My Perfect Fake-Boyfriend

Juniors rule the school, ok- that’s not true. Senior are the king of the jungle (well actually most of the lion population lives in the savanna around Northwest India or South Africa). However, the lions aren’t always here; the ‘lions’ are either in traveling school or in the trips that their clubs provided. And if any seniors stayed at school full-time, they were considered loners and (or) boring. And during the time they stay they don’t stay enough to get comfortable, so we, juniors have been promoted as kings of the jungle, and we were enjoying every second.  Er-okay, actually there did no difference. I think you only notice the age difference if you’re at the bottom. I was always awed by how cool the seniors were, and now that I’m a junior it no longer seems all that interesting. But I suppose being Juniors does have some advantages.  The in-school café and deli which was sacred territory was one example. Last year “The Caf” was hogged by last year's juniors who are this year's seniors. So here I was with my girls and Ed my okay-ish boyfriend.  Kidding? I like him a lot it’s just..  I'm not being mean, just recollecting the facts. He is kind and not in the least bit jerk-like, but something about him was cold, like he calculated every move and recorded every change in behavior like I was a new species that needed to be studied. He was a poet, but his true passion lied in art. Or so he claims, he’s written me at least ten sonnets. The first time it was sweet. I was at goo at his feet, he went on and on about my smile and the “fragrance of your hair” which was refreshing and romantic. But he’s written me TEN sonnets, so at this point I think he just really likes sonnets.  And if that's not enough to start judging then maybe you should take last night; he completely assumed my order. He ordered me a salad, when I was obviously eyeing the veggie burger with spicy fries. And while I don’t fault him for not being a mind reader, I do fault him for not asking.   But I do like him, and I really think that if he learns to write me something else besides a sonnet and ask my order. (And treat me like an actual girl and not a new species on exhibit.) I think we’ll be okay.  “Babe, pass me the sugar.” His eyes don’t lift from his coffee, his broad frame stick thin.   I comply and was about to ask for some napkins when he handed them to me. Without me needing me to ask. Okay, that was sweet.  “Thank you.” I say, expecting him to repeat the sentiment. He didn’t.  I growl, internally of course.  What nerve to just think I was doing this out of - let me explain.   Most girls would be over the moon that they had such a comfortable relationship with their significant other.  I bet I would be too, if it were the right guy. According to my father, you knew it when you I felt it. I was still waiting for it, whatever it was.  All I did know was to not waste my time or his, when we clearly did not have chemistry.   I’m sure that if I tinkered a bit longer something would spark but... that was a 50/50 thing and Ed didn’t seem all that interested in doing his part.  I didn’t enjoy breaking things off with the boys that I see, but I would be lying if there wasn’t a wave of relief I feel after each breakup. It was the burden of possibly hurting someone, when you dated someone you gave them all of you, the worst and best parts and it's up to them whether they like it or not. And even if they do think they like it, you never truly know, they can still walk out. And what’s the point of giving yourself up to anyone besides The One?   My mom saw all of my dad, and she must’ve loved him too. But not enough to stick around for when things got rough. She thought he was dreamy and optimistic turned out he was a dreamer. There was chemistry but much more one sided, not the 50/50 I heard it’s supposed to be.   You don’t need a genius to know what happened next, fights, lawyers, divorce, and so many tears. Most were shed by my dad and me, my mom was never a crier but she cried the night they agreed on the divorce. I was 10 then, plenty old to understand and cry, but not old enough to try and help.  “I do so much for you. For us, to keep a roof over our heads, and to give the best to Felicity. Yet, you don’t have the decency to appreciate me, just a little.”  “I didn’t sign up for this Enrique, I didn’t sign up to be poor or worried or stressed or...” My mom trailed off stopping herself.  “Or what? A mother? A wife? What is wrong with you! You knew what you were getting into, you knew I didn’t have much money, you knew if you married me, we would be on our own. That didn’t stop you. I don’t see how you think you are a victim.” All these words were supposed to be accusatory but they came out sad, and angry and soft. My dad never yelled, he always believed it was pointless. His accent making the words sound like a song.  “Leave my daughter out of this!”  “OUR daughter, and you clearly don’t love her enough to put up with me.”  “I could say the same for you!” My mom however had no qualms about yelling.  “No.” My dad replied voice soft yet hard at the same time, his eyes were sad and had something else in them I couldn’t recognize at my young age. “I would put up with a thousand of Maria’s just to keep that smile on her face.” He says this as he looks at a piece of paper.  My mom stays quiet. So, my dad continues.   “This isn’t going to work, is it?  I almost threw up then and there, I wanted to run out and beg my mom to change my dad’s mind, to hug and kiss him like she used to after an argument or bad day. But my mom was as stubborn as a mule and simply stood quietly.   That was enough of an answer for my dad though “I will call the lawyers in the morning.” Then he spread out his blanket and got comfortable on the couch. My mom retreated into their room, offered to her out of courtesy. I knew that my dad loved my mom, I knew that my mom loved him too. And at the time, I had no idea why they would sacrifice all of that love.  When I thought everyone was asleep, I creeped to my window and watched the leaves of the big old tree sway. And I saw my dad, he was yelling into the wind, his hands and sobs muffling his cries. I left the windowsill.  Around 2AM I still couldn’t sleep, so I creeped out of my room into the living room and just sat dully, and when my mom creeped out of her room to the couch to check on my dad who was still outside. I hid, I wasn’t afraid of her, not in the least. I loved her. But something told me that I’m not supposed to be there.   My mom stared at the couch across of me, and when she finally realized he wasn’t there she started to sob softly, and finally she leaned down and kissed the pillow  “I will never let myself forget.” was murmured and then like magic, her face hardened into a mask.  She fluffed the pillow and folded the blanket and went back to bed.  My parents loved each other, but not enough to stay together? Not enough for me?   Later on, my dad told me that sometimes poverty and failure can c***k even the strongest love, so you had to be smart when dealing with your heart. I always thought that if some hardships and problems can separate two people who loved each other, then there had to be a failing factor. I refused to believe love wasn’t real I couldn’t see it as just another illusion created by humans to comfort us in our silent solitude. Like peace and evil, there will always be war and what is evil? It is all perspective.   But Love isn’t perspective, it is there or not there. And I intend to find it.  Sydney snapped her fingers in my face, and I focused on her signing. In ASL she asked.    “Again?”  I nod.  “Why? Did he say the l word?”  I roll my eyes and focus on Ed, maybe I should keep him around more, I already gave him the ‘You need to respect my privacy and no s*x speech’. He was pretty understanding about both.   “Time to go to class!” Sydney piped up.   I look down at my muffin and tea. I wrapped my half-eaten muffin in a napkin for later and gulped down my tea. I pop a fizz mint in my mouth as I walk beside my boyfriend.   Nothing was off unless you were watching, then you would have noticed that this was the first time this week when I didn’t hold Ed’s hand.