Word of the Day: extemporaneous Eeee, people like my jacket! I finished my story today and emailed it to Baldwin. I have to walk up to Braniff in a little while to turn in the hard copy and get my Mansfield Park paper, which I'm pretty excited about. Here's my story. It's boring. Astrid slowly walked into her apartment. She did not look back. Her whole body was stiff and tense as she closed the door resoundingly behind her and locked it. “Did that just happen?” she said to herself. Her green eyes became wide as she began to think about what Scott had just said to her and her breath quickened. She was angry and scared; angry because he acted like the year and a half they spent together didn’t matter and scared because she lost one of the most important things in her life. She took off her jacket and put it, dripping wet, on the back of the couch as she walked past it in the dark. She noticed the bottoms of her pants were also wet, but that was only a fleeting thought. Shivers passed through her body, but she wasn’t aware of them. She did not think of changing her clothes, nor did she think of drying or warming herself. Walking through the dark hallway, she silently passed the closed door of her roommate’s room. Once in her own room, Astrid shut the door and stood in the dark with her soul coming out of her eyes in the form of salty tears. She felt overwhelmed. She knew she was in the first stages of heartbreak, but did not know what to do. She had never experienced the tumultuous feelings that washed upon her by the second. Feelings passed through her heart that she had never felt before—extreme anger, frustration, and fear, along with sadness and pain. She breathed and tried to calm herself, brushing the tears from her cheeks as she quietly searched for the light switch on the wall. When the lights were on in her room, she went to her desk, sat down, put her head on the surface, and sighed. Her muscles relaxed. Automatically, the conversation rushed through her head again as she recalled the sadness of Scott’s eyes, the reluctance of his tone. “There were no warning signs at all,” she whispered as she lifted her head, confused, as tears welled up again and ran onto her ruddy cheeks. Her eyes landed on a small, clear, plastic cup. In this cup were forty-seven dried rose petals, one for each flower Scott had given her. Because she was sentimental, she had kept a single petal as a remembrance of the rose. He had given her flowers since the very beginning of their relationship, and, in her mind, the petals stood for his early, strong, and constant devotion for her. Astrid took the cup in her hands and began to pour the petals out onto her desk, gently shaking her head and smiling. He was so gallant and charming, and though she could not remember the occasion for all the flowers, she did remember the look he had when he would give them to her. It was a look of joy—joy at her happiness. He had always tried his best to make Astrid happy, whether it was through giving her flowers or singing to her from the street. Her thoughts meandered through fond memories the two of them had, memories of winter roses and spring roses. As she played with the petals, gently fingering the delicate things, she thought, “If I meant as much to Scott as these petals mean to me, as much as he means to me, he would never have let me go. He did this to be just to make me hurt. He did it out of spite.” Suddenly she started and sat up straight in her chair, surprised at what just passed through her mind. What proof did she have that Scott was malicious and wanted to purposely hurt her? “No,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m not going to fall into self-pity. Scott is an intelligent man, and he knows what’s best for him. He didn’t do it to be mean to me—that’s childish thinking. Be sensible about this, Astrid. I’m fine without him.” As she said this, she heard a stirring in the hallway and knew that Olivia was awake and was probably on her way to see her. Astrid quickly tried to place all the petals back in their cup before Olivia arrived. There was a quiet pattering on the door, and Astrid, after fumbling to put the cup back in its place, turned around, blushing. “Liv, what are you doing up?” Olivia shuffled through the door and blinked at the lights. She was in her robe and her slippers with a glass of water in her hand. Her short hair was disheveled and she squinted behind her glasses. “I just wanted to say hello,” she said as she padded softly towards Astrid. “How was the evening?” Astrid told the story dully. “Astrid—” Olivia’s face twitched and she looked like she was about to cry. “No, I’m fine.” Olivia strode to her roommate, set the glass down on the desk, put her arms around Astrid’s shoulders, and rested her chin upon the crown of her head. She said seriously, “Astrid, you can cry with me if you have to. Scott must be insane for letting you go—you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.” “Thank you, Liv,” Astrid said, drawing away from the embrace, “but I just need time to sort things out.” “Of course,” said Olivia with a look of understanding. “If you need anything at all, you know you can always talk to me.” She smiled, and Astrid nodded and smiled back. “But first, Astrid, you’re going to change out of your wet clothes.” With that, Olivia grabbed her roommate by the arm, pulled her up, and brought her to her closet. Olivia left the room with her water, softly shutting the door behind her. Astrid heaved a heavy sigh. She changed into her sleep clothes, bundled up her wet things, and threw them into her laundry basket. She was worn out from that evening and hadn’t realized how tired she was until then. Hanging in her closet was a black dress she had just bought for Petros’ party that was a few weeks from then; Scott would be there. She drew her covers and slipped in between her sheets. She was strong, she was her own person. She didn’t think she needed to rely on anyone. But she began to thing that she might be wrong. “I’m not fine without him.” Wrapped in her sheets, curled up in a ball, she thought herself to sleep and cried. She had never before been so crushed. *********************************** “I don’t think I’m going to go, Liv.” Astrid stood in front of the bathroom mirror in her black dress. It was tight-fitting and showed off her subtle figure. Her hair was swept up in curls at the nape of her neck and she wore pearl droplet earrings. Worry stood out on her face; she didn’t want to meet Scott there. Olivia stood in the open doorway, blocking Astrid in the tiny, crowded room. “Yes, you are going. Look at you—you’re all dressed up and everything. You look perfect. How could you decide not to go now when you’re all ready to go?” She walked all the way into the bathroom and stood next to Astrid facing the mirror. Olivia, coming only to Astrid’s shoulders, wore a deep red dress which