Page 14 of The One That Ran Away
“Guess so. Uh… what about you?” Was it okay to inquire about Shannon’s current life? Or would it be toocreepy?Jess still remembered that word like a shot to her heart. “Can’t say I remember what you wanted to do when you graduated. I doubt most of us are doing what we thought we would be doing.”
Shannon became slightly crestfallen. Was she that sad that Jess couldn’t remember what she wanted to do after college? “I’m also a freelancer. Photography.”
“Really?” That was one thing Jess wouldn’t have guessed. Was Shannon into photography at all when they were in college? “Huh. Must do pretty okay for you to live around here.” She tilted her head. “Or you have someone to help pay for it, I guess.”
Shannon stiffened. That slackjawed grin continued to melt until she struggled to say, “I moved here with my boyfriend a few months ago, yeah.”
Boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
Of course.
“I see.” Jess hid her disappointment by shuffling her notebooks and pens around. “Well! That definitely helps.”You dumbass. Of course she has a boyfriend. Why wouldn’t she? Look at her. Men line up to be her boyfriend. She probably still has her choice of them.That’s the kind of heartbreak a woman like Shannon Parker left in her wake. An insufferable beauty. The kind ripe for the easiest lifestyle the world could throw at her. Not everyone would agree with Jess that this was one of the most beautiful women in the world, but theuniverseagreed she had a certainje ne sais quoithat made her a karmic favorite. For every woman Shannon surrounded herself with, five men popped up to ask her out.
Always the most bitter pill to swallow. Gay girls like Jess could never compete with chronic heteronormativity.
***
Memory #5
I walked into the smallest of the student cafés with a backpack full of study materials. The best way to get a jump on my mountain of weekend homework was to find a quiet corner in a quieter café and either start my reading or fill out some worksheets. I had a billion Biblical passages to memorize by Monday, or else my History of the Old Testament professor would give me a B instead of the A I deserved.
Naturally, I did not expect to see Shannon there.
She was studying French, a language I later learned was one of her passions. Because she wasn’t cool enough, she had a number of French novels, freshly checked out from the library, stacked beside her. Her elbow was on the table, and her hand in her bushy hair. Her nose struck out from her profile, contouring the light and air in a way that made her lips pinker and her cheekbones higher. In some cultures, she would be the pinnacle of femininity. The gold standard which all women strove to be like – and to date.
She scratched her scalp before glancing up. The moment she recognized me, she said, “Oh! It’s you.”
Yup. It was me. The woman who couldn’t stay away from her. Was she as intrigued by our constant run-ins as I was?
“How’s your arm?”
Did she mean my little wound that I would cherish forever? Because as obnoxious as it was to have a cut arm and an inevitable scar, it might be my only souvenir of these chance meetings.
“Fine,” I squeaked. “Just a scratch.”
“I’m so sorry. I should’ve…” She shook her head. “Can I buy you something for lunch? It’s the least I could do?”
Outside, I chuckled. Inside, I screamed. “OHMYGODOHMYGOD! She wants to buy me lunch!” Good thing nobody else could hear it – but they could probably see me shake. “You don’t have to do that. You walked me to the clinic. That’s enough.”
“Nonsense. How about some fries? Or do you prefer tater tots?”
I could’ve fainted.
Instead, I collapsed into a chair at her table. I watched the way she absentmindedly licked her fingers after picking at her French fries. I savored the moment she brushed against me to buy me some lunch at the counter. God, did I become hypnotized by her spritz of perfume that reminded me of the sexiest women I had ever encountered.
My textbooks joined hers. Next to her French novels, I piled up my copy of an annotated Bible and a textbook on Metaphysical Religions. The Bible intimidated people. Hilariously enough, people always thought that I was some religious nut because I was soft-spoken and didn’t drink alcohol. Didn’t help that I packed around Bibles, even if my interest in them was purely secular.
“Whoa, what’s that?” A salad and fries appeared next to me. Shannon sat down, eyeing my Metaphysical Religions text. “You can learn about that stuff here?”
“I’m a Religious Studies major,” I said. “Not the biggest department on campus, but it’s fun.”
“I see. Didn’t peg you as religious.”
“I’m not…” It never got easier to explain my interest in world religions and belief systems. So happened my area of expertise was focused on Abrahamic religions, hence the Bibles and their brethren. “I’m actually more into astrology than anything else.”
That was the wrong thing to say, as usual. When would I learn? You couldn’t be “just” interested in astrology. You always turned into a nutjob in somebody’s eyes.
