[Ellie's Story] Remembering...

October 2004

Fallen leaves lined the concrete path that led from the main road to one of the old residence buildings at the university. My feet kicked them away as I walked briskly down the pathway. Panting as I rushed, my breath created smoky billows into the crisp autumn air. Looking up, I could see that the trees had already begun changing colours to a wide spectrum of red, orange and brown.

I entered the lobby and into the activity room that was directly adjacent to it. There was no way I could have missed it – the music and conversation blasted out of that room like an uncontrolled children’s birthday party, breaking the silence of the lobby. Walking tentatively into the cacophony, I searched for a familiar face, finally finding Madison after a quick circle around the room.

“Hey Ellie,” Madison greeted me, all smiles. “Meet Dean – we have Biology together.” Madison’s cheeks were red, and her breath smelled like the beer that she held in her hand. Looking at Dean, it seemed like he was as tipsy as Madison.

“Hi Dean,” I quickly said before turning back to Madison. “Sorry I’m late, Mad – I was held up at the Chem lab. I had to put in an extra hour because the stupid experiment didn’t work….” My voice trailed off. I realized Madison wasn’t even listening. Her attention was focused on Dean and whatever he was saying to her. I placed my hand on her arm to get her attention. “I’m going to get something to eat. I’ll be right back.”

“Mmm hmm,” she replied with a distracted smile.

I walked to the food table and analyzed the scraps that were left – nothing looked particularly appealing. I reached for the last can of Coke that was left on the table.

Another hand got to it first, and I pulled mine back.

“Sorry,” he said. He offered me the can. “Do you want it?”

“It’s okay. I guess I can just find something else…” I said, looking at the table to see what else there was.

“Here, you can have it,” he said, handing me the Coke can. “There’s not much else left that’s…edible.” He was eyeing the empty table too.

“I guess that’s what I get for being late,” I muttered.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, nodding and studying me. “You must be a first year student. Otherwise you’d know that food goes fast around here.”

I smiled and shook my head melodramatically. “Busted. So much for pretending to know what I'm doing.”

He smiled at me. “Looks like you missed the BYOB memo too.” 

My eyes widened. “No way? Was I supposed to bring alcohol?”

“I’m kidding,” he laughed. “Just trying to give you a hard time.”

I chuckled, unable to help myself. “Do you do this to all first years?”

“Only the ones I like,” he replied, grinning. He extended his hand. “I’m David.”

 I felt myself starting to blush. Were all university boys this charming?

“I’m Ellie. Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand. “So…what are you studying here?”

“A lot of science courses,” he replied. “And you?”

“A lot of arts courses,” I bantered.

“Well, then. I guess we’ll be of no help to each other this year,” he said, shaking his head. “It was nice meeting you. Perhaps we can be friends next year if we take the same courses?”

I wasn’t sure if he was serious, as he said all of this with a straight face, until I saw the corner of his mouth finally turn up into a smile. “I’m joking. It is nice to meet you, Ellie.”

“You really have a unique way of meeting people, David,” I said.

He grinned. “It’s a gift I have.”

Not knowing what more to say, I inspected him, noticing that he looked quite good in a baseball hat and grey zip-up hoodie, with faded blue jeans. He seemed quite fit and athletic, with brown eyes that were lighter than was typical for an Asian. I also noticed that he had a small scar above his eye.

David asked me more about my classes and how I was finding my first year. We ended up chatting by the food table (or should I say, the "scraps" table) for half an hour. I realized by then that everyone was quite drunk, with some passed out on the lounge seats and some having headed back to their rooms. David and I were amongst the few that remained sober. I kept my eye out on Madison, especially when the room eventually cleared up of people and it was easier to see her across the space of the room. She was still talking to Dean, and several other people now, in a group. She seemed happy, and so I didn’t bother her. In truth, I was happy to be talking to David.

 We talked about our classes, our interests, our previous high schools, and our opinions on university life. I found out that he was from Calgary, and that he came here to study to become an engineer.

“Have you ever had a life-changing moment?” he asked, after a short pause in our conversation. At this point, we were outdoors, sitting on a bench situated on the concrete patio just outside the activities room. The Indian summer evening felt cool now, and he had kindly given me his jacket to wear over my dress and cardigan. I was caught off guard, as our last topic was on our favourite character off of the TV show Friends.

“Umm…let me think about that for a second.” I studied him and his warm brown eyes. I found myself being mesmerized by the patterns in them that I couldn’t see in my own dark eyes whenever I looked at myself in the mirror. Or perhaps I was just mesmerized by…him.

I refocused my attention on the conversation at hand.

“Well,” I started. “I couldn’t get into Calculus this term, so I had to take Music History instead. Does that count?”

“How is that life changing?” he challenged with a smile.

“Well, when your parents want you to major in marketing or accounting, taking any arts course can be life-changing. At the very least, it’s relationship-changing," I muttered sarcastically.

