A rough exterior

On Sunday he would go see her, even though he knew she wouldn’t be there.1

It was a panicky cloud that had taken over Nathan’s head, making him sink deeper and deeper into one of his melancholic states. Not one person noticed them, and yet, he was able to go trough the day with not one thought. A stare into emptiness he could explain. [i]I am thinking about my chores. I am trying to think of something I was supposed to do. I am just really - Bored.[/i] And then, when his friends would laugh, he would chuckle too. It would be a sound as fake as the diamond earring in his eyebrow, empty of all the life he usually emitted, and still, his friends did not find it different than usual.2

Maybe it was because, over the last year, Nathan has succeeded in becoming a great actor. And no, not literally - the drama club that he joined because of her failed him miserably, and he knew even at the audition that he was probably the worst actor ever to walk that makeshift stage. Nathan has become the Houdini of emotions. The boy who didn’t care. The jerk that would ignore the phone calls of his latest girlfriend for weeks and then ask her what was the matter with her. The cool façade that he has made for himself has grown so thick that even Nathan himself believed it to be true from time to time.3

But then, there were those times when she talked to him, and he could feel the blush creeping up his neck. When the simplest message made him happier than any other thing in the world ever did. When he lay awake at night, hugging his pillow and imagining her form. Those were the times when he realized his own mortality, so to say. The knowledge that he was under someone’s influence so much, that he couldn’t resist giving in, even if he wanted to.4

And the worst thing was, she wasn’t even that special. A dark-eyed, dark-haired skinny girl, who was way too much into acting, and way too old for him. She wasn’t even a girl. Fourteen years his senior. A married woman. Forbidden fruit. And yet, she was his muse. Secretly, everything he did was on some level for her. The poetry he wrote, the stories he told, the hobbies he chose and even his internet history, they all had something to do with that heavenly woman.5

During the summer, when he didn’t see her for a long period of time, Nathan would go to the meadow he knew she would take her dog for a walk. He would look in the direction of her house and hope that she would appear. That they could chat for a while, and that his conscience would be silenced for a while. Still, the only time he saw her in those three months was from a distance. He was on the bus, and he recognized her form – by her walk. Yes, the woman had a very dignified walk, an aristocratic way of standing completely straight, proud and yet so tender. For what seemed like minutes Nathan stared at her, not believing his eyes, taking in every detail about her, trying to engrave the perfect moment in his memory forever. A smile spread over his lips, and he couldn’t contain himself. He closed his eyes and froze her image in his head. Yes, he would’ve stayed like that forever. It was only three stops later that he realized that he has been completely lost in time and space for the unknown period, and he made fun of the situation. Yes, he was pathetic enough to be desperately in love with someone who was so untouchable to him.6

The summer had passed with him cherishing that moment, and came the time when he would see her again. On a regular basis. And still, it did not happen. No matter how much he tried to linger in those big hallways, she never seemed to be there. A few times he did see her. Once she smiled and waved. The next day she walked right by him. 7

But it was not her recognition or not recognizing him that bothered Nathan. No. It was the even smaller things. The ways she changed her hair, that made her look so much more youthful. Her new sweater that was as bright as her most charming smile. The way she wore her new coat, having left the other green one at home that day – all these made Nathan more aware of the distance between them.8

He thought of crying, once or twice, but what would it have solved, for not one tear he shed would have any effect on her. Sometimes he wondered if he should just go and visit her. Make small talk and ask how she had been. He desperately tried to hold on to the little things he gathered about her from his friends, who, despite being oblivious when it came to his feelings, did not fail to notice how there was always a certain person who he asked little questions about.9

So there he was. Making plans about going to that show on Sunday that she was not even in. He knew how much it meant to her. Acting was her passion. And though no substitute could replace her on the stage, Nathan knew that by seeing it for the hundredth time, it would make him closer to her. Even if only in his mind, that closeness meant the world to him.10