Smile

I sat on the balcony of the fifth floor building, taking a break from my studies to day dream of killing that smile on her face. My notes were in front of me and my eyes were drowsy from the strain of reading the small text of my chemistry textbook, that I nearly fell asleep. However, I awoke, for my determination in finally placing above her was too strong for me to give up. My pride had been hurt, and I vowed it would be the last time. I will not lose to her again.

She was only five feet two inches, short black hair with a very cute smile. She sat in front of me in five of my classes, and in every one she has beaten me to the top. It didn’t matter whether it was chemistry or anatomy, or even writing, she always stood on that number one spot. Constant failures have taught me that number one was too far from my reach, my hands were forever cursed to be too short to wipe off that smug grin on her face.

I use to love that smile. It was the first one I saw ever since I came to this college. More accurately, it was the first one I could remember. To me, a stranger in this new country and college, that smile was a welcome mat for the endless opportunities I could encounter during my stay here. However, things have changed. Now I only wish to erase that smile from her lips until it became as small as she was.

I picked up my pencil and began to write. Memorize. Read. Notes of chemical reactions of carbons, the different components of vectors, the structure of the human heart; it didn’t really matter what I learned. Nor did I care much for the learning; I just want to learn enough to beat her. That’s all there is to it.

I heard from my psychology teacher that according to a theorist named Freud, we are all stimulated by our unconscious desires of lust and aggression, through an eternal struggle between the id and superego. It was the ego that kept things in order. Like the referee in every soccer and football match keeping players from ripping each other apart, or like every cop, teacher, parent that we see keeping order in a society of delinquents. Our egos, and superegos keep our desires in check; they kept everyone from raping their neighbors or stabbing the guy who cheated off your paper on an exam with a pencil. Right now, I don’t really feel my superego anymore, or the ego. I think my id ate them. Or closer to the truth, maybe my ego and superego joined the party and want to see her smile disappear as well.

That is why I am here alone on the fifth floor of my college, on the balcony, taking in the sights and smells of street down below. I could smell the faint wind of roasted chicken and car exhaust mixing to form a foul odor. The streets were tired and busy with the afternoon rush; the symphony of car wheels on flattened gravel mixing with loud horns signaled the busy lunch hour. I am there alone, sitting on a bench with notes of the previous lesson in front of me. My hands gripping my pencil tightly, the sweat from my forehead riding the slim frame of my eyeglasses. It’s still early, only 3pm. There is still two more hours to go before that final exam today. I must keep steady. I must not fail.

I really don’t understand myself at all. I woke up this morning intending to beat my rival to the ground academically, but now I just can’t stop thinking about her. Do I like her? Do I love her? No. It’s more than that. I admire her.

I woke up to the sound of someone calling me. Someone shaking and prodding my shoulder. I could not feel my glasses on my face anymore. I open my eyes and realized that my face was planted to the table on which I was studying. A steady line of sweat was running down my neck from the moisture, but my face was dry. My glasses were in front of me and my notes were closed. My head still shaking, I realized with utter contempt and disgust at myself: I had fallen asleep.

Disgusted, I took inventory of what happened and how much time I had left. I didn’t notice that someone had laid their handkerchief on the table to keep me from licking god knows what was on the table before I came. Someone had taken the glasses of my face and put them in my case so they wouldn’t break when my head started to become friendly with the table. Someone had closed my notes so the wind wouldn’t blow them to away. Someone had woken me up.

I looked next to me and saw her. She was there; smiling that usual smile. Her small frame seated next to me as she looked at me with that knowing look.

         She took my wrist and pointed at my watch and said, “You must have been studying very hard. Wow. Sorry I didn’t wake you earlier, you looked so peaceful sleeping there. Don’t worry though you still have an hour left.”

I could barely utter my thanks. My throat was dry; it could have been the depleted saliva from my throat (I have been known to drool) or it could have been that she was there.

“How long were you here?” I asked.

“About half an hour. I was on my way to the 4th floor to find someone to study with when I saw you nearly falling asleep. I just couldn’t leave you like that.” She replied.

That’s when my life started to change. For the better? For the worse? Up to now, I don’t really know anymore. Only that it hurts whenever I think about it. I looked again to her eyes and saw that she wasn’t smiling anymore.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Look, I know you’ve been competing with me this whole year. I get it.” She said.

“I think I’m winning, but I’m not so sure because you came close almost every time. But I’ve always had fun whenever we competed. You know that right?” she asked.

“Yeah. I know. We had fun, so why are you so sad?” I asked.

“I really can’t help it.” Her eyes…damn those eyes were almost as beautiful as her smile.

“I just wanted to tell you. I had fun this year. I really wish we can do it again next year. But, I’m being transferred to another college.’

It felt like the wind was pulled out of me. Time had stopped; I couldn’t breath and I couldn’t think as I saw her lips form those words. Everything I learned, everything I studied the past few hours were gone in that instant as my mind tried to wrap around the only thing that mattered in that moment: she was leaving.

I put my head down. I turned away. I couldn’t bear to look at her smile anymore. I didn’t want to be left with just a memory. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to take anymore tests, listen to another lecture, or write another page of notes. No. It seemed impossible. I can’t. I won’t.

Yet, at the sound of her voice, my head rose. She looked at me and smiled that sweet smile of hers and tapped my watch.

She stood up and said “One last hour, let’s make this last one count alright?”

And she left me there, sitting on the bench on the fifth floor balcony as she walked to our classroom. And so now I sit on that bench with even more determination to make sure I can see that smile on her face one last time.