All of my writing is fiction. For this story, I've borrowed some things from the life of a friend who suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder. I'm not approaching it as a medical expert or a clinician, but rather as a historian based on what I saw and heard. I hope you enjoy it and, please take the time to rate it and comment. It helps greatly with my writing.
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I didn't want to go to class.
So, what's new, right?
I mean, I'm a junior now and nipping away at cum laude, but going to class often meant waking up before nine o'clock. That was the case today. I was working to keep my eyes open, only partially successfully, and my roommate was trying to help.
"It's the first day of classes, Arch. I told you that you needed to get a summer job. Three months away from this has kinda spoiled you."
I heard through "Three months," and then things got a little fuzzy.
"Archie, wake up," Willie said a little louder than usual. "When's your first class?"
Managing to get one eye open, I said, "Not until nine."
"Well, Mr. Not Until Nine, it's now eighteen before nine."
That woke me up quickly because, despite my distaste for early rising, my penchant for punctuality was a controlling influence in my life, and I was out the door almost before Willy finished saying "nine."
It was a five-minute drive to the university, but lot number one was full, and parking in lot number two meant I'd be doing some running. Checking my watch as I ran told me I was just going to make it. I rounded the corner of Benton Hall when it happened.
I stepped on something, heard a squeal, and watched her sprawl to the ground, books and papers flying.
"Are you okay?" I grabbed a hand to help her stand. "I'm so, so sorry."
"I'm all right, and it's my fault," she said, looking at me with the most beautiful blue eyes I'd ever seen. "I was bloody stupid to wear flip-flops to school just for this reason."
Her glorious English accent had my heart beating a little faster. And I was nearly eye-to-eye with those amazing blue eyes of hers--she had to be six feet tall. We both dropped to hands and knees, gathering up books and papers--and I was being assaulted by the enticing aroma of her perfume.
"I'll do that," she said. "You need to get to your class."
"I caused this, and I'll stay till you have everything together."
She laughed, a delightful sound.
"It will take a lifetime for me to have everything together."
If she was inviting me to spend a lifetime with her, I was willing to give it a try. Silly boy.
"I have an English class, and I've heard the professor is usually late," she added.
"Seems you should have an American class, and I should have the English class, which I do, too. Can I help you carry some books or something?"
"Thank you, but I have them now. Let's hurry to class."
I held the door and followed her to the lecture hall, careful to avoid the flip-flops. We slipped through the door and noted that the lectern was unoccupied. I watched her eyes search the room. Finally spotting something or someone, she headed across the back of the lecture hall, me right behind as I planned to sit beside her if possible. Exhaling, she sat down, and I grabbed the empty seat beside her.
But she wasn't paying me a bit of attention, talking instead to the guy sitting on the other side. I could hear a little bit of the conversation--she was explaining why she was late to whoever he was. I debated about moving to another seat when he leaned forward and looked at me. At least he was smiling.
"I hear you knocked Sonia on her butt," he said with a laugh.
"Peter!" she said, cheeks reddening. "Don't be so cheeky."
"I'm so sorry. I was late and not paying attention, and..."
"It was my flip-flops, Peter, not..."
"Archie," I said, filling the void.
"...not Archie's fault."
The pink cheeks only seemed to enhance the blue eyes...and the blonde hair...and the devastating figure I'd just noticed while walking along behind her...and beside her. I was hoping that Sonia was about to introduce me to her brother, or cousin, or old family friend.
"I'm sorry, Archie. This is my boyfriend, Peter Trotter."
My whole world shriveled when I heard those six words. I extended my hand, though.
"Archer Doyle," I said, leaning across Sonia to shake hands with Peter, inhaling the scent of her perfume once again. Thank heaven the professor had arrived, and the lecture began.
It was quickly obvious that this English class could easily endanger my cum laude since it was nearly impossible to concentrate with Sonia so close. And even if she wasn't close, I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my eyes from searching her out. Twice she leaned toward me to whisper a funny remark about the lecture, the English-y sounds coupled with her warm breath tormenting me no end.
I adjusted my position so that I couldn't see Peter, which, in my fantasy, meant that he wasn't there. I did notice a scraped place on the wrist closest to me and pointed to it. She leaned close again and whispered.
"Pfft," she said. "I get lots more than that playing football or soccer."
The puff of warm breath that hit my ear made me close my eyes. This was ridiculous. She had a boyfriend sitting right next to her, and here I was, being tormented by every little thing she did. I told myself that boyfriends come, and then they go, and they weren't engaged or anything yet, so I kept my hopes alive, no matter how futile it seemed at the moment.
Class ended, and we stood to leave; both Sonia and Peter off to their ten o'clock classes. Sonia took hold of my arm.
"Don't feel badly about what happened," she said. "Because of it, I've made a new friend, so it wasn't bad at all."
Fortunately, I was free till eleven, so I could get a donut and cup of coffee and attempt to cool my jets a tiny bit--maybe a whole lot. I stopped at the bookstore on the way and bought a notebook and a pen since I'd run out of the house without grabbing the ones I already had.
I munched, and sipped, and did a lot of thinking--actually arguing with myself--about Sonia. I'd had a girlfriend my freshman year and one my sophomore year and was looking forward to a junior year girl as well. I'd found the perfect one on the first day of classes, but there was an impediment that was going to make it difficult to have Sonia be that girl. Unfortunately, there wasn't much I could do about it either.
I moped through the rest of my classes, keeping an eye out for Sonia, but with around fifty thousand students milling about on over fifteen thousand acres, I knew it wasn't likely to happen. Tomorrow's English class was probably my best hope.
Willie, my roommate, was amazed when I was up and dressed early the next morning. I told him that I just wanted to get to class on time. Any discussion of Sonia would have to wait for...well, more progress, I guess, if more progress was possible.
I was early and leaned against a wall, watching one of the doors to the lecture hall for Sonia's appearance. When it didn't happen, I stepped inside the hall and spotted her sitting by herself, with vacant seats on both sides of her.
"Mind if I sit with you?" I asked.
"Oh, please do," she replied enthusiastically. "I was hoping you'd be here so we could sit together and giggle about the lecture."
Be still my heart.
"Is Peter late today?"
"He's not taking this course. He was just here yesterday to keep me company. But you're here now," she added with a big smile, her teeth as flawless as the rest of her. She was nibbling a cookie and sipping a cup of coffee when the cookie suddenly crumbled and flew out of her hand.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "My biscuit has soiled your trousers, I'm afraid."
I brushed the crumbs away and smiled. "All good," I assured her.
So, I would have her all to myself for one hour each day. Not perfect, but better than it might be. Just the occasional whiff of her perfume was enough to keep me enthralled and oblivious to the lecture taking place. Occasionally Sonia would chuckle, then reach across and write something in my notebook.
"That's important, and you seemed to be daydreaming." she'd whisper, which immediately restored my attention but restored it to her and not the lecture. She even carefully lettered
S-o-n-i-a M-a-r-t-e-l-l
at the top of one of the pages. She was either flirting with me or just being very friendly. I prayed it was the former. I needed to find out more about Peter Trotter but didn't know how that might happen. Sonia offered a simple solution.
"Do you do anything special for lunch?" she whispered near the end of the class.
If I'd been invited for lunch at the White House, I believe I'd have canceled in anticipation of what Sonia might ask next.
Trying to be as cool as possible, I shrugged. "Nothing special," I said. "Why?"
