To call her or not to call her. I stared at Emma’s number, walking back to my dorm after work. I hadn’t given her my number but during poetry night, she had insisted that she put her number in my phone, in case I needed anything. I still couldn’t decide what to make of poetry night which had been four nights ago. I hadn’t seen her around the campus and I hadn’t called her, although a few times I’d stopped myself short of texting her. I knew it was because I was lonely and wanted someone to talk to.
Poetry night hadn’t left me disappointed. I had been inspired but not to study as I had wanted. As soon as I arrived at my dorm that night, I’d sat at the computer and typed up a five-page document about how I felt about Marilyn. I poured out my feelings for her in what I had later formatted as a letter, reminding her of all the things we had done together, how we had helped each other through the latter part of high school. I had hopes for the letter and had sent it off to her in email before I had time to think about it twice.
Whatever I had hoped to achieve with that letter was a bust. Marilyn didn’t even respond. Her lack of care hit me hard but I was trying to wade through it. I could hardly do anything about it if she didn’t love me anymore, even when her giving me the cold shoulder hurt.
I fiddled in my pocket for the tickets I’d received at work for the soccer game later this evening. My boss had given them to me as employer of the month, along with the usual bonus. I didn’t want to go to the game alone and I would have thought to throw the tickets away but for some reason Emma, her quirkiness and her annoying smile crossed my mind. I didn’t even know if she liked football but was contemplating calling her up and asking her to go with me.
“What can it hurt?” I muttered before punching her name. At the first ring, I was startled into thinking, just what the heck was I doing? I promptly ended the call and quickened my steps to reach my dorm room. I would see if anyone on dorm was interested in going and give away the tickets.
My phone vibrated in my hand, since I hadn’t deactivated it from the mode I kept it in, when I was at work.
“Crap.” I stared at Emma’s name and contemplated disconnecting the call but decided against it. She was the only one I knew right now who didn’t mind my odious presence and my black mood. God only knew why but, she seemed to have taken me up as a cause- to bring me to the light of happiness and away from my darkness.
“Hello,” I answered the call.
“Travis?” she asked in uncertainty.
“Uh-um yes,” I croaked, cleared my voice and tried again. “Yes, it’s Travis.”
“Why’d you hang up so quickly?”
Because I’m a coward. “It was an accident,” I lied.
“Oh, okay then.”
I could hear the disappointment in her voice. I rushed to clarify, “Calling you wasn’t the accident. Hanging up was.”
“Oh?” She still sounded unsure.
“I was wondering if you’re free later and would like to go to the soccer game?” I said on a rush before I got anymore cold-feet and lost the courage to ask.
“Yes, of course I’ll go with you!” she exclaimed and I could hear her smile.
“Um, uh just so you’re clear,” I said hesitantly. “Um, this isn’t- I mean we’re not-uh.” I was stumbling over my words to convey that although we were going to the game, it didn’t mean anything.
She laughed. “I know it’s not a date silly. We’re just friends. Where do you want us to meet?”
“How about that spot where we first met on campus?” I suggested. “The game starts at seven and we can walk over to Championship Field together.”
“That sounds great,” she agreed. “I’ll see you then.”
“Great.”
I should have hung up but for some reason I didn’t and she didn’t either. Then it felt awkward for me to hang up without saying anything else but, I didn’t know what to say anyway.
“Travis, thanks for asking me,” she said softly, then hung up.
I continued to my dorm room, wondering if this had just moved to the awkward territory of a date. I refuted this in my thoughts because Emma wasn’t even my type. At least, I didn’t think so. I contemplated calling her up and cancelling the football game, giving her some random reason but I couldn’t. For one, she would probably guess I had cold feet.
At six-thirty, I texted her that I was about to go to our meeting spot and she confirmed she would be there. Before I left the dorm room, I subconsciously realized I was second-guessing every detail about myself. Was my shirt good enough? Was I wearing my decent pair of jeans? When I realized what I was doing, I immediately stopped and left before I did something even sillier by changing.
I was surprised when I walked over to the bench where we had been speaking that first day I ran into her on campus. She was already there waiting. Her face lit up in a grin and she rose to her feet. Dressed simply in a colorful dress and a pair of earth-toned sandals, she looked so young, I realized I had no idea how old she was.
“Thank God you’re not one of those late people!” she announced and met me halfway.
