The bus let out a sigh with the release of the brake at every stop. I was too focused on the frost patterns on the window to take anything else into account. I didn’t catch a word of what he said.
We used to live closer and were able to walk home together after school, and even though I had only moved a few blocks away, I could tell now that things were different between us. We rarely spent time together anymore. I had known him for only a couple of months before high school. ***He seemed to have been created in contrast to me. He was tall and slim in a way one could tell he was athletic and styled his hair so that made it seem like he had put no effort in it. Before he had moved away, Russ realized that our high school was easy to reach by the city’s transit so he decided that it would be simpler for us to take the train, rather than have one our parents drive us every day. Even though it was more inconvenient for me, since I lived twice as far from the train station as he did, I never said anything. Part of me felt that, in some bizarre way, taking the train would be my first step into becoming an adult. Regardless, we would meet at the train station before sunrise and wait for our ride to school but, I never knew if it was on purpose or not, he would always be five minutes late. For five minutes I would circle the concrete wondering if today would be the day he misses the train. Somehow, he never did. After the first week, our morning commute became muscle memory to us. After getting off the train we would always stop at the coffee shop just a few minutes away for hot chocolate. This pit stop would become a necessity once winter started. Once we got our hot chocolates, we’d walk, always seventeen minutes, to school and discuss whatever topic was on either of our minds. We could go from talking about something as mundane as the newest episode of our favorite show to some days having sombre conversations about our futures and if we will become the people we want to be. Most of the time, we never finished one of these conversations by the time we got to school, and so we would continue them on the way home. The walk back was always nicer because we’d have had all day to think about what was said in the morning. He would always contribute more to the conversation, but that was just his nature. I was far less expressive than he was and neither of us complained about the dynamic. He moved after we finished our first year of high school. With him moving away, the number of morning conversations dwindled away like flowers wilting in the winter, unsure if they would ever return to their original beauty. His new house was beside a bus stop that was a direct line to school so he never felt as though he needed to accompany me any longer. I still took the train.
“Yea Russ I think you’re right,” I figured I could get away with pretending like I heard what he said.
“Perfect, I’ll respond to her tonight!” Russ boldly responded, meaning that I clearly gave the right answer.
I still don’t know what he said but there’s only one “her” that he could be talking about, Samantha. Samantha had a crush on Russ for longer than I knew him, and we often talk about her. Usually, Russ tells me he feels bad for her because, after all these years, she’s still obsessed with him. I always tell him to give her a chance, even though I know full well that they would not work out. Russ isn’t doing her any favors either. He was, in a word, braggadocios. Russ was never humble, he was always a self-serving, superficial soul, but somehow, through all of that, he was nice. He was nice and people loved him. Most of all, Samantha loved him. The only time she would talk to me before high school was if Russ was there or to ask me about him. That’s why I wanted him to give her a chance. As much as I liked Russ, in not one of any innumerable possible futures would he deserve Samantha.
Admittedly, I only became friends with Samantha to get closer to Hanna, her best friend. She was my best friend before Russ. Hanna had a summer spirit that contrasted her hair darker than raven wings. She was one of the taller girls in our grade which was something she was self-conscious about, but I had been quite fond of. She and I lived near each other and would often talk on the school bus home. I always ended up sitting a row behind her, but I don’t think she minded turning around to talk to me. Our stop was near the end of the route so after about twenty minutes, we’d have the bus to ourselves. Even though it was empty, we never ended up moving to sit together. But there was something about us two sharing innocent conversation that made me never want to leave this microcosm that only her and I shared. I was always too scared to ask her to spend time outside of school, so I cherished our time on the bus with great fervent. Eventually, after many months I worked up every ounce of courage inside me to ask to walk her home. I felt as though a piece of the sun had landed on me when she said yes. I would walk her home for the rest of the school year. Even though she would end up going to a different high school than I, and I would see her far less than I do now, none of that mattered to me. For some reason, I decided that I had nothing to lose with Hanna. It was the teenage naiveite that convinced me that her and I would remain close no matter what. So with this false confidence, I asked her out, and she said yes. It didn’t last long.
We always knew in the back of our minds that when the summer ended, so would our relationship. But I was hopeful. I always knew that I was far more invested in the relationship than Hanna, but I convinced myself that if I gave every ounce of me, she would eventually reciprocate. In the back of mind was always the thought that this relationship was essentially a ticking time bomb. With every passing day, our time together was slowly running out. I did everything in my power to reverse the hourglass; I took her to the only coffee shop I knew she liked, bought her gifts I was told girls enjoy, and strive to spend as much time with her as I could. Looking back, she never did end up reciprocating my efforts.
When Hanna broke up with me I didn’t know how to handle it. She gave me a general excuse of needing to focus on school and she couldn’t handle her potential workload along with me. At first I was devastated at the fact that not only had I lost a partner, but also my best friend. Who else would I share those moment with on the bus? I was young and thought heartbreak lasted forever. It was Russ who first showed me that things get better even when it doesn’t seem that way. Back then, he was just someone who I would pass in the hallways and exchange a slight nod with, and only knew of through his notoriety in our relatively small school. He somehow heard of what had happened, I assume through Samantha, and was there for me. Arrogant as he was, he always knew what to say.
