Someone
written by: Daya Es
She was someone that was special to me. The sight of her lifeless body always haunts me. The garden looked dead without her. The faint smell of autumn leaves faded in the classroom. Her absence dug a hole in my heart. The wave of anguish broke my heart. “Why are you grieving for her? Is she your lover or what?” He laughed. No, she wasn’t, she wasn’t my lover or friend. She was someone I knew. She was someone I had been a classmate with for 7 months. She was someone who would be an invisible person in every story.
It was mid-July when I saw her for the first time. The day when we were enjoying the art fest of our college. The crowd was swaying their bodies to the beats, jumping around, and screaming. Even though it was ephemeral, we were restless. The effervescence of people was evocative of joyfulness. We danced together, talked, laughed, and played, just for halcyon days. On the moving figures, I spotted someone who was still.
It was the first time I noticed her. She wasn’t resplendent, but her compelling aura held my eyes on her. She wasn’t dancing or moving. She was still like a statue, looking around her. No one paid their eyes to her like she didn’t exist to them. Is she what they call a nerd, but no, she wasn’t wearing specs or reading a book like those who are assumed to be. The word ‘nerd’ is uncool for everyone these days, isn’t it? She was alone, even though the whole crowd covered up. But surprisingly, she wasn’t. She was there with her stern eyes, without envious eyes, and sweating palms. The strange feeling she let out calmed me; it brought peace. Well, she is something that got my interest now.
The next day I came to know she was my classmate. The disappointment I felt was that I didn’t even know about my own classmate. How the hell did I not acknowledge her, for God’s sake? It’s been 3 months since our semester started, but I never noticed her. The extrovert who meddles in others’ business doesn’t even know his classmate. That sucks.
She wasn’t a bright student like others. Her seat was in the back row of our class. She didn’t have a friend, not even someone to talk to, yet she was joyful, happy, and calm. The solitude she held was soothing with a hum. She always arrived 10 minutes before the class started, neither early nor late. She really did leave a good impression with her schedule. She never missed a day. She didn’t borrow anything from others. She was aware of herself; she knew when she needed to perform something, like she didn’t need anyone.
A good observer, she was a good observer. She knew she was eyed by her own classmates like a creepy stalker, yet she chose to be quiet. I didn’t acknowledge that 7 months had really passed before my eyes. I do like her, not like a lover nor a friend. I just like her, maybe because of her peaceful presence. The peaceful surroundings she held. The garden she chose to have her lunch. The scent of autumn leaves when she arrives is, exotic yet comforting smell. But it all did fade away…
It was around noon when the principal made the announcement. The reason for her disappearance. All students were assembled for our deep condolences. She wasn’t present here. We won’t be here if we are dead, right?…
I came out of my thoughts when my friend nudged me. “Bro, what are you daydreaming about? The class ended, let’s go.” I released a deep sigh and packed my bags. Now this room, this place, wasn’t peaceful anymore. The comforting clouds vanished out of my life…
(Time skips) In this house
I stumbled my way to my room, threw my bag on my chair, and jumped on my bed. I closed my eyes while inhaling a great amount of air. “Stop thinking about her,” I muttered to myself. The absence of someone really haunts me. I picked up the phone, which was on the table near my bed. Mindlessly scrolling on my phone stopped once when my eyes caught the notification of mail. Wait, an email? Did the college release the mark list? I asked; they just could have revealed it to the class. Who would even send mail now? I groaned annoyingly. I boringly checked the mail. It’s been 14 days; why didn’t I clear it up?
But the address really made my heart skip a beat. It wasn’t something, but a small message. “Hi Ishin, I’m Aarvi. Nice to meet you.”
It was her. The message was sent before the night she disappeared. Maybe it’s not that she doesn’t need anyone. It’s just that she didn’t find someone next to her. The right one next to her, and we would be friends at least if I had replied to her, or that tragic incident had never happened. But now she’s just someone I know, and I’m just someone she knows.
