February 30th (Simps will see dust 05)

As was my habit, as soon as the microbiology practical session was done, I quickly rose to my feet and dashed for the door. Anyone keen on my movements could have quickly surmised that I was rushing somewhere else, to probably get some important business done. I certainly had a lot of work to do, loads of it, but that was never the main reason for my prompt exits after our physical classes. It had been a little embarrassing for me, when I came to the realization that my liking for group discussions in general, and conversations in specific, was hinged on the deluding idea of  self-perceived intelligence and importance. There was the insatiable need to be thought indispensable to a discussion, to be regarded as high and mighty. But who really cared about another’s importance when it was in fact the personal goal of everyone to be thought of as witty and interesting. Everyone was in some sense on that spectrum, with a few of us, at the extremes. Yet discussions become interesting when we lay our importance aside and revel in the conversation. When we enjoy each other's company rather than strive to make others enjoy ours; when we get interested in who people are instead of trying to get them interested in who we are. 

It was a little unnerving to be around some of my classmates, especially those I wanted to impress. It was much easier to talk to them online than in person. This kind of edginess was the result of an incessant striving to be thought as perfect by my colleagues. But did anyone really care if I was impeccable? Flawless? I was suffering because of my pride, always beleaguered by the thought that my foibles were glaringly apparent to those around me. It was probably a characteristic of us humans, to assume that other people were thinking of us as much as we were thinking about ourselves. It would have been liberating to realize that everyone else was also thinking about themselves. That’s how broken we all were. And because of trying to be keen about the words I would speak in such settings, they came out awkwardly and in a way that was clearly artificial and inauthentic. And why all this? Because I was afraid of being found out. Afraid that they would soon realize I wasn’t as brilliant as they thought me to be. I guess I enlisted among those who appeared bright until they spoke, then it slowly dawned on everyone that appearances could really be deceiving.

“Henry, where are you running to?” I stopped and looked over my shoulder.

“Uhm…” I grunted the usual stammer that always came before my answers.

“Have you gone through the slides?” She cut in with a question before I could explain that I was heading home to get done on an article, and text those people I couldn’t talk to in person. Only that I would definitely not say that last part.  Looking into her face, it was easy to notice that wholesome and hypnotizing serenity that found its way into her words. Ashley always seemed sprightly and exuberant, no matter the circumstances, but the kind that was beautifully and gracefully restrained by modesty. Her occasional laughter in between conversations made it really calming to engage her.

“Kelsi will send the pictures, won’t she?”

“You would rather look at pictures than practically observe the specimen?” A demure smile meant to make me feel guilty spread across her face. “Come.” she said as she turned back towards the laboratory. The word come was uttered with all the kindness in the world but with such a peremptoriness that revealed how convinced she was that obeying her would be my only option.

The other students were still walking around, looking into a microscope and the next, with several of them still clamoring for the signing sheet that was meant to be a record of our attendance. I walked behind Ashley silently and obediently like a duckling following her mother. When she finally spoke, coolly and without turning her head, it was as if she meant to confirm that she knew I was behind her.

“I guess you have been to the museum?” 

From the time I had known her while we were in High School, our conversations mostly involved her talking while I groaned my ahas and laughed for most of the time, the kind of laughter that was meant to calm my nerves that always felt frayed and rankled anytime I stood before beauty. The Brenda-kind of beauty. Ashley had a kind of view about life that added verve and delightful animation to all her talks. She was bright, and it was no wonder to find ourselves in Medical School.

“Henry?” she turned back to look at me and then I realized that I had not answered her question.

“Yes, I have been,” I said with a grin. I had not been keen to notice that we were already standing by the side benches, where the crabs, one of the intermediate hosts for Paragonimus westermani, were on display. It therefore came as a shock that made me all edgy and uneasy when, with a kind of teasing nonchalance, Ashley said, “Brenda, what’s usually up with your friend Henry.”“Hmm,” Brenda carefully placed the bottle with the crab on the bench and looked up into my face. She wasn’t smiling, but it was that kind of a look that was meant to tell me in advance that what she was about to say was supposed to be a joke. Yet it was the most beautiful and incapacitating look, and I was certain that no smile in the world could beat it. Just to regard the grace, the light, and the peace that exuded from her calm countenance was torture for any man who was apt enough to notice beauty, real beauty. “Well, he’s been avoiding me. And it seems you are much better company for him.” Ashley immediately laughed heartily at the claim.

“Nooo!” I snapped but immediately cooled down, embarrassed at how forceful the interjection had been. “I had not seen you, you know I always say hi, don’t I?” I defended myself, in a little more composed tone.

“Yes you do,” she said jestingly turning to Ashley, “That kind of hi that always kills anyone’s vibe. Wait, you had left already?” she asked, suddenly turning back to me. “What were you rushing to do today?” 

“To write something, probably.” Ashley said and then silently waited for me to deny the statement. When I did nothing else but smile, a little sheepishly I think, at the accusation, perhaps as a confession that I was guilty as charged, she went on, “we love it when we read something you have written, but does it have to always rid everyone of your presence?”

Immediately I joined campus, I realized that I had a problem interacting with new people. It felt uncomfortable and I avoided conversations with people who I had not properly known before. The new friendships I had had taken days to build, and that was because the other party had endured my usually indifferent and pensive air around new acquaintances. Many people therefore, probably, thought me disinterested in society. But the problem was that I did not know how to think as everybody else thought. I longed for deep conversations that weren’t meant to end when our practical sessions ended. I wanted someone who I could talk to about all the books I had begun to read but never finished. I needed someone to share with about my ambitions and about the books I wanted to write but never knew how to begin. I hoped to find someone who I would confess my fears to, I hoped Brenda would be that person, but I never knew how to direct the conversation or she didn’t look interested in those kinds of stories. If Brenda didn’t care, it meant little if someone else did.

“Henry!” Brenda called. “Have you listened to anything I said?”

“Of course,” I said in a start recovering from my reverie, and tried to force a smile. “Well…”

“Well, what?”

“Would you want to go out with me for coffee, sometime?” I asked with bated breath and then patiently waited for the reply that would either ruin me or … ruin me. It was as if I had set a bomb, and I was counting the seconds to its explosion. Yet what followed made me wish that a bomb would actually explode.

“What?” Ashley asked. It was then that I realized I had just asked the wrong lady out, if I had even asked anyone out. I wasn’t sure anymore.“Are you done, guys?” Kelsi asked as she excused herself to take pictures of the specimen on the bench. “Hello Brenda?” She greeted Brenda, noticing Brenda had been part of the trio. 

“Hi Kelsi.”

I looked into Brenda’s eyes. Did she know it was her I meant to ask out? Was it right to correct the mistake and let Ashley know that the question was meant for Brenda?