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Samantha and I didn’t get along at first. We met out of circumstance. She liked Russ, and I liked her best friend, Hanna. She and I often bickered over nothing, though it seemed paramount at the time, to the point where our arguments would linger for days. I never had anything explicitly against Samantha, but I treated her as though she had committed grave acts against me. It was only after Hanna, and I ended things where I became closer to Samantha. Her perspective was ultimately what made me learn how dramatic I had been. We were barely teenagers and I had been treating a relationship built on sand as though it was stone, when nothing really is. Samantha was a lot smarter than everyone gave her credit for. She was a swimmer so the chlorine had damaged her once brown hair, and she tried something new every week to remedy it. I think that that was part of the reason why nobody took her seriously. Russ especially lacked any appreciation of her. To him, he was just another girl he had to deal with, but to Samantha, Russ was everything.
Once high school had started, Samantha and I had a few classes together that forced us to work together. She’d spend most of the time talking about Russell, until one day I had had enough and snapped at her, “Either ask him out or get over him.” I immediately regretted what I said as I saw her cheeks, once like sun-kissed sand, burn with the intensity of the desert sun. She refused to speak to me the rest of the day, yet it seemed she took my advice to heart. On my occasionally bus ride home with Russ that day, I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket, and the first message displayed on the screen was I told him. Either he wants me or he doesn’t. That must’ve been what Russ was telling me about.
Russ gave me a salute as he stepped off the bus and told me he’d call me when he got home. Those days I had a lot more time to myself. By the time it was my turn to exit, the sun had already began to set and it was always dark when I actually got home. The walk usually lasted twenty minutes in all and, other than seeing each breath condense into thick clouds in front of me and feeling my lungs be pierced by the frigid air, was hardly ever unpleasant. There were times where we would experience springtime in winter and the crunch of the snow turned to slush, squelching with each step. I no longer had anyone to drown out the sound of my solitude, so I opted for a pair of cheap headphones that crackled no matter what volume I was playing music at. With Russ no longer here, music was a perfect solace.
When I get home, I have the house to myself for a few hours until my parents arrive. We moved from Iran when I was too young to remember. What I do remember, however, was an immediate realization that I was different form those around me. I never saw much of a difference between my classmates and I but I guess curly hair and a natural tan were enough indicators that I wouldn’t fit in. I ended up learning English from watching cartoons and hearing music on the school bus’s radio. My parents registered in evening classes to improve their English which meant that after walking home from the bus stop, I would only see my mom for half an hour before she got picked up by my dad for their classes. At the time, I relished in the freedom I had as a young kid. I indulged myself in peanut butter sandwiches while sitting right in front the TV, until the sun set and the light emanating from my shows were the only thing lighting up the room. We moved from apartment to apartment as my dad took job after job, and my mom found work being a nanny for other families during the day. After returning from their classes they would always make me some quick microwave dinner and would get me ready for bed. I never brought it up, but I could always tell they were harboring some deep sadness that they were careful to never share with me. Mom always looked like she was a moments away from breaking down into tears, and dad never let on but missed his parents back home. He’d served in the army but I think moving away from his mother was harder on him. I did everything I could to make their lives easier because I knew that the only reason they left Iran was for me. I walked to and from the bus stop, made food when I got home, stayed on top of all my homework, and never made a fuss. I felt such immense pride when my mom told me she didn’t even know what grade I was in. I’m making them proud.
We moved to our current house when I was in 8th grade and compared to the apartments we lived in, I thought it was a palace. Big windows to let the sun fill up every room, a backyard, my own room. After a little while it became too much for me. I missed the quaint lifestyle I had grown up in. My parents were starry-eyed at the opportunities they saw in the house and so I never told them how I felt.
Usually, I heat up leftovers from last night’s dinner and watch an episode of whatever show that’s in my rotation, but I immediately went to my room to call Russ.
“Dude what are you planning?” I ask him before he even gets out a ‘hello’.
“Yea I’m doing good thanks for asking,” God, can you not be sarcastic for one day. “Whatever. I’m ripping off the proverbial band aid,” How are you SO pretentious, “I’m telling her that I’ll never like her the way she likes me. Hopefully then she’ll finally leave me alone. Anyway, I gotta go finish this game, so I’ll let you know what she says tomorrow, bye!” how callously he can go from breaking a girl's heart to returning to his stupid video game.
How can he be so self-absorbed? So selfish? He has no idea who he is. If he wants anything, his parents give it to him. Without any effort, he’s one of the best performers in our class. He has girls at his feet begging to be with him. I’ve been using the same phone for years, have to study for hours on end to even come close to his level, and the only girl I liked lasted one month with me before giving some dumb excuse to leave.
Regardless, it was difficult to determine how much this decision would change. All my friends either knew Russ or Samantha and if there was a fallout between them, I would have to choose a side.