“Yeah, I don’t like being late,” I remarked. I’d had to put up with it from Marilyn who was usually late for everything. I found it quite relaxing not having to wait for once.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked, pushing her arm through mine without a second thought. She stared up at me, eyes wide with innocence and joy so that I didn’t dare to pull away.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Do you know much about soccer?” she enquired while we were walking toward the football field. She was so casual about our linked arms that I dismissed it as nothing.
“A little,” I answered. “You?”
“This is my first soccer game,” she admitted.
I slowed down and frowned at her. “We don’t have to go you know,” I explained to her. “I got the tickets from work and I didn’t want them to go to waste.”
“In other words, you called me because you didn’t have anyone else to go out with,” she concluded.
I flushed at her assessment of the situation because it was the truth. “I don’t have many friends.”
“You consider me a friend?” she wanted to know.
I shrugged. “I don’t know what you are.”
“Fair enough,” she conceded.
We continued in silence and the closer we approached to the entrance of the football field, the more crowded the area became. To get in, there was a bit of a jostle and Emma held tightly to my arm. I clung to her as well because the atmosphere could get a little boisterous and overboard sometimes during these soccer games.
I led her inside and scanned the area for seats not already taken. Holding onto her arm, I pulled her along with me, guiding her over to a section that was filling faster than the others because, of the vantage viewpoint.
“This should be perfect,” I told her, taking a seat beside her on the bench. They were not necessarily built for comfort but nobody went to the game for comfort anyway. The game tonight would prove an interesting one between the two strong competitors, Seattle Redhawks and Washington Huskies.
“Emma,” I said her name to get her attention because she was taking in everything happening about us. She was practically bouncing on the seat with excitement.
“Yes?” she asked, turning her head towards me and our eyes met and held. She stared into my eyes and I couldn’t turn away if my life depended on it. “Your eyes are so beautiful,” she said in awe and took my face in her hands so she could get a better look.
Heat flooded my neck and face at her scrutiny. “Emma.”
“Huh?” She really looked at me then and noticed how uncomfortable I was. “Oh oops, sorry. My mother always reprimanded me for crowding people’s personal space. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
Yet she was still holding my cheeks. I placed my hands over hers and removed them from my face. “Yeah, you don’t seem to know when you’re doing it,” I sided with her mom.
“I’m a toucher,” she explained on a smile and pushed a curly lock of red hair from her face. “I was never touched much as a child so you can probably say it’s my way of making up.” She grinned sheepishly at me. “You were going to ask me something?”
“Yeah.” I’d almost forgotten. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen,” she answered. “You?”
“Twenty-one,” I responded. “I’ll be in my final year next year.”
“I’m a fresher,” she remarked.
I nodded, satisfied that she wasn’t as young as I thought initially. She looked really young and I knew there were younger students who were at the university because of their strength in academics. For a fresher though, she seemed to know a lot of people and was involved in a lot of activities. I couldn’t say I was surprised when she waved to several people she knew. I watched the way she greeted those she knew with enthusiasm. She had a presence about her that was quite contagious and the more I watched her, the more she started becoming an enigma.
“I’m going to get us some drinks before the game begins,” she announced in surprise, getting to my feet.
“No!” I objected, standing. “Sit and I’ll go get it.”
“Thanks, but I can get it,” she remarked and would have moved off but I placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.
“Really, I insist, Emma,” I said firmly. “Sit.”
When she sat with reluctance, I shuffled out of the row of benches, past people and headed for the concession stands. I glanced back towards where Emma was sitting, waiting on me to return and found her looking after me. I smiled, my first genuine smile since my breakup.
“Oh gosh, so sorry!” I exclaimed as I ran into someone before I could tear my eyes away from Emma. I whipped my head around and froze when I saw who I had run into.
“Travis!” Marilyn exclaimed in surprise, clinging to Reeves’ arm. “What are you doing here?”
By her response, it was obvious she still expected me to be wallowing in my own misfortune in losing her to someone else. As much as I was still kind of wallowing, I wasn’t about to let her see how much I still cared for her.
“Excuse me,” I mumbled and sidestepped the couple, holding it together. I wanted to pull her away from Reeves and show her the wounds she had punctured in my heart. I continued walking, one foot in front of another. I concentrated on the steps, trying to block out the pain the sight of her had stirred. And I failed miserably. At the last minute, I looked back, my eyes trailing after her in longing. Reeves slipped his arm lower to cup her bottom and I felt sick. Instead of the concession stands, I raced for the restroom.