by E. S. Mercer
Chapter III
The rain pelted the dirty glass panes that made up the roof of our modest loft, making our first night on campus a long one. Lying awake, I couldn’t help but stare at the bare walls and play the events of the evening over and over in my head. Since waking up from my attempted overdose, I had never really felt like myself and the strange man’s questions, coupled with Ksenia’s response, made me more and more unsure of myself.
“Zara, Zara are you awake?” I asked my sleeping roommate. Seeing that she was face down in her pillow, snoring soundly, I knew the answer to the question, but I really needed to talk to her.
“Zara,” I said again, hoping she would hear me across the room.
“UGH, What!?” she grumbled, wiping drool from her cheek. “It’s late Ness…I’m tired.”
“I know,” I said, sitting up in bed. “I’m sorry. I just need to ask you a question.”
“It can’t wait til tomorrow?” she griped.
“Not really,” I answered, fluffing my blankets. “I can’t sleep.” As I waited for her to answer, I couldn’t help but notice the shadows dancing on the white brick walls around us. There were no trees above us, only the metal frames that held the roof together and a catwalk that ran around the entire room, casting a grid of shadows against the walls. These oddities seemed to dance in between those, almost as if they were stalking the darkness as they made haste towards the corners.
“What the hell was that?” I gasped as one distinctly human shaped shadow stopped at the end of the moonlight. “Ok, ok I’m up!” Zara said, flinging herself into a sitting position. “What is so important?”
When she did, the shadow turned its head to look back at her and dove into the shade in the far corner of the room.
“What did he want from me?” I asked, keeping my eye on the darkness. “What was he looking for in my head?”
“Who?” she asked, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
With one eye still on the shadows, I glanced over at her. “The man, the one that Ksenia was afraid of.”
“Never seen him before,” she said, leaning back on the wall. But I knew she was lying. I could feel it.
“I know you are lying,” I said, feeling the rain start to drip through the glass roof to my head.
“I’m not…” she started. She stopped herself, however, when she realized that she knew that I knew she was.
I sat and waited for her to finish as the rain started now hitting both our beds. It was less of a drip at this point and more like a steady pour. “Oh, my god…you’ve got to be kidding me,” she yelled, jumping out of her bed. She was now drenched and so was I. “Quick, get something to catch the rain!”
I started running across the room to grab the two tiny little pots we had, when I slipped in a puddle and fell hard on the splintered wood floors. In an attempt to finish what I started, Zara slipped and fell on top of me, the two of us laughing hysterically.
“Do you think maybe we should move the beds before they get worse?” she asked between laughs.
“I would,” I answered, looking over at my already bruising hip, “but I don’t think I can move!” “Big baby!” She chided as she jumped up, reaching out her hands. I grabbed a hold of her, starting to pick myself up when I saw the same phantom shadow bolt across the room again.
“There it is!” I yelled, spinning her around.
“There is what?” she asked, “I don’t see anything!” Truth is, I believed her that time. I could see it plain as day and it seemed to realize that I had. Freezing at the edge of the darkness, I could see it melt into the other shadows slowly.
“Come on,” she said, pushing her bed out of the way, “move your bed, strip the sheets and let's just crash on the couch. You obviously need to get some sleep.”
And I tried, believe me I tried, but between the two of us squeezed on the tiny torn green velvet couch and the shadow who seemed to haunt me, I barely dozed off at all.
***** When morning came, we could finally see a little more of our loft, a place we had never really seen in the daylight. It was exquisitely run down, with an invasive ivy, strangling the metal railings of the catwalk that lined the place. The brick, white washed and old, shed its paint under the years of water leaks and lack of use.
The kitchen was no more than a lonely vintage porcelain sink atop an orange cabinet, that leaned a little into the powder blue icebox to its right. A makeshift shower to the left of the sink, used a hose that you could attach to the kitchen faucet when in use. It didn’t have a shower curtain yet, but we would make due. The only separate room was the one that held the toilet, and that, had a glass door facing right into the center of the loft. It was a rather large room with the stairs to the cat walk, sitting awkwardly over the toilet.
As run down as it was, even with the water stained and creaky hardwood flooring, it was still leagues above the apartment Leland and I had. It had a personality that would mesh well with ours, allowing us to comfortably make this place our new home. Soon we would fill it with more than just the clothes we had in our bag and sense of adventure we had in our hearts.
***** Pushing a broom around large empty classrooms wouldn’t have been most people’s idea of a good time but I sure made the best of it.
I owned the nights, going from each empty room, cranking up the music and dancing with my new wooden partner. Twirling around and shaking my ass like a girl in a rap video, I would try to sing along with songs I hadn’t quite learned the words to yet while, gladly making a fool of myself. Only the shadows watched as each dance session would end in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
For the first time in my life, I felt free. I felt a joy that I didn’t think was possible. It wasn’t because I was in the forefront of the happenings around campus, or even running around with a group of friends. Truth is, with work, I didn’t do much else. I just felt like I actually belonged there.
