I came to college to be educated. I want to spend my life building things, and I’ve come too far to risk throwing that away for this “college experience” that everyone seems to want so badly. I don’t have many friends, and most of the time that doesn’t bother me. But tonight… Tonight is a little bit different.
Tatay is getting on me again. He insists that I need to transfer to MIT or an Ivy League; thinks that NYU is “an insult to my intelligence”. There are so many intelligent people here and so many opportunities right here in New York. I like it here, and I like being close to school AND family. I guess that’s why it hurts that he wants me gone so badly.
“Bahala Ka Sa Buhay Mo”; “Your life is totally up to you”. That’s how every conversation we’ve had has ended, and I would be a lot more okay with that if it felt like he actually believed it, but it feels like nothing I do is good enough for him. I’m a straight A student, but that doesn’t matter if I’m studying at NYU. I’m on the baseball team which keeps me in good shape, but the sport is too long and tedious to be enjoyable. I’m independent and self sustaining, but that means I don’t understand the importance of family. It just feels like I’m never going to win, no matter how hard I try to make him proud of me. And to make it worse, the few friends I have are busy. The whole baseball team is at some frat party, my roommate is with his boyfriend, and all the miscellaneous classmates and dormmates I’ve talked to are asleep. At 9:30 p.m. On a Friday night.
I grab my keys, my phone, my wallet, and my hoodie, and I leave my empty dorm room. I walk to Washington Square Park, taking in all my surroundings and letting my thoughts wander, and as I get to the Arch I can hear music playing to accompany this beautiful voice. I get closer and I see a sign; “Black Student Union Open Mic”. There are close to 100 students watching in awe as these talented people perform on stage, and I don’t blame them. Their players are so in tune with each other and all the instruments are blending perfectly together, but their singer is standing out in the best way. I get past all of the taller people, and I stop in my tracks when I get to the front.
Their main singer is absolutely gorgeous. Her hair is wrapped up, and she’s wearing these lovely ruby, red earrings and a skirt with the pattern of the Haitian flag on it. The moonlight makes her skin glow and her voice is so soothing, yet also so powerful. She’s singing “Let’s Stay Together” and I can’t stop thinking about how much I wish that she was talking to me.
I don’t have much experience dealing with romantic feelings. I never had them often, and when I did they never lasted long. There are certainly lovely people out there, those who are beautiful or kind or intelligent or some mix of those and other positive traits. But they never made me feel much until today. Looking at this woman, I have no idea how people in love aren’t so distracted all the time. I want to listen to her sing more and talk to her and spend time with her, but who am I kidding? It would need to be a fairy tale for me to go from completely alone to being able to talk to someone like her in one night. And how do I know if this is even real? What if my mind is playing tricks on me? What if I’m just upset about all the other things in my life that I’m clinging onto this too hard? Oh god, what do I do about all the other things? Will my parents let me be myself? Have I eaten today?
I realize now that I’m hyperventilating and my hands are shaking. Everything is just too much. I try to breathe deeply so I can get in control of myself, but I’m also looking around to make sure nobody sees me. Fortunately, I happened to make direct eye contact with the incredibly beautiful singer so I could become more nervous than I already was. My face got red looking at her, and it felt like my body didn’t know what to do next. So before I embarrassed myself, I turned and walked away before the song ended.
As I’m walking around Washington Square Park, trying to pull myself together, I realize that my hands are still shaking. After what feels like hours but was probably more like minutes, I make a full circle back to the much less populated Arch, and grab a seat on one of the nearby benches. My breathing is as ragged as ever as I put my head into my shaking hands, and just try to grasp the full scope of my thoughts. In truth, I think the biggest problem is that I feel so alone. I don’t understand myself or others, and I don’t know how to interact with people that I didn’t live in the same house with. I just wish I had someone that could deal with my awkwardness, but I can’t expect that of anyone when I can’t even tolerate myself. I’m sure at some point this won’t be something I even care about, but it’s impossible to tell when that time is coming, and I have no idea what co-
My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a twig snapping, and I keep myself very alert. I can hear the sound of someone walking, and from the shadows emerges the gorgeous singer from before.
“Hi,” she says awkwardly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I was just kinda walking around.”
“No, no, you’re not bothering,” I say nervously. “It’s not my first time hearing weird things on a dark night.”
“Cool, thanks,” she says with a smile. “Hey, uh, aren’t you that guy that left the show early? Are you doing alright?”
“Oh, well thank you,” I say with an awkward chuckle. “I’m fine, it was just the crowd. People can be overwhelming.”
“Oh, I totally get that,” she responds. “But… didn’t you push your way to the front? Were the speakers not loud enough?”
“N- no no, th- they were,” I say, fumbling over each word. “I just- uh- I left my glasses at home, so I couldn’t see very well.”
