It’s
just a coincidence that today she broke my heart. It has nothing at all to do
with me showing up to apologize without any offering.
Pure coincidence.
I met
Brita my first week at college, and though a lot has changed in the last four
years (my major six times, my roommates three), Brita has always been there. We
met in the Reitz Union building; she was buying a bag of chocolate chip cookies
from a vending machine, and it was love at first sight. Over time, we occasionally
argued, and we soon fell into a pattern:
I would
scream, and she would start to cry, then throw a textbook at me (gently, but it
always reached me). I would stomp out of the room and she would slam the door
behind me. Then, after fifteen minutes, I would knock on her door with a bag of
chocolate chip cookies from the vending machine where we first met; the best
cookies on campus. We would make up and watch Iron Man 2, and then everything
would be back to normal.
Except today.
Today, I
knocked on her door after the allotted time and tried to open my mouth to
explain that I didn’t have cookies because I was down to the very last dollar
to my name and the package got stuck on the coil, but she slammed the door in
my face before I could say a word. This isn’t how it is supposed to work.
All my
anger at her for intentionally breaking my Taylor Swift vinyl gone, I reflect
back on the years we have spent together. I know in my heart that I can’t live
without her, and even though I am now flat broke, I will get those cookies for
her if it is the very last thing I do.
I run
to the union building, flying past groups of high schoolers on tours and
pushing my way through a drum circle. I see them now- the cookies. Really, they’re
not so stuck… a gentle push should send them tumbling down to me. Glancing around
to make sure nobody is judging too harshly, I sprint to the machine and shove
my hand through the slot. The cookies taunt me just millimeters from my
fingers. I consider giving up, but thinking of a life without Brita hurt worse
than the damage I was doing to my shoulder trying to reach up just a little higher.
I decide to stick my head in to give myself more room to reach, and now I have
them in my hand- the cookies are mine! Brita will soon be mine! My future is
entirely in the palm of my hand!
My euphoria
soon fades as I realize I can’t pull my head back out. I don’t remember how I managed
to get this far into the machine, but neither twisting nor pulling is helping
me get back out. Students passing by stop to take pictures as I glare. Someone
nearby is on the phone with the police describing that everything from my
shoulders up is stuck inside a vending machine. I imagine laughter on the other
end and dread the headlines that I know will soon be coming to The Independent Florida Alligator:
Florida Man Rescued from Vending Machine.
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If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all. (That means you, Darrell.)