Relevance

“When?” I repeated myself when Scott took a long pause, when his eyes looked at mine as though I already knew the answer to that question. I fought every ounce of my body to not repeat myself again.

Scott lowered his head and shook it ever so slightly. “I better go, it’s getting late,” he tried to smile, but it came across as a lip twitch. “I had a great time, see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” I gave him a smile as disappointing as his.

He turned around with hands shoved into his pockets and walked into the elevator. I watched him until he disappeared.

I remained frozen in the hallway. It felt as though every strength I had vanished, and suddenly my body felt heavy and knackered. I unlocked the door and stepped inside the room, throwing my shoes and purse on the floor, unbothered to turn the lights on. As I closed the door, I placed my back against the cold, wooden door and slid down to the floor.

My nose burned as I swallowed the tears. I’m not going to cry, I told myself. That’d be too pathetic even for me. My mind raced with pictures all of the moments I shared with Scott, trying to find out the answer to the question I had begun to despise. I came up short. I rested my head on my hands when I felt the room spin.

“It was second year.” His voice shattered the silence. I turned my head to the door, wondering whether he stood behind it or I was going mad. But he continued, his whisper loud enough to hear. “A couple of months before you decided to drop out, we spent the night at the library. You were helping me,” he let out a low, hearty chuckle, “because I sucked at calculous.” I smiled at the memory.

“Someone called and you left early. I stayed behind to study some more, but I didn’t do any studying.” I heard him slump down against the door. “I just sat there and thought about things. I thought about the test on Friday and whether I’d fail it, I thought about soccer practice,” he paused, “I thought about you. Like I had times before. And then I thought about Sam and whether he’d been the one who called you.”

I remembered that evening as clearly as Scott did. Sam, at that time my soon-to-be college boyfriend, had called me. He told me he was waiting for me with pizza and a couple of rented movies. I had wanted to stay with Scott, but I knew I had to go. I needed to move on—I knew I couldn’t wait for someone who didn’t even know I was waiting for him to begin with. So I picked up my things and headed back home, even though I wished I had stayed.

“I didn’t know the answer to that, so I picked up my things and headed to your house. At that point I was so out of myself,” he laughed, “I didn’t even know what I’d tell you when I got there. And when I cut the engine of my car with a hand itching to knock on your door, I thought about you once more.

“I thought about how things would work out when I screwed up. I knew I would be the one to screw up and when that did happen—it was only a matter of time—you wouldn’t handle the sight of me, and I wouldn’t handle the absence of you.”

The tears I had been holding got a tad closer to the surface. With blurry eyes, I clenched my jaw as hard as I could to keep them at bay.

“I sucked then,” I listened to the sound of his steps as he stood up, “And that’s fine. I was a crappy person back then. I didn’t have much to offer. Years later, I might still be a crappy person, but I don’t want to suck now,” he paused, waiting for a response, for a sound, for anything. But I didn’t know what to say, so I remained silent.

“Alright,” he whispered, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

After he left, I took numerous deep breaths in and out to calm my fast beating heart and my rushed mind. I sat in the dark for a few moments later, processing his words. He was still a bit of a crappy person. He was crappy when he kissed a stranger against a wall and in an airplane. He was crappy when he wasn’t around. He was crappy, but he hadn’t always been this way. There was a time when he wasn’t crappy and I knew that although I couldn’t change him, that version of Scott existed. And I was in love with that version of him.

I forced myself to stop thinking about the matter—a headache was threatening to arrive if I didn’t do so. Instead, I took a long, steamy shower to wash the day off. What a long one it had been.

A knock on the door startled me when I was brushing my washed hair. Everyone should be asleep by now, including myself. The clock marked one on the dot, and I hoped my eye bags wouldn’t be visible when I had to be up in five hours.

I tightened the belt of my robe as I walked to open the door and before I even completely opened it to see who was on the other side, a voice spoke up.

“I’m from Arizona,” he began, leaning on the door frame. “I can’t remember ever being short, I must’ve been this tall as a child,” he slowly laughed at himself, revealing his drunken state. “I really like driving. I own a pick-up truck that’s more beaten down than my shoes. Here’s a kicker,” he laughed once again, “my middle name’s,” he couldn’t speak over his laughter and I couldn’t resist but laugh at his silly laughter. “My middle name’s Cornelius,” he held a finger up to his mouth to prevent himself from laughing any longer, “but I assure you my mother loves me.

“I’ve been to every state in America, my favourite’s Tempe, every time. I own more sunglasses than underwear, is that troubling?” he seemed to be asking himself. “I’ve never been in a relationship, too much of a hassle, I travel a lot. I’ve been to every state in America, my fav—“

“Okay,” I spoke with a trace of laughter behind my voice, “c’mon, let’s get you inside.”

I wrapped my arm around his thin waist and helped him reach the bed. In this state, I had no idea how he managed to get to my room on his own. I went back to close the door while John sprawled himself on the bed, immediately kicking off his shoes. I turned on one of the nightstand lamps and switched the main lights off.

There were extra linens in the wardrobe, so I picked up a blanket for myself from there and a pillow from the bed, placing them on the couch near the fireplace. Whilst doing so, John continued to babble about himself.

“I collected baseball cards as a kid, but I never liked watching the sport. Oh, I like to drink. I reeeeally like to drink. My favourite scotch, any kind as long as it’s on the rocks. I don’t like Red Bull, might give you wings but it tastes and looks like piss. I’ve got two brothers, all nuggets. I’m the handsomest of them all of course.”

I smiled at his lack of humbleness even when inebriated. I got settled in the couch and when my head hit the pillow, the day’s toll weighed down on me. Closing my eyelids, which were heavy with slumber, felt like the greatest feeling in the world. John continued his ramble, but I was too tired to pay any attention to his words.

All I knew was that I was glad the day was over, and glad that John was here. I fell asleep to the sound of John singing a song I never heard of.