“Oh, well that sucks,” she says empathetically. “Would you kill me if I asked how many fingers I’m holding up?”
“Given the lack of legality, I’d have to say no,” I respond with a chuckle.
We start laughing together, and when we stop I got the privilege of seeing how absolutely stunning her eyes are. They’re so sweet and full of compassion, and I got lost in them immediately. When I snapped out of it, I was disappointed to find that the trance I was in didn’t seem to be shared. Now, I need to think of something to say, and I need to do it very quickly if I want to keep talking to-
Wait.
What’s her name?
“Oh, uh, where are my manners,” I said as I held my hand out to be shaken. “My name is [REDACTED], pleasure to meet you. And you are?”
“[REDACTED],” she responds sweetly, almost contrasting her firm handshake. “Nice to meet you. You a student here too?”
“Yeah,” I say with pride. “I’m majoring in Mechanical Engineering; top of my class so far. What about you?” I gesture for us to sit down, and she obliges.
“Oh, so we got a star student here,” she says with an excitement that flushes my face immediately. “You should be proud of yourself, that’s very impressive to have such good grades when you take such hard classes. I’m majoring in psych, but I’m certainly not gonna end up valedictorian.”
“Who cares?” I ask with a surprising amount of confidence. “The human brain is so interesting, and you going on a journey to understand it means so much more than getting a 4.0 on your transcript.”
She sits stunned; completely still other than a few blinks. I can’t believe I just blew this.
She scoffs. “I appreciate that, really. I’m guessing your family is hard on you about your grades too?”
“Is it that obvious?” I respond with a sigh.
“Well, like you said, I’m on a journey to understand the human brain. I’ve seen this road before, you know?”
“In yourself?”
“In most people, unfortunately. Parents tend to screw up people’s heads.”
“Glad I’m not all alone, then.”
We start laughing again, and she’s so comforting that I almost forgot how terribly nervous I am. If I want to keep talking to her, I need to ask for her number… So how do I do that without making a fool of myself?
“Well, I gotta head to a friend’s house soon,” she says as she stands from the bench. “BSU is having a party, if you want to come!”
“Thank you, but I’ll have to pass,” I say despondently. “I’ve got a project I need to finish, but I hope you have fun!”
“Maybe next time then,” she responds sweetly. “It was nice to meet you. I hope next time we talk, there aren’t a million people around. Even though we’re in New York City.”
“I appreciate the wishful thinking. But, uh, before you go I wanted to ask, um-”
She tilts her head with a curious look on her face and whatever chance I had to finish my question is gone. It was such a small movement, yet I’m completely stunned by it. Why can’t I get the words out?
“You wanted to ask?…” she says curiously.
“I, uh- I think you’re really nice,” I said sheepishly. “And I’d like to talk to you… whenever… I want? Or, not I, but, whenever you- WE want, I mean. And, uh… maybe, if you wanted, we could… give each other… our phone numbers… if you want to.”
She stands right in front of me with the widest eyes, and I’m ready to turn around and walk back to campus so I can have the saddest sleep of my life. But, before I can, the impossible happens: she smiles! From ear to ear, and there’s a brightness in her eyes that makes my heart stop in ways I never thought I would enjoy so much.
“Yeah, sounds great,” she says enthusiastically. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “You’re so nervous, it’s like you’ve never asked for someone’s number before.”
I blink at her and she purses her lips, seemingly out of embarrassment.
“Well, I’m flattered that I get to be the first,” she says with a chuckle. “So, do you have anything I can write it down with?”
“I don’t, I’m afraid,” I say as I quickly pat my pockets.
“Looks like it’s time for a phone swap, then” she responds.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You give me your phone, I give you mine, and then we return them with our numbers shockingly in each other’s contacts.”
“Oh! Yes, let’s do that.”
We swap phones, and I put in my number with the name “[REDACTED]”. When I get my phone back, I see that her contact name is “[REDACTED] B)”. Her personality is vibrant and unrestricted, and it’s hard not to admire.
“Thank you very much,” she says with a smirk. “I’ll see you around. Good luck with whatever you’re working on.”
“Thank you as well,” I respond. “Enjoy the party, and thank you for checking on me. It was very thoughtful of you.”
“Psych major, homie. Thoughts are pretty much my thing.”
She turns around with a smile, and I do the same. Suddenly, my view of school and the city is a lot more positive than it was half an hour ago. Tatay won’t like it, but there’s no way I can go anywhere else now. “My life is totally up to me,” right? Well my life is where I am right now; New York is my home. And if I don’t want that to change then it doesn’t have to, and I shouldn’t be ashamed of myself for that. Like I said, I came here to get my education and my degree. I don’t care much about the “college experience”, but that doesn’t mean I need to have no experiences in college. And if people like her have a part in that, then maybe I’m willing to risk more than I thought.
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