Vanities of the Male Ego ...Finale ...A Moment of Insight

A week ago the prospect of spending a night alone with Nathalie enjoying a candlelit picnic on her office floor would have been a dream—now, it’s a nightmare.

I’ve finally come to the realization that Nathalie is unaware I even exist and the fact that now she has to suddenly depend on me since we’re marooned in a freak October blizzard is hardly consoling. In fact, I resent having to be here holding her hand so to speak.

The winter storm is at its height and flashes of green lightning are wavering outside the windows. Of course, she seems anxious.

Well, karma is a bitch they say.

“Are you okay?” I ask, more or less out of duty, because I am not enjoying this cheerleading role.

“Sorry—it’s silly. I’ve always been terrified of lighting.”

I wince a bit despite my resentment towards her. She looks genuinely frightened.

“That’s okay,” I console her, “we all have things we’re afraid of.”

“Really? I can’t imagine you being afraid of anything—you seem so poised and self-assured.”

“I wish that were true. I’m kind of a disaster socially.”

“It’s hard for me to see you that way—I always figured you the opposite.”

I’m taken aback by her frankness and my defensive wall begins to develop a few small cracks.

But I should make sure she’s paid back for all the sleepless nights and grief she’s caused me.

Yeah, I know she wasn’t aware of my crush on her, but nevertheless, I wasted a hell of a lot of time for nothing.

I can’t forgive her just like that. That would be weak and dumb.

But once again common sense deserts me when I need it most.

“Actually, I followed you across campus today and was going to ask you to sit with me at lunch, but was afraid of bothering you.”

“I wish you had—that would have been nice.”

“I was respecting your space—I mean you always have your office door shut. I figure you’re a private person.”

“Not really. I wish I were confident like you. I’m always fearful of strangers—that’s why I keep my office door shut.”

“I suppose looks can be deceiving,” I say guiltily.

She has this far-off look in her eyes and says dreamily “I’m so shy—I sometimes notice certain people but am fearful of approaching them, so I have imaginary conversations with them inside my head. That’s crazy isn’t it?”

“If it is, I’m crazy too, because I do it all the time.”

She looks surprised. “You do?”

“Well—only with you,” I croak.

I don’t know why I said it, or how it came out—maybe it was the wine or the atmosphere—the lack of reality, or actuality—but I was emboldened and followed my feelings for probably the first time in my life.

I look over at her and her head is bowed.

All my bravado and false swagger is gone and I feel as desolate and empty as a crater on the Moon.

I’ve gone too far, ruined the moment—made a complete fool of myself.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

She lifts her eyes to me. “Why are you sorry? I said the same thing.”

“Yeah, but I made it personal.”

“I was trying to do that,” she whispers, “but wasn’t as bold as you.”

I try to change the subject so she won’t feel so awkward. I know, I’m a sucker for helpless females—but these things I do.

“So you mentally communicate with people in your head?

“I don’t do it with just anyone, James—I try to, but mostly do it with you, and I’m always asking your soul why you don’t talk to me.”

My heart’s beating so fast, I feel faint.

“Because I’m an idiot,” I sigh.

“Join the club,” she smiles.

I’m feeling spontaneous for the second time in my life.

I lean across and kiss her softly on the lips.

© 2019, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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