Chapter 4

Charlie

Being back at university makes me feel like I can finally breathe again. After a weekend full of tears, walking through the corridors feels amazingly liberating.

I’m glad that I can focus all my attention on my studies again and don’t have to deal with the hundreds of missed calls and messages from Sam anymore.

After about the twentieth “I’m sorry” message, I actually stopped reading them altogether. My heart simply couldn’t take reading those empty words. He didn’t feel sorry while it was happening or after it happened. He was just sorry that I had caught him doing it.

I had considered blocking his number, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do it. On Saturday afternoon, the text messages and calls finally stopped, and I finally found some peace.

I know I can’t avoid him forever, but I still hope that today isn’t the day I have to see him again. The university is big enough that I’m sure I can avoid him.
I quickly dismiss the thought of Sam and return to the important matters at hand. This semester is quite busy with several lectures and seminars. I am not particularly upset about it, especially not now, but I am still a little concerned about taking on too much again.

It’s my second year studying philosophy and history. Last semester, I attended several seminars and lectures that I actually should have attended this semester. Because of this, I had actually said I would try to take it easier this year, but my ambitions from last year had given me more free time than I would have liked.

That’s why I decided to take a course in English in addition to my courses in history and philosophy. In fact, it wasn’t just because I like to broaden my horizons, but because it meant I could finally attend a lecture with my best friend Ellie.

She and I have been best friends ever since a boy named John Kowalski made fun of my Hello Kitty tights on the first day of elementary school and she pushed him into the sand for it. We’ve been there for each other through everything ever since.

That reminds me, maybe I should finally call her about Sam. She’ll probably kill him, but at the moment, I wouldn’t even mind. Okay, maybe I would mind. But only because my conscience would kill me, and I don’t have time for a nagging conscience.

When I finally find the right room for my lecture, I breathe a sigh of relief. I might have been here for over a year now but I still get confused sometimes, trying to find the right room.
The first lecture I’m attending today is moral philosophy, followed by my English class with Ellie.

As I am walking into the lecture hall, I grab my phone from the backpocket of my jeans and text her.

Me

Hey, wanna meet up before literature?

Ellie and I always wanted to go to the same university. She is probably one of the smartest people I know, and she could probably have done anything she wanted, but ever since I’ve known her, she has always wanted to be an elementary school teacher. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine anything more suitable for her. She is an absolute ray of sunshine with an open heart and an open mind. Children love her, and in my opinion, she will be the perfect teacher.

My phone vibrates in my hand as I sit down in one of the front rows. My professor, Dr. Hickens, is already standing at the front, organizing his materials. When he looks up and spots me, he gives me a quick smile before looking down again. I put my things on the table in front of me and take out my phone once more to check Ellie’s reply.

Ellie
   
Hey, I would love to but I am still at the airport.

Me

Why? What happened?

Ellie

I just arrived back in London! I think my mom will need another vacation after this one. I will call you later and tell you everything.

Have a great first day! Love you

I smile at her last message. I can only imagine how she and her whole family are standing at the airport, her mom completely losing her mind like everytime something is not going according to plan. I love Ellie’s mom but that woman needs to calm down for the sake of her heart.

I lift my gaze back up from the screen and take a look around. The room starts to fill with some faces I recognize from the past semesters. Through a few seminars and study groups, I even knew some of them personally, but I never really bothered to become friends with them. Not because they weren’t nice or anything. Not at all. They were all pretty decent people, but somehow I never felt the need to surround myself with lots of folks.

I have a few friends whom I love with all my heart and to whom I would entrust my life. Ellie, whom I’ve known almost my entire life. Jasmine, a medical student who I met on my first day at university. An absolute genius. And her brother Oliver, who studies English and takes a few math courses with Sam.

Ugh, Sam.

Fortunately, before I can dwell too much on my messed-up love life, Dr. Hickens begins the lecture by posing a very interesting question:

“Is it ever permissible to lie?”

We talk about this question all the way through the lecture. Hearing all these different viewpoints is fascinating. A few of them claim that lying could occasionally be readily justified. That if you had a good reason to do it, there is no point in judging it.

I think that lying always has negative consequences. No matter how much you believe there are good reasons for it. Even if you don’t cause any immediate harm, that lie will come back to haunt you at some point and force you to either lie again or tell the truth that you originally wanted to hide. Either way, lying doesn’t benefit you or anyone else.

When Dr. Hickens finishes the lecture, I look at my watch before finally getting up from my seat. I still have fifteen minutes left before my next lecture starts. So I should have enough time left to get some coffee from the cafeteria.