There was an energy that I could feel flowing around me, that brought me great comfort. Not only could I feel it, but occasionally, I swear I could see it in a beautiful array of colors, bouncing off the specks of dust I would knock off the shelves. When it hit the sun just right, it would sparkle like grains of glitter all around me. I would breathe it in, over and over again and when I expelled air, I would feel infinitely better each time.
I didn’t see much of Zara for the first few weeks we were there. Working in the kitchen meant she would get up before dawn and work until after dinner time. I, being the only janitor on duty worked from dusk to dawn, making sure classrooms were ready for the next day.
Mr. Crater was not only the only janitor on campus before my arrival, but he was also the only maintenance man. For a University as large as this one, you would expect a maintenance team, but Mr. Crater had been here for so long, he refused to let anyone else touch his buildings. He knew them inside and out, and was more than likely sitting in the hospital, cussing me out for doing his job. Apparently shortly before we arrived, they found him in the cafeteria, slumped over in a chair, holding on to the mop head and refusing to accept the fact that he was suffering from a heart attack. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have been able to sweep a floor, never mind run the entire department.
Every day for me was the same – work, eat and sleep. Again, I didn’t mind it, although it was definitely a task. I was rarely able to change up my routine, however, on this particular day, I found a way.
My day ended shortly before 5am, allowing me to catch breakfast in the dining hall before heading home to crash. Most days I would grab a quick snack and head to bed, but this specific morning I decided to stick around and eat a full meal. I was dying for a little time with Zara and hoped to find out how her life was going.
“You will not believe how many friends I have made here,” she said putting my tray down in front of me. “I feel like I am part of the group,” she continued. “They are great! You would love them.”
“Friends?” I asked between sips of my coffee. “The students o
r the staff?”
“Both,” she said picking off my plate, sitting down across from me. “Everyone is so friendly around here.” “Not me,” I said, playing with the food on my plate. I was so tired from working all night and even Zara’s presence couldn’t keep the voices away. They were so loud, I couldn’t think straight enough to even question why I decided to stay there and eat.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, reaching over and touching my arm. “I forget how isolated you are at night. I didn’t mean to upset you.” I didn’t mean to ignore her, but I could hear one of the voices stronger than the rest. At first I couldn’t tell what he was saying, but after a while, his voice stood out enough for me to hear. Whomever he was thinking about, made his heart beat just a little bit faster and gave him a rush I could now feel in my entire body.
"She looks just like her," I heard the voice say. "It can’t be though. She wouldn’t be here. It can’t be,” he kept saying, over and over again. I looked up from my plate, trying to see if I could locate where the voice was coming from, but at first glance I saw nothing but Zara waving her hand in my face.
“Seriously Ness…where do you go when you are like this?” “Huh?” I asked, looking past her. “What are you talking about?”
She turned to look in the direction I was looking in. “What are you looking at?
"Stay away Ryan. Stay away.” I heard the mysterious inner voice say.
“I’m hearing voices again,” I said, scrunching my face as I brought my focus back to her. “I haven’t heard them in a while.”
“Maybe because you are just too tired,” she said, pushing my coffee cup closer to me. “You need to get some sleep.”
“Do you think I am just crazy?” I asked her, taking a sip.
“Maybe a little,” she chuckled, picking more food off my plate. “I’ve always thought you were a little off.”
“Oh thanks,” I said, looking around as I heard him again.
"Leave Ryan. It’s not her. Just leave it alone and leave.” This time, I locked eyes with a man whose reaction made it clear he was the one I could hear. As soon as he saw me looking back at him, I could feel his mind go blank. It was if he knew I could hear him and shut me out. But I couldn’t help but continue to stare at him. He was slightly older than me, but he had a lingering youthfulness that mixed very well with his ruggedly outstanding looks. Beneath the thick 5’oclock shadow, rounded spectacles, bow tie and his tussled dark hair, you could see a man that should have made a living as a model rather than a professor. His sweater vest clung so perfectly to his blue plaid shirt that you could see how fit he actually was. Tall with a slender build, he was not a man of large muscles or strength, but you could tell underneath that shy exterior was a man who was perfectly sculpted in every way.
It was like I was staring at Clark Kent, yet knowing in my gut he was really Superman. At least that was what I imagined while my crazed little mind went hysterical. I had no idea who he was fretting about, but I could feel an odd fear radiating off him as he gathered up his things.
“Who the hell is that hottie?” Zara asked, as she followed my gaze.
I turned to answer her, missing the fact that he had gotten up and scurried out of the room. “I, I have…” I stuttered. He was gone, but I could still feel whatever he was feeling and it felt like a longing and desire that only one who was madly in love and equally heartbroken could feel.
"Oh, well, anyway,” she said, getting up from the table. “My new friends want us to go out this weekend. See the town. Do you think the old man will be back soon so you can get the night off?”
“Probably,” I said, stabbing at the table with my fork. I was so preoccupied that I didn’t notice Zara pulling the tray away from me.
“Go to bed,” she said laughing. “We will talk about plans later. Just know that we are going out this Friday night.”
“Ok,” I said, handing her my fork. “I think I need to head to bed.” She laughed, waving me off, as I stumbled out the door and straight to our loft to catch a couple hours of sleep. It would have been longer, but I got a call from Mr. Crater, who was now back in his office and handing out assignments.
