Writing From a Desk in the Dark: Chapter 4

I’ve never been normal. Social skills were always a challenge growing up. In elementary school, through high school, I was bullied for the food I ate (lentils and quinoa), the clothes I wore (heavily vintage-inspired bohemian clothes that belonged in the 1960s and 70s), and my less than stellar social skills (I’m neurodivergent). I’ve only kept a few friends over the years, but I haven’t spoken to them in ages. Aaron was one of them, but if you read Chapter 2, then you know why we aren’t hanging out.

This feels almost normal. Getting Thai food for dinner at a restaurant downtown, half an hour before closing time with a girl from my 2D Design class. She’s sitting across from me in the booth, golden lamps, and embroidered elephant tapestries surrounding us. And when she looks up from her phone, her smile is warm and inviting, like a warm cup of cocoa, a fire on a cold night.

Marian and I ran in the same circles for about a year. Her boyfriend is in Student Council, though we work in different branches. Her brother is president of Chess Club and she very briefly was elected to Student Council before resigning. She’s always been kind and welcoming to me, despite us not knowing each other well. It feels like one of those sci-fi books, when one person has known someone their whole life and travels back to the past before the other person has met them. The one who remembers has a knowing smile, a calm reassurance that it’ll all work out. That’s how Marian acts, like in another life we were best girlfriends.

We were block printing t-shirts in my 2D design class. I finished mine early and passed Marian, who had arrived late while washing up at the classroom sink. After exchanging pleasantries, she said “Aw, you’re leaving already?” I asked her if it’d bother her if I stayed and talked while she worked, though I did need to leave soon to make it to the dining hall before it closed. She said “I can talk and work,” so I stayed.

Pretty soon we were the only ones left in the room. I kept saying “I need to leave soon,” every ten minutes, but I didn’t want to go. She let me vent about Aaron, asked me about my Spring Break, and shared some stories about her own life. It was one of the most honest conversations I’ve ever had. She’s dropping out of school at the end of semester, at least temporarily, to focus on her mental health. I was surprised by how much she opened up to me. I guess we all need someone to talk to.

At this point it was nearly 7 p.m. and I was unlikely to make it to the canteen if I didn’t leave. I went to leave, but Marian asked me to stay and invited me to get dinner after she finished her art piece. After debating our options (leftovers but I have food allergies, a vegan cafe, Thai food) we settled on a sit-down Thai place 20 minutes away.

I drove, the radio and streetlights the backdrop to our conversation. Glowing blubs in the darkness streak past vanishing, the only markers of distance in the inky night. We sat down and ordered, conversation continuing to flow easy and comfortable. It was effortless.

In another universe, where Marian wasn’t straight with a boyfriend and I didn’t have a date this weekend, I would have loved her. She has that same positive, warm energy and wonderful sense of humor that I find attractive in so many people.

We live in this universe though, so we continued our dinner, talking about how hard living with anxiety is. Marian’s brother and boyfriend are doing well. She’s excited, but nervous for the upcoming Student Council elections, as some of her friends are running.

After dinner, I drove her back to her apartment on the outskirts of the city. I dropped her off, then drove a bit farther to look at the stars, “Underdog” by Alicia Keys playing on the radio. There’s a magical kind of wonder in knowing nearly every human on earth has viewed the same night sky at least once. Maybe that’s what I’m truly in love with: humanity. That wonderfully exhilarating sense of being alive that so many humans seem to share. A welcoming smile, a good joke and a personality.