The cafeteria is located right next to the
English faculty. I’ve never actually been inside the English faculty, at least not on my own. The only times I’ve been inside the building were during the winter months when I was waiting for Ellie after lectures and it was too cold to stand outside for more than two minutes. But the room shouldn’t be too hard to find, so I can easily grab a coffee and still get there in time. 

Even though the time should be more than enough I quicken my steps down the stairs and out of the building. When I enter the cafeteria I check the time again.

Ten minutes left.

I have the same as always, a cappuccino with lactose-free milk. The girl behind the counter smiles at me when I put the change into the tip box before I hurry back out and into the building to the left.

I have only five minutes left and I’m running up the stairs now.

“Damn it,” I hiss as I turn the corner a little too quickly and spill coffee on my hand.

At the end of the hall I can finally see the right door and a sigh of relief escapes my lips.

Although I am on time, I still somehow hope that Professor Simmons isn’t there yet. I have never met him, but I have heard many good things about him. I was really hoping to get into his class, especially because of the list of books he had planned for this semester, which included some of my personal favorites.

As I step into the room my gaze instantly wanders to the front and to my surprise he is not here yet.

I’m generally surprised how few people are here, given that the lecture is due to start in less than two minutes.
The room isn’t really a lecture hall either as I expected, but more of a seminar room with maybe about twenty seats.

My gaze wanders through the rows, searching for a free seat. At the very back of the room, I spot a girl I’ve seen chatting with Ellie a few times before. She is sitting alone, and since she’s the only one who looks even remotely familiar to me, I walk over to her table.

“Hey, is this the lecture for English literature with Professor Simmons?”

The girl looks up at me, with big brown eyes. Her features are so soft, the color of her skin beautifully toned. Her hair falls around her face in perfect waves. She basically looks like a hot summer day at the beach, if that makes any sense.

“Hey, yeah it is.” She smiles. “You are Ellie’s friend aren’t you? She talks about you all the time.”

“Yeah, I’m Charlie.” I smile back down at her.

“I’m Hannah,” she says. “You wanna sit with me?”

Before I can answer her, the door behind me bursts open with a loud bang. A woman rushes into the room with her high heels clicking loudly on the wooden floor. The door handle bounces off the wall with a loud thud and the door closes perfectly behind her.

Without thinking twice, I quickly sit down next to Hannah and take my things out of my bag. It was awfully quiet in the room and all I could hear was me sorting through my stuff. 

Suddenly, I hear a strangely familiar voice from the front of the room. “Are you done now?”

I freeze in my tracks and slowly raise my head. When my gaze meets hers, a cold shiver runs through me.
It’s her. The woman from Friday night.
Stella.

Her eyes widen a little when she sees me, but not so much to obviously give something away. I’m still pretty sure she recognizes me just as much as I recognize her.

But something about her is different. I can’t really explain it, but she seems colder, her eyes duller than they were the night I met her. There is no trace of the bright blue of her eyes that I had admired so much.

“I asked you a question, Ms…”

“Campbell,” I answer quickly. “And I am sorry, Professor. I couldn’t find the room and…”

“I do not care about your reasons,” the tone in her voice startles me. I understand that she wants to start her lecture without being disturbed, but I had no bad intentions. I stare at her for another second before I let my bag fall beside the table.

My cheeks burn from embarrassment as I can feel everyone’s eyes still lingering at me. I sink deeper into the chair, making myself as small as possible.

When the room finally settles in complete silence she turns to the board at the front, takes a piece of chalk and writes something in big letters.

Prof Anderson

Stella Anderson.
The name repeats in my head over and over again. Saviour in the night and bitch by daylight, or what?

“Im Professor Anderson, and I will be your teacher for this semester.”

Great.

“I’m actually from America and used to teach at Harvard University back there.”

A few seconds of silence fill the room as she waits to see if we all acknowledge what she has to say. Some nod their heads with interest. Some gasp at the mention of Havard, which makes me roll my eyes. Most Americans have the educational level of an elementary school student, so how hard can Harvard be? Okay, it’s certainly challenging, but it’s still just a university.

“As you all read in the email I sent you over the weekend, Professor Simmons has unfortunately become ill and will not be able to teach at the university again until he has recovered.”

I don’t really pay attention to what she says anymore, but only how she says them. Was her voice already that annoying last Friday? It felt comforting a few nights ago but now it feels like listening to a broken record.

