Cast & Fall (5 page)

“
Welcome
Everyone…I would like to introduce you to Dr. Harris.”
The announcement was loud, but I could hardly pay attention to the
words. With conscious effort, I tried to shun the stranger and fixed
my eyes on a tall, dark figure behind the podium.

But
barely a second passed, from the corner of my eye, I could still see
the tight strain from his perfectly curved jaw line, the obvious heat
of anger in his mysterious eyes under his perfectly coiffed but
somehow disheveled hair. I tried to look at the other students to see
if they were noticing anything unusual about the stranger in the
room—but they were all seemingly unaware of what was obvious to
me—it was as if, they were not seeing him the way I do. Not
even one pair of eyes gazed in his direction. I began to stiffen even
more. I turned my head sharply away from him, not wanting to see the
burning coldness of his stare.

As
I sat on the hard, low backed wooden chair, I shifted on the seat’s
edge, feeling the sort of panic that wasn’t logical but very
much real. Suddenly, I felt the vibration of my own body, trickling
down to the tips of my toes and fingers—an unknown fear that I
couldn’t quite describe. I felt like bolting out of the room,
but my mind fought the desire to move—like I was frozen in
time. I held my breath for long periods of time, trying to hold my
calm in place with each passing moment.

Looking
at the ticking clock, I continually waited for my heart to calm
down—waiting until the fear subside—but it didn’t.
I fought my unusual instinct and decided to study him further; he
wore a black long sleeve shirt with the same colored pants, his eyes
and expression—seeping with anger, his excruciatingly handsome
face—aggressive. He held his continued stare in place. I
retrieved mine again, feeling the heat moving toward my face as fear
struck me forcefully, giving me away—turning my face red hot.
My pulse sped, thumping in my ears.

All
of a sudden, I felt aware of everything. I’m not one to always
care about how other people thought of me, especially a stranger. I
consider myself a likeable person, but his obvious aggression toward
me made me question that. But it couldn’t be. He hardly knew
me. Whatever it was seemed to be personal. But why? The accident
earlier seemed too shallow to be the reason.

The
curiosity lingered on my mind throughout the hour. Coming out empty
handed, I decided to fix my thoughts on the objects across the room,
my mind consciously blocking the echoes of warning in the air. I
focused on my breathing for a very long time.

Finally,
everything was over. Hurrying to get away from the heated eyes
radiating from him, I ordered my feet and darted out in a sprint. I
was only too glad to pass the exit sign—finally feeling
relieved to be able to come out for air. I was still baffled by the
questions in my head—but I already made up my mind that this
gorgeous stranger hated me, but for what reason…was still a
mystery that I probably would never find out. I sighed—whether
it was relief or something else…I couldn‘t really be
sure.

C
oming
home, I had picked up some groceries from the local supermarket. I
wasn’t a good cook, but I started practicing when I stumbled
upon my mother’s cookbook a couple of years back. I remembered
her
cooking—the
aroma of olive oil and garlic when she used to make my favorite
dish—crusted chicken pasta, and for dessert—home made
apple pie. I could never quite make it as good as
her
.
I don’t think anyone could. But making the dish made me a bit
closer to the time when I had a mother.

I
peeled and sliced the apples and along with my mom’s secret
recipe, piled them on top of the apple crust that I pre- made and
cooled the night before. Finally, I carefully placed the lattice on
top, securing the ends. I opened and placed the pie in the pre-heated
oven.

I
cleaned up some of the mess that had cluttered the counter top. I set
the table. Steve and I usually didn’t eat at the same time. It
wasn’t because I didn’t want to. It’s usually
because I like to eat several small meals throughout the day and by
the time Steve had gotten home, I’d already eaten an hour
before. But once in a while I would make an exception. I would cook
or bake something so that we can spend more time together. I guess in
my mind, I think it helps both of us get closer to the time when
there were the three of us.

I
heard the door open and then shut as I was draining the pasta and the
garlicky sauce was simmering.

“
Hmm,
smells really good…hi Sweetie,” Steve said in a husky,
famished voice. He usually got home around six thirty.

“
How
was your day? How was the seminar?” he asked pleasantly.

“
It
was fine, just a bit crowded today, but I found my way around. It‘s
really nice.” I didn’t want to talk about the stranger. I
decided that there was no point In bringing
up
the subject since I probably won’t be seeing him again. Steve
quickly sat down after he took off his shoes and washed his hands.

Placing
the cooled pasta with a drizzle of olive oil in a bowl, I brought it
to the table along with the piping hot creamy sauce and the slightly
chilled salad that was a left over from the night before.

“
I’m
really glad you decided to stay and go to Andrews. I like having you
around. It would be so quiet around here without you and your
friends. I’m not sure if I can get
used
to that.”

“
Well,
I’d miss you too, Dad.” The rest of our conversations
were about my future classes, College applications and Steve‘s
promotion.

After
we both had two generous slices of apple pie, I cleared the table,
washed the dishes and placed them on the rack to dry. I quickly ran
upstairs and drew a bath.

As
I was soaking in the warmth of lavender, the stranger entered my
thoughts again. I quickly tried to dismiss my curiosity, not wanting
to give any more thought into it. Instead, I reeled back into memory
how different my life was, four years ago.

“
Hey,”
I snapped. Samantha yanked a large cup of ice cold lemonade from my
hand. Her face sour. “Why do you like this stuff so much?”
Airi and Avril echoed together…“Are you kidding me, that
stuff is good.”

“
What
I wouldn’t do for a warm pretzel with a
cheezy
dip right now,” I sighed. Pretzels were our favorite afternoon
snack. Our eyes all lit up as we scoured for change in our purses.

