The Heartless Once Cared Too Much PDF

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1 Ashar Mir CRWR 295 AS01 Don McMann April 6th, 2021

The Heartless Once Cared Too Much

Never once did I think I could find love. To me, it was a luxury I simply could not afford. For my formative years, up until high school, love was just a "grown-up" thing that my classmates and I joked about, not really understanding the sheer gravity of the emotion. I guess that's why you fall in love. It should sweep you off your feet, your heartbeat sporadic, with uncertainty overwhelming your very being, but… You'd do it again. The euphoria of companionate love is addicting, especially to those with low self-esteem. My life would eventually sample the bittersweet taste of love, unrequited yet shared. High School was an exciting time for me; coming from a uniformed quasi-private elementary and junior high school was as sheltered as can be. The most significant change was the number of people I would share my school with. Jasper Place Highschool is amongst the biggest high schools in the country, with over 2500 students. No uniforms, access to a cafeteria and West Edmonton Mall less than 5 minutes away; it was a whole new world. Many of my fellow classmates enrolled in the same high school, so I wasn't necessarily alone. In most of my classes, there were a least three former classmates, which put me at ease. For the most part, the professors were decent, and some were arguably the best I ever had. The number of extracurricular programs offered was vast, as I was quick to join the Key Club, Student

2 Leadership, MSA, Reach for the Top, in addition to playing badminton and rowing crew. My grades were decent for my first year, taking a dive in Grade 11 and recovering nicely in my last year. However, what impacted me the most in high school, certainly not for the best, was my relationship with her. We were classmates since the fifth grade, seeing each other on a nearly daily basis. Entering high school with my fellow classmates made the transition easier, and she was in most of my core classes throughout the tenth grade. We would exchange greetings, occasionally speaking about assignments or our fellow classmates. As the days went by, we started to talk almost every day, even eating lunch together. At first, I didn't think much of it, just another friend to talk to not feel lonely in this new environment. It surprised me how open she would be with me, telling me relatively personal details about her life and attempting to parse through mine. I would reciprocate with my life story, as monotonous as it was, only to see her maintain eye contact and interest. When I would arrive at my locker before class to hang my jacket, she would creep up behind me and whisper "Good Morning, Darling," in my ear. This was the closest relationship I ever had with a girl, especially one I did not instigate. She was pretty physical, often placing her hands on mine or on my back playfully. At that stage, I had no clue how to respond, so I stood frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. Each day, I learnt more about her, as I came to admire her passion while conflicted on her personal beliefs that were in stark contrast to my own. Regardless, I decided this friendship was worthwhile, so I opened up further, and we gradually grew closer. Other boys in my grade would often remark that we were dating, which often turned my cheeks bright red. She would smile and laugh, clarifying that we were good friends but platonic. That statement should've been definitive

3 in it, but on one of our bi-weekly ski trips to Rabbit Hill, I would find the Dr Jekyll to her Mr Hyde. The skip trip was like all the others, us sitting with our group on the GreyHound bus, skiing with them, eating our dinner in the cabin and returning back to the school to be picked up. For some reason, there were not enough seats on the way back to our high school. People would have to squeeze into the rows; some even forced to sit upon another's laps. When we got to our seats at the back, there was not enough space for my group. So, I ended up on the aisle seat while she had no place to sit. Before I could offer my seat, she sat in my lap without hesitating or asking me first. For an adolescent with no experience with girls, I was caught off guard, simply focusing on staying still and not making her uncomfortable in any way, lest I get labelled a creep. The guys around us joked, telling her that "something" might poke her from the bottom and other lewd remarks. Their comments were insulting but understandable, as most boys would relish this opportunity. I was simply too terrified to consider anything else, praying that our hour-long ride would pass by quickly. With the snow building up, in addition to our late departure, the ride back took quite a bit longer. The first half of the ride back was full of my fellow students conversing so rambunctiously that one couldn't hear the howling winds outside. Eventually, everyone began to succumb to their exhaustion and the warmth of the bus, falling asleep or starting to relax. She was still in my lap, not too heavy nor too light, but I had acclimated to her weight and was relatively comfortable. I was browsing on my phone when I felt her slouch on top of me, her eyes shut, and her arms wrapping around me. She snuggled in close like a child would in their parent's lap. I didn't know what to feel. She had other friends, boys who were more confident, funny and better looking, yet, as in previous ski trips, she always sat next to me. The last few days of school were not really to study, but to enjoy class parties, full