However, I pause when I hear the word email. I haven’t received any email. Or did I forget to check? I don’t know to be honest.

This whole weekend is nothing but a blur in my mind. I can only remember that I cried. A lot.

“As you could read in the email as well,” she continued. “I like to start my literature lectures with a small theoretical introduction. Many of you may think you know how to approach literature. I claim the opposite.”

Of course you do.

My gaze wanders to Hannah beside me but she is already looking at me rolling her eyes. I bite my lip to suppress a laugh.

There’s nothing about the woman in front of the room that reminds me of the woman I met that night when she saved me from that little cockroach.
Perhaps I’m simply overthinking it. I mean, we spent no more than forty minutes together. As if I could know her better than what she truly is: a stranger.

“I hope you’ve all seen the list of books we’ll be discussing this semester and have brought the first book with you to class today,” she asks, raising her left eyebrow. Everyone around me suddenly nods and reaches for their books.

Oh shit.

I look over to Hannah as she grabs her copy of Literary Theory: An Introduction to Approaches, Methods and Terms.

Professor Anderson’s gaze wanders through the rows, checking if everyone has a copy of it. 

“Do you have a copy?” Hannah whispers as silently as she could. I shake my head slightly to say no, but Anderson’s gaze is already fixed on me.

“Any problems, Ms Campbell?” Her tone almost mockingly.

And again everyone’s eyes land on me. My face must have reached the shade of a tomato at this point. Usually I try to run under the radar of everyone, trying not to draw too much attention. I’m not socially anxious, but I’m always afraid of making a fool of myself. I’m afraid that I’ll do or say something that will permanently shape other people’s opinions of me.

Thanks to her I already made a fool of myself twice today in front of people who I can’t justify myself to. People who I can’t explain to why I acted the way that I did or said the things that I said. People who I can’t prove to that their assumptions about me are wrong and that there is an actual explanation behind everything I do and say. People that probably don’t even care to know.

“No.” Why am I saying no? Of course there is a problem. “I mean, yes. I don’t have the book yet.”

“Well, that is a shame. I told you explicitly to buy the book before the first session in my email. You could have at least—”

“I didn’t even receive an email,” I interrupt her. I didn’t mean to say that, in fact I didn’t mean to say anything at all. Right now, I’d just like to take it back. I’m not even sure whether I actually received the email or not.

Anxiously, I clench my fists at my sides, my fingernails digging into my palms to calm myself down.

“Then I suggest, the next time you come unprepared to my class to at least ask your fellow students beforehand and not bother me with your unreasonable explanations about your incompetence to properly check your email inbox.”

My mouth falls slightly open at her response. I want to say something, anything to defend myself, but not a single word forms in my mouth. The silence in the room is suffocating me, laying its hands around my throat, making it too sore to swallow it all down.

Professor Anderson doesn’t wait any longer for a response and cuts off the conversation by turning around and writing something on the board. Everyone around me starts turning pages as she starts explaining the course of the following weeks.

Hannah moves her book into the middle of the table so I can read along but all I can do is just stare at the letters on paper unable to put them together into words.

Only when I hear the sudden noises of people closing their books and packing their stuff into their bags I find my way out of my thoughts. I look up and watch Professor Anderson gather her books and walk quickly out of the room.

I don’t hesitate to quickly put my own belongings into my bag and follow Hannah out of the room.

“What the hell is her problem,” she suddenly says.

“I don’t know,” I mutter.

“Are you okay?” Hannah asks as she lays her hand on my shoulder.

“This was just exhausting,” I say. “More than it should have been. I was so excited for this course and now…”

“Yeah I get it,” she sounds almost as disappointed as I am. “I was also looking forward to this lecture especially because of Professor Simmons’ good reputation.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I push the door open and step outside of the building. I feel like it was warmer when I got into the building earlier. Maybe it’s because the sun is now completely hidden under clouds and without it the October air feels freezing cold.

I pull my red leather jacket closer around me as I feel a rush of goosebumps all over me.

Hannah stops beside me and takes a deep breath before turning to face me.

“I have a lecture in ten minutes and could really use a coffee beforehand, so I have to go now, but it was really nice to meet you, Charlie,” she smiles at me. Hannah’s smile could light up a whole room, I’m sure of it. It’s contagious, and besides my bad mood I feel my lips forming a small grin as well.

“It was really nice meeting you too, Hannah.”

“See you on friday,” she waves at me in goodbye before she enters the cafeteria.