“
Okay,
I got three dollars and eight quarters…so how much is that?”
Sue blurted, as she flicked the shiny coins from under her palms.

“
That’s
five dollars, Sue.”

“
I
knew that…I was just playing.” Scratching her head, she
smiled awkwardly.

“
Well,
I have six dollars. Airi handed me six dollar bills and placed them
on the table.

“
Here’s
eight.” Sam reached to dump the bills on the pot.

“
Okay,
whatever we’re short on, I’ll cover.” Jen rummaged
through her purse, pulled out a twenty and fanned it across her face
before dumping it with the other bills. Grabbing the pile, Sam got up
first. We followed her, as we all rushed out to the blinding
sunshine, crossing the street, we all headed to our favorite, popular
hang out café after school.

High
School seemed to have been the starting point for our friendship.
We’ve been inseparable since then. That’s the way we’ve
always been—seven girls and six guys had been the best of
friends.

Three
months ago, everyone graduated with the exception of Sue and I—that
was the month we all went to Brazil—exotic food and gorgeous
beaches. Not that we didn’t have enough beaches here. I never
thought anything could be greener than where I live, but it‘s
quite different there. We even learned a little samba. But the
biggest attraction was the rainforest—It was stunning—like
you‘re in a different world—full of many exotic animals
and wildlife. The macaw was my favorite, intelligent, strikingly
rich, colored creatures…I wanted so badly to slip one of them
in my suitcase.

Then,
there were the people; everyone could not stop talking about soccer.
El futbol was so popular that we all started watching the games when
we got back to the states.

A
month after that amazing vacation, we all went to Jen’s
parents’ beach house in California for two weeks. Her parents
had always been so nice. They packed their fridge and practically fed
us the whole duration of our stay. They came over almost every other
day to see what else we needed—although, a part of me was
pretty sure, that wasn’t the only thing they were checking up
on.

The
beach house was a 2,500 square feet home, sitting on a hill and below
the steps—long stretched sand gave way to the beautiful blue
waters. It had three bedrooms, a very spacious open living room and a
very generous size kitchen. In the middle, sat a massive granite
island counter with eight bar stools and several blue speckled glass
pendant lamps that hung from the ceiling. It had very modern
appliances and deep chocolate colored cabinets. The room extended to
a large open living room with two large sofas and two chairs. Fifteen
foot sliding doors, showcased the 180 degree panoramic ocean view. On
the east corner sat a bricked fire place. On the mantle, displayed
photographs of Jen’s family and some photos from their trips
and a picture of all of us. It was an amazing vacation. I miss Jen
already. Jen had short hair all through high school. She wore her
hair, clean and short.
She
was quite lovely and very funny.

Then,
there was Sam. Sam had large, slightly wavy hair and always clipped
her hair to the side like the glamour girls from the fifties. She
sometimes wore it long and straight. Both suited her. She had dark
hair, midway to her waist. Her eyebrows were well defined, perfectly
arched and full lips to match. Her olive eyes matched her skin tone
and she had the most amazing cheekbones to die for. Looking at her
made many people stare longer than usual; she looked like a
Victoria’s Secret model. Her parents were originally from
Brazil, but she had never visited until after high school. Her plane
tickets were a graduation present.

When
the idea came up that we all went, we all got so excited. We saved up
for a year and a half for our plane tickets. Sam’s parents paid
for a week’s vacation rental for all of us—two condos
with stunning ocean views. Sam was born in New Jersey and have moved
here when she was seven.

Suzanne
or we call her Sue, had straight, thin blond hair with the same
colored eye brows. She lined them with a brown pencil to take off the
paleness of her face. She was a bit heavy in middle school—no
one would know by looking at her now. Beginning of eight grade, she
usually wore her hair the same way and sometimes in a messy bun so
she didn’t need to deal with them. She also didn’t wear
any make up except for the brow pencil. By the time she was in high
school, she looked very different. She seemed to have blossomed
beautifully overnight.

Avril
was also blond. Her hair was thicker and fuller. She wore it long and
proud. She also had the longest legs—at 5’10 she was
taller than the rest of the girls. She was very athletic and played
volleyball all through high school. She had the most stunning green
eyes.

Then,
there’s Michella. She was petite. She always wore three to five
inch heels. She had black, medium length hair, straight and thick.
The five of us met her sophomore year. She and her family immigrated
from France. Avril had her in history class and decided that she
would be a great addition to our group. Avril had a French class and
having Michella as a friend—well that was just obvious.

Airi,
has thick, dark hair. It was long and slightly layered. She has
rounded, dolly eyes, small rounded lips and the sweetest face. Her
dimples showed when she smiled. Airi means, “Beloved Jasmine”
in Japanese. Her Great grandparents moved here from Japan after her
mother was born and had her and two other children. Eventually, they
moved back, but her parents stayed as well as the rest of the family.
She went there every summer to visit them and her other relatives. We
all loved it when she came back with all the trinkets of make up,
accessories, stuffed animals and the latest gizmos from Tokyo. I
loved the way she wore her make up and her sense of fashion was
always fresh and voguish. Her parents were friends with Sue’s
parents. They had gone to each other’s homes numerous times
that they’d become really close friends. Eventually, she became
our friend.

Then,
there was me. My long hair had never been longer nor shorter than my
waist. My parents met in College, got married, and had me two years
later. My mother had a difficult birth. She and Steve decided to only
have one child, and that was something that never really bothered me
at first. Being an only child had its perks. But when my mother died,
I wished I had a sister or even a brother.