Daydreams And Little Stories

First meet: Memories

“Why don’t you try visiting her again?”, my sister asked, looking at the portrait which still sat on the floor leaning against the wall on the wooden shelf. “It’s been a year and half. She must have graduated already”, I muttered, turning to the other side of the bed. “But did you move on?” she asked me, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I did not reply. Sighing, she yanked the snow globe that stood on the table between the scattered charcoal sticks and graphite pencils. Slightly shaking it, it began to snow.

“I suggest you call her and ask if you can both meet. It’s worth a shot, you know”, she sighed, putting the globe back on the table. “Think about it”.

I stood still in the bedroom, closing my eyes. Eighteen months. Was I too late to confess? Did she move on? She must have after my harsh rejection. Why would she keep waiting for someone who rejected her feelings? And we haven’t seen each other, nor texted for eighteen months now. She must be busy with her job and taking care of her siblings and what not. She must be an i***t if she was still feeling for me. On that account, I could call him an i***t. I pushed away my feelings and now could not move on.

I remember the first time I saw her.

It was not a very sunny day. The temperature did not hike up, but it was humid. Too much to handle. And walking with the luggage only exhausted me, but I had to. My dad was still pissed at me for dropping out of mechanical engineering college.

The station was crowded with commuters and tourists moving in and out of the train cooping-up and shoving elbows in each other’s stomach, even after earning glares and a couple of underneath the breath curses from the victims who gulped down the pain they felt in the gut but kept moving. Everyone looked busy and mundane. But the musicians who tried to make a living by playing their instruments stood outside the crowd near the kiosks. Maybe it was their flashy clothes. No one had time to stop and listen. They threw a coin or two into the hats which sat on the polished tile floor. I could hear the female vocalist reach contralto. It was enchanting but still none really noticed.

I managed to pull my luggage onto the train before the doors closed. Soon the train started moving.

I earned more annoyed looks and tsk's from people. I just bowed in apology, muttering a sorry or two and trying to find a seat. I couldn’t help it, my bag looked like a balloon but a hard one which would hurt if it hit someone. The canvas I was working on did not fit inside, but I somehow managed to stuff it inside. The tote that hung over my shoulder was heavy, and I had to carry two trunks alongside.

I finally found a place next to a woman with a small kid who looked no older than a pre-schooler. A man among us was in the middle of a heated argument over a phone call. I assumed it was his wife or girlfriend. That man was too loud and absorbed to even notice the looks he received from the other commuters. The woman who sat beside him soon switched places to an empty seat a little further once the conversation moved to a promiscuous topic. I pulled on my headphones, which were around my neck the whole time, to prevent myself from hearing some obscene language, and turned up the volume. Radwimps played. I liked this band. The songs were just beautiful. Many in my town knew them after they provided soundtracks for Kimi no na wa movie. But I knew them ever since the song on the 25th chromosome and remained a loyal fan all along.

After four hours of traveling, I reached his destination. Olnport town. As the name said, it had a port and a nice seashore. It was not the sunniest place, but that day it was humid. The coastline only made the weather more humid than what he experienced in his town. There it was dry. Here it was moist, and the air was heavy with salt yet humid.

I took a bus to the studio apartment I had rented. The land-lady said I would be sharing it with someone named Jean. All the way to the apartment I wondered how this roommate would be. Would he be neat and perfectionist? Would he be a drug-addict? Would he be warm and friendly? Would he be gay? Would he be an orthodox guy? I did not know anything but the name. But this was the only apartment I could find for low rent and the one with enough space. I had to take a bus to college every day. It was quite far from my college, but I was determined to get through it. This apartment stood 45 minutes away from the railway station. Usually it took half an hour, but recently there was a hike in the traffic. Or that’s what the land-lady said. On the way, I wondered if my dad was still mad at me. If so, for how long? So many questions unanswered.

The bus stopped. I was the only person to get down at the stop.

“Excuse me sir”, I called out to the cashier in the grocery store that stood below the small apartment building. “Yes, how can I help you?”, the cashier asked warmly. “Mrs. Sallow asked me to fetch the apartment keys from the grocery store”, I timidly replied. “Oh, the studio?”, the cashier asked, pulling out his drawer, “What’s your name young man?”. “Toru. Toru Ishikawa”, I replied.

The cashier went and shuffled the pages and stopped at one. There it was.

“I assume you are sharing the room”, the cashier looked up at the nervous-looking me. “Yeah”, I nodded. “Well, here’s the keys”, he put the keys on the desk. I muttered a thank you, quickly bowing by habit before walking outside to climb up the dog-legged black metal staircase.

I saw two studio-apartments on each floor. Upon reaching the third floor, I noticed two more apartments. The right one was his. It sure was just the way it looked. Double height.

Soon I started arranging his stuff. I did not know when this roommate of mine was going to arrive. All I hoped was sooner so we could buy the furniture. I did not want to buy in advance and then piss my roommate for bad choices. Not everyone has similar preferences.

By evening, there was a knock at the door.

“Hello”, she smiled.

I looked at her in confusion, expecting my roommate to appear, not a strange brunette girl with the brightest forest green doe eyes and freckles two shades lighter than her locks, all over her face.

“ Um… Sorry but do I know you?”, I asked, confused. “No, you don’t”, she confidently replied, offering her right hand,“ I’m your roommate. Jeannette Peyton, but just call me Jean. ”

I mentally face palmed. So, this is Jean. And I expected a boy. What the hell! So, will I be sharing a room with a girl?!

No way!!