He laughed. I somehow loved the sound of it, even though I had just met the guy. “Well, I’m sure that’s just the beginning of your life-changing moments at this university,” he replied, still smiling. “I know I’m definitely experiencing my share of life-changing moments here.” His smile faded, and I could feel the intensity of his gaze on me.

I blushed with a ferocity that I had never experienced before (except for perhaps that one time when I was seven years old and was caught taking money from a charity jar, thinking it was free money). I knew then that I was officially hooked on David, all within an hour's time. I briefly wondered if there was any way that someone could have drugged my unopened can of Coke, and if the darkening night would hide my reddened cheeks.

 That night, David walked me back to my car after we said goodbye to everyone that we each knew at the party. We stood close together for the entire fifteen-minute walk, our shoulders bumping awkwardly in a mad, teenaged flush of first romance. He asked me for my number, which I didn’t hesitate to provide. (I didn’t know how to play hard to get then.) He hugged me goodnight, allowing me to catch a whiff of his scent – a mixture of soap and clean laundry. It was a beautiful night that I would always remember with the utmost clarity.

December 2011

Unfortunately, our ending wasn’t so beautiful. And that, I remember with clarity also.  

After two days of cold warring (meaning minimal talking on both of our parts), I sat in the bedroom while David packed up all of his belongings into a U-Haul truck and left. We had argued for two weeks before that, yelling, screaming, crying. It left us both exhausted, and we had no desire to see or talk to each other afterwards.

“I’m sorry, Ellie,” he said. “I just can’t do this anymore, not like this.”

I couldn’t reply. I simply stared out of the window, where the trees were bare of foliage. Bare and sullen, like me.

He sighed, and didn’t speak for a long moment. I knew we were both short on words, and patience. I listened to the ticking of the wall clock, sounding loud, defined, and final. Each second that ticked thickened the silence and the gulf between us.

“You understand why I have to go, don’t you?” He finally said, breaking the silence and my concentration on the ominous ticking sound.

I turned away from the window to look at him, and I could see the dark circles that had formed under his once beautiful brown eyes. He looked very tired. I realized how much stress this has caused him. I had been so engulfed in my own pain that I hadn’t noticed his.

“No, I don’t.” I said, voice shaking. I then slowly turned away from him, returning my gaze to the window. I tried to blink yet another set of tears away. So many tears that kept on coming – I hadn’t known how much I still had left in me after a solid two weeks of crying. “But I don’t care anymore,” I added, knowing how much this would hurt him. “Just go.”

I only heard his footsteps and the quiet clicking of the door as it closed behind him. That was the last time I had seen David. And that was five months ago.

Today

 I stood in my apartment’s lobby, waiting for elevator to arrive. I had relived my past with David during the walk home from work. All day I had been mulling over the fact that David was coming back, and after a much distracted work day, my feelings were let loose as soon as I stepped out of the office building. I hadn’t realized how strong my feelings still were, and how fragile I was about my relationship with David.

My eyes were wet with unshed tears after the emotional walk home, and everything in my vision, from the lobby to the elevator indicator, was blurry. Perhaps it was just my new mascara irritating my eyes, I stubbornly convinced myself. I tried my best not to let the tears fall.

A minute later, the doors opened, and I stepped in, holding a balled-up tissue to my face. I dabbed at my eyes.

Someone already in the elevator stepped to the side in order to allow space for me to stand. The elevator rose, while I looked down in contemplation.

Would I run into David? I thought to myself. Should I try to see him? What if he calls me? Could I handle seeing him?

The elevator stopped and its doors opened. I took a couple of steps out of the elevator and paused mid-step. Something looked wrong.

The man behind me cleared his throat. “This is the tenth floor,” he said to me. “I think you may have forgotten press the button for yours.” I turned around to face him. He smiled at me politely and pressed a button on the panel. “Here. You’re good to go now,” he said as he stepped out to the side, exiting the elevator and holding the doors open so that I could re-enter it.

I looked at the button for my floor, which was now lit. “Thanks,” I said to the man, puzzled at how I could have neglected to press the button. “Long day,” I explained soberly as I re-entered the elevator.

“Don’t sweat it," he replied with a smile as he removed his hand from the doors. “Take it easy.”

The doors closed and I was alone again. The elevator descended and I blew my nose into my tissue, allowing the tears to finally trickle. I inhaled, and noticed that the air smelled pleasant. I breathed in deeper, allowing the fragrant air to calm me. Then, my reflection in the steel elevator’s interior caught my eye. I leaned in closer to it, seeing that my eyes were now ringed in black.

“Great,” I muttered. My new mascara had apparently run with all of my crying and dabbing. I looked like a raccoon. In front of a stranger too. “Damn this new mascara. I soooo should have gotten the waterproof kind….”