While I walk towards the exit of the Campus I keep repeating today’s events over and over in my head. Philosophy was great and I really like Dr Hickens. I already had a few lectures with him and he is really nice and a very good teacher.

But Professor Anderson is a different story altogether. I really don’t understand what’s going on with her. Especially since we’ve already met under different circumstances. Based on the look she gave me when she saw me, I would have said she recognized me, but maybe that wasn’t the case after all. But what difference would it even make if she did or not? There was absolutely no good reason for her behavior. It was unnecessary and mean.

My gaze is fixed on the path when I suddenly hear quick footsteps behind me, interrupting my thoughts. I don’t pay much attention to it until someone suddenly grabs me by the shoulder and spins me around in mid-stride, almost causing me to fall.

“Hey, what–” the words get stuck in my throat as I see who is standing in front of me. It’s Sam.

My stomach twists and I immediately feel like I’m going to throw up. So much for thinking I could easily avoid him.

He seems completely out of breath. His blonde hair is tousled and his shirt is stained. I notice that he is not wearing a jacket and does not have a backpack with him. I look around and try to figure out where he might have come from and how he could have seen me from inside.

“I had a physics class in that building,” he pointed towards one of the bigger buildings to my left.

“What do you want,” I say, trying to sound as unbothered as possible.

“I want to talk.”

“About what?”

“You know exactly about what,” he sounds almost angry.

“Oh you mean about the fact that you cheated on me?” The memory hurts but there is something bubbling underneath, taking over the sadness I have felt for the past few days. The whole weekend I tried to figure out why he did what he did. But now as he is standing in front of me I realise that I actually dont give a singel fuck about his reasons. What matters to me is that he did it and no matter what he will say to defend himself I don’t want to hear it.

“It was not even actual cheating, okay?”

“Are you for real, Sam?”

“Come on, Charlie,” he throws his hands up, just like he did back in the club, as if I am the one who’s being unreasonable.

“No, you had that girl all over you. She was dry fucking your dick while I was fucking two meters away.”

Come on, say something stupid enough for me to actually hate you. Give me a good reason to hate you enough to not give a goddamn shit about you anymore.

He looks at me like he always does when he doesn’t know how to talk his way out of a situation. He looks at me as if I’m completely crazy and totally delusional. As if I’m just making it all up to annoy him.

He once called me a drama queen when I saw that he still had a dating app with an active profile on his phone. I didn’t see any recent messages and he deleted the app in front of me, so I dropped the subject, but now I know that should have been my first warning sign.

“I was drunk, okay. I didn’t know what I was doing,” he scratches the back of his neck. He is lying. Of course he is lying.

“You are pathetic,” I say, trying to turn away, but he grabs my arm and turns me back toward him.

“I thought it was you pressing your ass against me,” he suddenly says. There it was. The stupid thing he had to say, to make me hate him enough to not give a damn anymore.

“There is only one problem with that, Sam.” I say and he looks at me uncertain of what I am on about. “She was blonde, Sam. I have brown hair. So you could tell even from behind that she wasn’t me, or are you suddenly color blind too?”

He takes a step back, rolling his eyes.

He actually has the audacity to roll his eyes at me for catching him in another lie.

“Okay, listen.” I am not listening. “I am sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to. I was drunk and you were nowhere to be seen. I didn’t think dancing with someone was such a big deal.”

“You call that dancing?”

“It was dancing,” he claims.

“You are full of shit,” I spit back.

I turn around to walk away again, and this time he grabs me by the neck and pulls me toward him. His lips land on mine, and I try to push him away, but his grip around my neck is much too strong. I hit him, and when he finally lets go of me, he actually grins at me.

“What the fuck, Sam.” I try to wipe the kiss from my lips with the back of my hand.

“Come on, you liked it. You always liked it when I was rough on you.”

“You are sick,” my voice falters.

“And you love it.”

I do not only hate him now, I am disgusted by him. I want to get as far away from him as possible and scrape off every inch of skin he has ever touched on my body.

“Fuck you, Sam.” I finally say. “This is over. We are fucking over and I dont ever want to see you again.”

I don’t wait for another response or for him to even process the words that I just threw at him. I just turn around and leave him standing there.

I feel a stinging sensation in my eyes as my steps quicken with each stride until I am practically running down the street. I only stop when I feel my phone vibrating in my back pocket. My hands reach for it, and I manage to finally breathe again when I see Ellie’s name on the display.

“Hey,” Ellie’s voice shrills through the phone.

“Ellie,” my voice trembling with emotion.

“What happened?”

“Sam happened.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”