“There is a spill in Professor Renaldi’s room in the Literary Art’s building,” he said in a gruff and slightly annoyed voice. “I am back as of today but I am in no mood to get the mop myself, so I need you to go clean it up.”
I was reluctant since I had not gotten enough sleep to consider myself rested, but knowing that he was back, meant my hours were about to be reduced, and that gave me the motivation I needed to get up.
I put my coveralls over my pajama boxers and wife beater, tying the arms around my waist as I made my way to the Literary Arts building across campus. I pulled my hair up into a messy bun and plugged my headphones in my ear, making a beeline for the janitors closet on the first floor. Between my exhaustion, concentration on the tune in my ears and not really caring about anything else, I started humming loudly as I bust through the classroom door.
I was so used to working at night that I forgot that classrooms were full at this hour. I had walked in backwards, pushing the door open with my tush, so I didn’t realize that there was an entire classroom of English students sitting there watching everything I did. It wasn’t until a familiar feeling shot through me that I realized I wasn’t alone. I whipped around to see the students laughing, as the professor stood silently staring at me.
“Oh, my god, I am so sorry,” I said, pulling my headphones out of my ears. “I didn’t realize the room was occupied.”
I looked again and realized it was the man I had seen that morning. “Wait. You are Professor Renaldi?” “It’s, it’s ok,” he stuttered, walking out from his podium. “Yes, I am.” You could see a little more confidence in him while he stood there directing me to the large puddle of coffee at the base of his podium. A puddle, thanks to a careless student who unapologetically dropped her cup at the base of the tiered class room, leaving it for someone else to clean up.
I crabbed a towel bent down to soak up the coffee. “I am Ryan Renaldi and I would have gotten it if I the mop wasn’t locked up,” he whispered to me, in a thick, unidentifiable accent, as he crouched down to shake my hand. “It wasn’t necessary that you come all the way down here on your time off.” He stood up and grabbed the mop to clean up what was left.
“Really, you don’t have to do that,” I said, reaching out to grab the mop from him. “And I am Anessa…” I paused as to look down at my name tag. I realized, Ksenia had made up my last name and I never bothered to see what it was. “You can just call me Anessa.”
As I grabbed the mop handle, our hands touched for a second causing him to flinch. “I’m sorry,” he said, backing away from me. “Um, the students are waiting, so I should get back to teaching.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I said, looking at the quiet audience sitting above us. They were enjoying the scene before them, a little too much.
“Oh no, please continue,” a smart-ass co-ed blurted. “We have all the time in the world.” For two people who had just met, we were obviously giving off a vibe that everyone could feel and they wanted to see where this would end up. But, to their disappointment, the Professor quickly decided to dismiss me, thanking me for a job well done.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed as I backed out of the door. “I’m really sorry.” I couldn’t tell what he was apologizing for, but that sense of fear and longing laid thick as I lingered in the hall. I could feel him wishing for me to come back, and yet, having no excuse to ask me to do so.
“Oh wow!” I said to myself, as I pushed the mop bucket down the hall. “He’s thinking about me!”
I could hear him once again trying to convince himself that I wasn’t the girl he thought I was.
“Does he know me?” I asked out loud. I stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned back around, leaving all my gear to fend for itself. I had a sudden urge to interrupt him again and ask him why he felt that way around me. Maybe he knew
me in my past life and I just couldn’t remember him.
Yet, why would Melody, with her lifestyle, know a Literary Professor from another District.
When I made it back to his room and looked through the door, he wasn’t at the podium.
“No,” he said from behind me. “I don’t know you.” He stepped a bit closer to me, stuttering a bit as he tried to collect his thoughts. “And whatever you were coming back to say, please don’t say it,” he continued. “Whatever you feel coming from me is only because you remind me of someone I once knew.”
“But you don’t know me?” I asked, leaning up against the cold metal door.
He thought of his answer for a moment, pulling his glasses off his face to clean them as he refused to look me in the eye.
“No, no I don’t think so,” he said, putting his glasses back on his face. “I thought you were someone else…that’s all.”
He pushed past me so slightly as to reach for the door knob. As he did, his arm brushed against me and I could feel how much he was shaking.
"You just remind me so much of her, it makes me feel...off,” he said, feeling my skin on his.
“Do you wish I was her?” I asked, trying to keep him out there a little longer.
“More than ever,” he said, letting go of the door. “But you are not her and I really have to go.” I could have pushed the issue, but I could see how distraught my presence was to him, so I chose to move away from the door, leaving him alone. Maybe I really did just look like someone from his past. Why make him relive it again? And whoever she was, he really must have loved her. The vibe I got from him was strong - gut wrenching, tear inducing strong.
But, I did everything I could to avoid the Professor for the next few days. As intrigued as I was by the whole thing, what he felt was a bit too much for me to handle. You could feel the heartbreak he felt as he longed for something he knew he was missing out on. With Mr. Crater back, steering clear of him was easy to do. The old man’s generosity, however short lived as it was going to be, allowed for me to have a few days off to myself. My work was above board, according to him and he had no choice but to reward my efforts by taking back ‘his’ campus.
