"We don't just have today; tomorrow will be like yesterday for us," Danny said, adding, "We will always be together."
I'm not used to Danny yet; our love is still growing. Every day, I remind myself of my wonderful boyfriend. I met him at the start of this second school year—two months of bliss. I just borrowed a pen, but it didn't end with that simple incident. It was followed by him asking me to explain a lecture on theatrical directing... precisely a week later. It's a subject that troubles me so much I sometimes wish I hadn't entered the Arts college at (Carlsson) University. But this is better than fulfilling my father's wish for me to be a doctor.
I return to Danny, with his bronze complexion, perfect jawline, and blue eyes that managed to attract half the girls in this city. Not satisfied with his movie-star looks, he decided to take up basketball as a hobby, making it inevitable for girls to fall for my Denz. They would eye me with envious glances all along the path we walked together every day, which made me look fantastic. He chose me, the Latina brunette (on my mother's side). But my love for him doesn't blind me to our obvious differences in interests... my love for music, books, and all things old contrasts sharply with his immense passion for sports and action-thriller movies. I would have loved, for instance, to talk about Thomas Kyd, George Amado, or even Conan Doyle... but he hates reading. At least we share not understanding abstract art paintings, though I adore drawing. But everything in its own place.
I was looking out the window when a confident, husky female voice interrupted me. "What's with you daydreaming like that?"
I recognized the voice of Celine, my friend since the start of this year. She sat down in her delicate sweater that highlighted her harmonious, alluring curves, and jeans that emphasized her long legs. She swept her chestnut hair away from her oval, pale face.
I answered, "I'm thinking of taking a walk in the park. The weather seems nice."
I said, pushing a strand of my black hair away from my eyes after the wind moved it, feeling I had lost a part of my femininity the moment Celine sat in front of me.
"Well, let's order iced coffees and go," she replied.
But my cell phone's ringtone interrupted my plan.
"It must be the blond-haired guy. One can never tire of looking at him, right?" she continued.
I smiled shyly. "Yes, it's him. Order while I answer." I moved away from the table to hear Danny's voice clearly on the phone. "Hello, how are you?"
"Hey, where are you?!" His voice held suppressed anger.
I answered, "Are you okay? I'm at the café entrance. I'm going out for a walk with Celine."
He replied, "Alright, leave her and come to corridor six. I need to talk to you for a minute."
"Did you miss me that much?...."
He hung up before I finished speaking. 'Strange, he must be angry about something.' I wasn't paying attention as I walked after telling Celine I was leaving, and I almost fell. Then I noticed the looks from those around me.
I went to the restroom. There was nothing to fear; everything was in place. The light pink lipstick whose softness matched my features, my hazel almond-shaped eyes. Neither my gray pants nor my mustard-yellow sweater were attention-grabbing.
I never liked drawing attention to myself, especially regarding my body, but the students' eyes kept devouring me like a hungry wolf. I even heard whispers from scattered groups all along the way. "Isn't that her?" "No, it is her." "It must be a girl who looks like her." Who is she, and what did she do?And when I saw Danny and hurried to meet him in the nearly empty corridor, he told me, redness covering his temples like a fever, "Aren't you being too calm?"
Just then, two young men passed by, and one said, "Do you want to borrow my house for the night? It's empty."
"What the hell... Shut up, you idiot!" Danny said.
Consumed by curiosity, I asked, "What's happening? Why are you angry?"
A short, nervous laugh escaped him. "What's with these expressions? Seems you don't know what happened yesterday!"
I remembered yesterday. It was a hot, sunny day, and we had a short break after my sculpture class. He and I went up to dry the sculptures on the college's private rooftop. He took my hand to a shady spot, and we exchanged a few frantic kisses, charged with all the heat surrounding our shaded spot, like any young lovers.
"Nothing happened except a few kisses between us. What about yesterday?" I said.
He shouted in a lowered voice, "Didn't you check your damn account yesterday... They posted a video of what happened on the rooftop between us!"
The news tore through my eardrums and made me stand rigid like a ruler. "What are you going to do now?!"
These private moments shouldn't be known by anyone but us. How could they film us and post this without my or his permission! And where, in this city that's like a village where everyone knows each other? Rumors will spread about us doing such things or more secretly at the university... or maybe worse. People will think universities are hubs for dirty deeds and illicit relationships, even though all this and more exists... but in secret... It has always been in secret... Bribery, threats, intimidation, fraud—they all exist, but not in broad daylight. Bad things belong to the night, or perhaps the night attracts bad things.
Danny and I stood facing each other. He said what I thought he would say: "Let's break up, or stay away from each other for a while."
The impact of his words wasn't as painful as I expected, or perhaps because I knew what he was thinking. Still, I tried to reject the idea: "Why would we do that? We didn't do anything wrong."
"But can you bear people's looks towards us? If you were capable of that... I am not."
Anger overtook me. "But everyone gets to have romance!"
"But not on the college rooftop, and not in the appalling way the photographer tried to show it. We can't stay; all our peers know, and they'll make us a laughingstock."
"So you're abandoning me now," I said, wrestling with the thoughts in my head.
"Goodbye, Juliet," he said this and left... leaving behind a sea of thoughts slowly drowning me and memories rushing like waves crashing against me.
After absorbing the fact that I was in trouble, I went to the restroom and began to remember our first date. I was thinking of our happy moments together. Our first date when I explained the lesson to him, and we then started talking about our lives until we felt in sync. The next day, he asked me to have dinner with him. Our first kiss was by the window in his room while I read the title of his favorite album and we listened to the song "Lost in Japan." I looked in the mirror; a tear burned my eye, but I quickly wiped it and started reinforcing the black around my lashes to cover my weakness. This feeling of being powerless to do anything, things I can't forget. I felt lost and tried to pull myself together. I looked in the mirror and said, "Don't cry, darling. You're still young, and life hasn't tormented you enough yet. We'll stay calm. Don't forget we've been through worse." I talked to myself and remembered the death of my beloved, warm Latina mother, as if she left me to remind the world of her after her departure. I inherited her eye color and shape, her hair and skin color. We would have been twins had death not taken her three years ago. She was brave, and so I must be. I addressed myself in the mirror: "First, I didn't know what to do, but I must get to my class now."
I walked quickly, ignoring my feelings and everything around me, and arrived on time. There was no room for anyone to talk to me—exactly what I wanted—and I was the first to leave as well.