Are You Ready To Wake Up?
It was okay to be a few minutes early but being this early was out right unfashionable. The room before him was completely empty. Oh well, he would survive this “faux pas”. In the academic setting he rarely worried about how he appeared to others. To be clear: he was always going to look nice. Today for example, he wore a medium washed pair of Saint Laurent jeans, a pale pink button up shirt courtesy of his mother’s new fashion line, and matching gray shoes and blazer both from a Michael Kors collection.
His hair was also purposely styled to show they he gave effort but not “too much” effort. Whatever that was. He would always give a large amount of weight to his physical appearance but his social appearance tended to take a back seat when he was in the world of writing or between the walls of a school building. Here he relaxed and let his work do all the talking.
Blaise took a seat towards the back of the room and set his brown leather satchel next to him. According to his phone, he still had about twenty minutes to kill before anyone showed up. He really should have stopped for a coffee before he came. In fact, he had enough time to enjoy a good pairing of espresso and biscotti. He rarely passed up the chance to munch on a pastry coffee combo and of course today just had to be one of those occasions.
Determined not to wallow in his awkwardly earliness, he rummaged through his satchel until he emerged with an eyeglass case and a book of The Best American Essays. This class was assigned the 2016 edition as one of its required reading texts but the one Blaise held in his hands was an older edition, a little worn, from the year in which he himself was a student in his class.
Back when he was undecided, his parents gunned for something practical like accounting or business but in his gut he knew those weren’t the right fit. It wasn’t until he thumbed through the pages of this essay book, highlighting and jotting little notes, did he realize that writing was the path he should take. It seemed fitting that on the day he turned from student to master that he would do so with this book in hand.
Blaise slid on his reading glasses and proceeded to dive into his book. The glasses were a fairly new bi-product of aging. He was not yet thirty but his near perfect vision insisted on decaying. In the back of an abandoned lecture hall, Blaise could afford to care more about the content of his book than how dorky he looked in his new spectacles. He managed to get through a whole essay before he a vibration from his cell phone pulled him back into the real world.
Adam Everett has uploaded a new photo to Facebook
Blaise smirked knowingly at the notification. His cousin Adam rarely posted on social media and when he did it was usually about his budding romance with a silver haired guy named Spencer. Although he teased his cousin relentlessly about being a hopeless romantic, Blaise himself could not help rooting for two people in true love. He clicked on the notification to see the latest “Spadam” adventure.
Once the notification was opened, several thumbnails of photos flooded the phone screen. The “new photo” of interest was actually a part of a photo set entitled “Hot Chocolate Rune Winter 5k” which contained about twelve photos. Scoff. Prior to Spencer, Adam was definitely not a photoset type of person. Still, Blaise continued down the rabbit hole of sappiness and clicked on the first picture of the set. It was a selfie of sweaty damp haired Adam and the flawless silvered haired Spencer just after Adam finished his race. The next photo was one of Adam by himself holding his racing number and the photo after showed him just as he was crossing the finish line. Most of the remaining photos alternated between the race itself and cute selfies of the happy couple. The second to last photo, however, featured a group picture with Adam and his friends including...Troi Bentley
Pining: An Interlude (Draft One)
ive feet away from me you stand. A goodbye on your lips you need not to utter because the remnants of the last goodbye still echo in my ears. Please stay right where you are so we can be suspended in a world in which I don’t have to watch you turn away. I don’t want to see your disappearing act again. Especially if this is the grand finale and you will never return to this stage. I do not know if I can bare to end this show. I do not know if I can bare to see you with a different leading man by your side...Five feet away from me you stand. You make it seem so far...
The words to an old piece of prose poured into Blaise’s head as he took in a picture of its muse. A refined draft of this piece appeared in his senior portfolio years ago, but the words embossed in his brain were from the original version. Blaise jotted down draft one after a particularly ominous evening with Troi Bentley. Somehow that night was not the complete end and they found themselves drifting back toward each other again and again.
This photo of Troi and Vinny emphasized there would be no return to Troi this time. Or ever. Blaise figured their permanent ending was ultimately for the best. After all, the pining boy needed to be set free and the disappearing boy needed to go back to the one person who could make him stay and remain visible. Blaise paused on the picture for a couple of more beats until he digested this odd feeling that was not quite jealousy.
“Mr. Monroe?” A familiar female voice called for Blaise’s attention. He looked up to see Ms. Elizabeth Martin standing a few feet away from him. The perfect subject on which to purge the words that still clouded his brain.
“Five feet away from me you stand…” Blaise started, “ Please stay right where you are. Let’s stay suspended in a world in which I don’t have to watch your eyes flicker away as they allude to your impending disappearance…” He stood and walked towards her as he recited what he remembered from a slightly newer draft of his prose. When made sure to finish bridging the gap between them just as his piece also came to an end.
Ms. Martin stared at him in contemplation until something clicked. “‘Pining: An interlude?” she asked.
“I knew you were in love with me,” Blaise smirked. “What kind of TA can hear random lines from a student’s work and still identify the piece years later?”
“One who has a substantial memory,” Ms. Martin retorted and turned to take her place at the podium in front of the room. Blaise went back to retrieve his items as well as to cast his reading glasses into hiding. With all his belongings properly organized, he claimed a new spot near Ms. Martin as other mentors and students began to come in.
“As I was saying, it is okay to admit you had a crush on me. You aren’t my TA anymore. I promise you won’t get in trouble.” Blaise’s teasing solicited a subtle eye roll from Ms. Martin. She was not particularly upset or annoyed as much as eye rolling felt like a perfectly natural response to Blaise’s nonsense. “C’mon Liz. You’re attractive, I’m attractive. You’re intelligent. I’m intelligent. We’ve both got the writing thing going on. It’s only natural. Let me take you out to dinner- lunch even. And if you can resist me by the end then fine we’ll still have our great working relationship.”
Ms. Martin, the multi-tasker, had been using the time during Blaise’s monologue to finalize the list of mentor/mentee pairings. She peered over at him from the list once his rambling had came to an end. “You know Mr. Monroe...I am seeing Larry.” She was sure mentioning Lawrence Fisher, a new professor within the English department with whom she went on numerous dates over the past couple of months, would force Blaise to take things down a notch. She should have known better.
“Larry, oh right. He can come too. You know I swing both ways,” he playfully winked at Ms. Martin.
“And that is my queue to get things started.” A somewhat embarrassed Ms. Martin turned her attention toward the classroom that now had full attendance. After a brief introduction and some further instructions she began to call out pairings. “Mr. Joshua Depola and Mr. Blaise Monroe…”
Blaise smiled and scanned the room for his match. Luckily, even without a raised hand, Joshua would have stood out. There were only a few male students taking the class and no one else had such a rich orange-red set of locks. He gave a nod to acknowledge the raised hand and Ms. Martin continued to call out the pairings. But wait, had she really said Joshua Depola or was it his discovery of the unsettling picture earlier that was warping his perception. He would find out soon enough. Either way, he would also make sure to approach the kid with an open mind. It was his duty as a mentor.
One all of the pairings were announced, Blaise collected his bag, thanked Ms. Martin for putting up with him, and headed over to where his mentee was sitting. Up close, the younger male was a little cuter than expected and had an aura of...broodiness maybe. Not to worry, Blaise encountered many broody types in his world of art and writing.
“Hi, I’m Blaise Monroe,” he introduced himself and extended his hand for a handshake. “Can I buy you a coffee? I have a good place in mind that is not too far from here.” Getting to know his mentee while sipping coffee at his favorite cafe seemed like a win-win.