contrasted with her pale skin. She looked at Astrid in the mirror sternly, one eyebrow raised expectantly. She knew Astrid had bought the dress to impress Scott. The taller woman looked at her friend with affection. “She might know more about me than I know about myself,” she thought to herself smiling. “I know, Liv,” she said aloud and with a sigh, “I’m going.” Another hour more of preparation and driving found the two young women at the long-awaited party. There were people everywhere to celebrate the New Year. The air smelt of alcohol and cigar smoke masked over with elaborate perfumes and colognes, and there was a slight haze. Astrid and Olivia were separated at the door: Olivia to find their host, Petros, and give him their regards and Astrid to find their group of friends. Astrid sat down at a table close to the open window and near her friends. She scanned the room for Scott but could not see him. Her heart jumped to her throat. She didn’t see him. Olivia returned to Astrid bringing two cups of water for the both of them and left her once more to socialize. She was alone in the crowd. Sitting in the corner of the room she could observe the people and think to herself. There were groups of people in the middle of the room talking to each other. One of the groups, one made up of about six people, was heatedly debating an important issue by the red faces and sporadic shouts she could hear; she made out no words. There was a man sitting a few tables from where she sat, and he watched as she did. In particular he watched a pair, a man and a woman, talking very close to one another. Astrid could feel that the man sitting was in love with the woman he watched. “How does he do it?” she asked herself. “How does he just sit there and let his love for her go unknown?” He watched her as if enraptured, paying little attention to anything else. The pair soon left the room through the crowd, hand in hand, and the sitting man rose and went sullenly into the cool night air. There was an elderly couple, friends of Petros’ parents, sitting on a couch against one of the walls of the room. They looked tired; indeed, the wife’s head bobbed up and down trying to battle away sleep. But the husband held his wife’s arm and made sure she didn’t fall over. Astrid could see the love in his eyes. Those people were real. She sat back in her chair and sighed. Pushing her water away from the edge of the table, she looked up. There was Scott standing in front of her, looking down at her. His hand was shaking slightly and his blue eyes were shining. He was flushed in the cheeks and breathed shallowly. “Hello,” he said quietly. He sat down. “Hello.” Astrid felt herself become warm all over. For flashes of time she saw things in black and white. He was there, in front of her. She could reach out and touch him, but she didn’t. She could throw herself down at his feet and tell him that she was miserable and she relied on him far more than she had ever before let on. She felt as if she might. “Astrid, I’ve missed you,” Scott said, not moving. “And I’ve missed you.” It was like she watched herself from the table in front of her as she said this. She said it slowly and painfully with unknown hidden meaning in her eyes. His breath quickened. Scott leaned forward, closer to Astrid. “I know that these past weeks have been hard on you and I’m sorry.” He flinched as if he chose the wrong thing to say. She noticed that he couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you.” “Scott, don’t.” He looked into her face. There were traces of anguish in that beautiful face of Astrid’s, traces that distorted and twisted her mouth so that she could barely speak. She looked down; a tear rolled down her cheek. It fell into her open hands which rested in her lap. Scott made an involuntary move of his arm to reach for her, to comfort her, but checked the action. She closed her hand around the tear and rubbed it into her palm. There was something missing, she thought. She felt love, fear, pain, anger, joy, but there was something there that was calm between them. She didn’t feel rushed to get away from him, nor did she want him to linger. Her eyes slowly rose to meet his shining ones. All the emotions she felt seemed to be reflected in Scott’s watery blue eyes, but there was something missing there as well. He sighed deeply and heavily. “I know, Astrid. You’ve changed me, too.” “What?” “You’re not a stone anymore, Astrid, and I’m not an island. I think you know what I mean.” They sat there for some time staring at each other, not moving or speaking. Olivia watched their profiles from where she stood near the couch with the elderly couple. There was tension between them. If she didn’t know either one of them she’d have thought that Scott was going to hit Astrid across the face and walk out the room. It was as if they were speaking to each other. Olivia noticed his hand begin to shake underneath the table and he began to sway slightly forward to back. She could see almost unnoticeable sparkles of sweat on his forehead. Astrid, also tense, was leaning slightly forward. The air from the vent above them disturbed her hair and she shivered once. Olivia didn’t think it was with cold. The both of them occasionally blinked, but they didn’t blink back tears. Slowly the noise of the party faded out like a finished track, and the three of them could only hear their own pounding hearts, waiting for the moment. Astrid stirred, shuffling her feet and looking away. Scott began to breathe more normally, not as shallow as he had been breathing. They smiled at each other. “Will you call me sometime, Scott? There’s a story I have that you might enjoy.” Scott rose from his seat. “I’ll call you.” They said a simple goodbye and he left the party, thanking Petros before he walked out the door. Astrid got up and went out onto the balcony. The man she had observed before was still there, smoking a cigarette and looking sullen. She leaned over the railing and peered out into the dark backyard. Taking in a deep breath of the cool night air, Astrid thought, “It’s not all or nothing. It’s not the difference between stone and air. It’s enjoying time, it’s living. That man there might not be happy but he is alive with feeling.” She looked at him; he put out his cigarette, stretched his arms, and cracked his neck. He sighed and smiled thoughtfully and walked back into the room. She didn’t know what to do, but at the same time she did. Her life was not over, and she realized that it had only just begun. She walked back into the room, found Olivia, and gave her a hug. Shit, I wouldn't read all of that unless I had to grade it. Aaron came over today. He walked me to Braniff to turn in my story and then we went to his apartment. We watched MTV for an hour or so (oh man, I miss MTV/MTV2/VH1/BBC America sooooo much) and then he took me to Jack in the Box for dinner. Ah, such a good man. THE END!