Writing from a Desk in the Dark: Chapter 11

I’m worried about Demeter. She always seems to be alone, when she’s not with me. I’m sure she has friends, and I know she’s very involved with church, but still. She doesn’t show up to dinner till almost 7:30 p.m., uncharacteristically late. These days it seems as if she’s carrying an invisible burden, shoulders slumped, quieter than usual with mysterious absences from campus.

I don’t want to pry, so I don’t mention it, the change I see happening before my very eye. Despite how I feel about her, we aren’t close. Afterall, though I’ve known of her for two years, I didn’t truly know her until about 5 months ago.

It was midway through September. We were coworkers in student council, but never really spoke. She seemed a bit standoffish, though at least she wasn’t a self-important prick like my other coworkers.

Demeter was chosen as a delegate for an important convention. When she got back from her trip, I ran into her at a party for halls. The party was advertised as “fun, not to be missed.” It was maybe 50 people on the lawn of halls with a DJ playing country music and 2000’s club songs for hyper freshmen. I ran into a few friends in third year and we decided to play cards. None of us wanted to just lay around on a Friday night, but the party was awful. Then I saw Demeter. I went over to say hi (afterall, we were coworkers) and she asked what she missed in student council.

I invited her to play cards with my friends and to my surprise, she agreed. If I had telepathy, I would have been mentally screaming at my friends to not be weird. That didn’t happen. Though they were tactful enough to avoid asking inappropriate or invasive questions, they still acted like a celebrity had shown up, which I guess Demeter is in some circles. They were very excited to meet her after seeing her at the convention on television. After a few minutes of fangirling, they mostly calmed down, which was good. We had fun, but I didn’t speak to her for months after that night.

I’ve often been lonely at college. Most second and third years live off campus, so I usually eat alone. I was eating a lonely dinner, when I looked around the canteen. There were a few groups of students eating together and laughing, but plenty of people where sitting alone, scrolling on their phones, looking miserable. We were all in prisons of our own making–together but isolated.

I looked across the room at Demeter. Except for a few times this semester, I always saw her eating alone. Then it hit me, I can’t be the only one who’s lonely. There’s a simple and awkward solution for eating alone: ask someone else if you can join them. Sure, it can be weird, but it beats being lonely. I vowed to ask Demeter if I could sit with her the next time I saw her. I was so nervous (she’s kinda intimidating), but she said I could.

It was a nice dinner, but I was worried I’d scare her away. It soon became apparent that she wasn’t standoffish, just kinda shy and super quiet. I’m normally a very loud person, but around Demeter, I didn’t need to be as loud. Still, I told her that if she didn’t want company, I wouldn’t take offense, just let me know. This worked well, some days I’d ask to sit with her and we’d have a nice dinner together. Other days, she just wanted to be left alone.

This went on for about four months until one day, she finally approached me and asked me to eat with her. All my fears about being too much, too loud vanished temporarily. At that moment, she chose my company. After years of people sitting with me out of pity or “just to be polite” she wanted me there. Words can’t describe how that made me feel. I was elated, internally glowing. It was like the first time seeing the sun after a winter of clouds.

I know she wants me here, but I’m still nervous. If I ask her the questions I have, would she push me away? I just want to know the real Demeter, but she rarely talks about herself. Given everything she’s been through, it's not surprising that she avoids the past. I avoid mentioning much about the present and neither of us knows our future. Between all that, there isn’t much left. Even questions about her childhood, her favorite color, etc. might be unwelcome.

Though I’m worried about her, there’s not much I can do except be a distraction. I don’t bring up that I’m worried about her or mention the newspaper articles about her, the transphobic instagram comments on the posts. If she brings it up, I’m happy to listen, but I don’t want to be one more reminder of the weight she’s already carrying on her shoulders, more than any college student should. Instead, I just try to be there for her, not burden her with my problems or challenges. And sometimes, in the quiet moments if I listen closely, she’ll share a glimpse of herself.