestic hall. The image projected in his mind was almost comical, yet it was a serious matter to him. He did not recall much of the conversation that took place this evening. But he was invited to her birthday party; he clearly remembered that. She made a very cute card and handed it to him; the place, the date and the time, which the party was going to be held, was on the card.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 23.11.2007 1:49 | No Comments
viii. Presentable Look
This was the day. He wore a sky blue shirt, pressed, a navy blue blazer, black jeans, black socks and shoes. He certainly would not call himself ‘dapper’, but he could call it a ‘presentable look.’ He did not just pick these clothes today, but he rehearsed at the coffeehouse several days ago. He asked a coffeehouse friend, Radley, to review how he dressed; he got his approval. This was actually a semi-formal look, but given how students dressed, he looked very formal. He also bought a bouquet. Red roses, of course.
He arrived at Jessica ’s place, where the party was, a little earlier than the time written on the invitation card. He was greeted by Kate, her roommate. Jessica was getting dressed, so he did not see her right away. Besides two, there was only one more guest at the house; she was Kate’s friend. Since the party was not going to start any minute, he just sat there and waited. After ten minutes or so, Jessica showed up, and as he passed roses to her, she smiled, looked very happy and gave him a hug. He reacted so awkwardly though. Basically, for the rest of the night, he was awkward and uncoordinated.
It was a pleasant party. Several guests were there. Drinks and food were served. Music was fun to listen to though he was too familiar with the type of music played. But there was a strange moment. Jessica and her roommate Kate were hugging, petting and staying very close. At one point, they were taking pictures, and in one picture, they pressed their lips together and paused.
The image of Jessica’s kissing her roommate stuck to his mind. By now, he visited more than a few gay bars where gays and lesbians rather openly showed their affections. Also though he did not spend much time hanging out in New York City in his teenager years, he had been there a number of times; he lived in a community less than an hour of train ride after all. He had been to Chelsea district in the city and it was one of the largest gay and lesbian communities. So, he had seen gays and lesbians. Thereupon, the sight of her kissing her female friend was not kissing of two women that he saw for the first time in his life. Yet, the image of this particular girl’s kissing stuck in his mind. But interestingly, he never asked himself if she was lesbian or not, nor did he assume that she was indeed one. Oddly or tragically, he was falling in love with this girl who would categorically not be in love with another man. But as the old saying goes, ‘Love is blind’. Or perhaps, more accurately in this instance, ‘Crush is blind’. He was blind.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 23.11.2007 1:49 | 1 Comment
ix. Mother And Son’s Relationship During College Years
In his senior year in high school, he applied to universities in the west coast. He had been pondering about going to a university far from his home. After he sent out a number of applications and was accepted to many of universities applied to, he decided to go to a university in California; this would clearly define the distance between him and his mother. Once he moved to California, there was a communication still, but the distance between the west coast and the east coast was significant. This was quite contrary to how he was falling for Jessica. Ideating about Jessica was natural; that was practically everything he contemplated about.
Short Stories (Fiction) | 23.11.2007 1:48 | No Comments