4 of games and movies. As I entered my homeroom, she ran up beside me, both of us in the doorway. The classmates looked up, giggling and smiling, to which I also lifted my head. A mistletoe was hanging above the door, which was to be expected with Christmas a week away. I turned to find her moving her face towards mine, her cheeks as red as flame, slowly closing her eyes. Instinctively, I turned to the right and moved slightly back, causing her kiss to land right on my cheek. She began to laugh and gave a hug before wishing me a Merry Christmas. I said the same, and as we walked to our seats, I couldn't help but think. If I had not moved, she would've kissed me on the lips, not something you do with one's friends. Maybe I was looking too deeply, over analyzing an innocent kiss. That day, I would make the fateful decision that would change my perception and interactions with women for the rest of my life. Though I liked her a lot, love being too naive a concept for a high schooler to understand, I knew my chances would be slim. The events I have laid out were enough for my 15-year-old self to pursue her, not as a friend, but as something more. Over the Christmas break, I went to New York with my father to visit my great aunt in the hospital. She was nearing 89, and her health was declining, yet the trip was not a somber affair. There were many family members who I had not seen in over a decade, as I had always visited my mother's side for most of my vacations. I met cousins I didn't know I had and many of my father's friends from his college years at St. Johns. On Christmas Eve, seeing the sights of New York was magical, with the streets brimming with thousands of people, preparing for the festivities to come. However, on New Year's Eve, where the entire family was gathered around the dinner table, laughing and yelling, the children were spread into their own groups. Sitting by my cousins playing Xbox, I got a call from her. It was via an app, so I didn't need to worry about any long-distance charges. I went up to the roof, grabbing my jacket and answered. Her speech

5 was slurred and slow, but I managed to surmise she had been drinking. She asked me what I was doing, where I was when I was getting back etc... This line of questioning wasn't unusual between a couple of friends, but when I wished her a good night, she insisted I stay on the line. Her parents were gone to a party, and her brother was overseas, so she was alone with her bottle of wine and wanted to speak to me. We talked for over an hour, about mostly asinine garbage, but I entertained her request. Before I hung up, she told me that she missed me and couldn't wait for me to come back. I hung up the phone and sat down on the radiator, which may have been quite dangerous. She was drunk. She may not have been fully cognizant of what she was saying. However, alcohol can bring out one's inner emotions, what they truly feel. At least, I thought so. Prior to leaving NYC, my father and I went to Macy's to buy clothes and gifts for my mother and sister. I had been given about $250, of which my father only knew about the 200. So I told him I would go and look around; I slinked away to the jewellery department. I ended up buying a lovely necklace that was reasonably priced, as I stuffed it into my pocket to avoid my father's eyes. School resumed a week later, and as I approached my locker, she was already there. She lept to give me a hug, which wasn't the first time I got one from her, but it still caught me off guard. I presented the necklace to her, her eyes sparkling as bright as it was. Her cheeks turned red, and she sniffled as if she were about to cry. Turning her back to me, she moved her hair, revealing her nape for me to place the necklace. I had never worn or handled any jewellery, so I fumbled with the latch as I wrapped it around her neck. The soft, hazelnut aroma of her neck contrasted the fresh, tart scent of her shampoo. She told me how sweet I was, hugging me again and handing me an envelope before showing the necklace off to her friends. The card was tasteful, alongside the Tim Horton's gift card she had for me. The words she wrote would forever be seared in my memory. She promised to make up for all of our missed dates, looking forward

6 to our future ones and thanked me for being there for her. Maybe I don't know how friends treat each other. Perhaps I'm too naive. Or, as I came to believe, the last few months made it patently clear. I couldn't just be her friend. I had to pursue her as something more.

How I wish I hadn't.

The following term was like the last one, except most of my fellow students and I were finally comfortable as high school students. We had made a decent amount of friends and were used to the layout of the school. Though I had some different classes, I still had all of my core subjects with her. Our lockers were still next to each other, so we would always bump into each other. Every time I would walk to my next class, I would feel a tap on my left shoulder. Instinctively, I would look to my right, where she would be smiling, flustered that I always turned to where she didn't expect me to turn. I tried to set up coffee dates and other outings throughout the following months, most of which never materialized. Soon, I began to think that perhaps I was not interesting enough. I hadn't had a lot of "fun" like the popular kids had, so maybe she didn't find me any more unique than an average guy. So, in my desperation, I made the fateful decision that would cause me more grief than I could expect. I lied to her. I made up stories about my vacations, experiences and anything else I could think of to boost my image. I was a pathetic bastard that was digging himself into a larger hole in hindsight, but I didn't care. Whenever she would text me, I would hold every letter to my heart. Every time she spoke to me, I hung on every word that left her supple lips. Inevitably, the lies would begin to catch up to me. She called me out on a few, to which I stubbornly doubled down. At that point, she hadn't stopped speaking to me, though we had parted ways a bit due to our club

7 responsibilities. One afternoon, I opened my phone to find several texts from her. All of them were full of rage, calling me a liar, pathetic and that she wished she never met me. It hurt me, but within a few hours, I came to terms with the fact that I caused this. It was on me, and I couldn't blame her.

I would later.

A few weeks after was a long weekend, where I was hanging out with Peter and RJ. They were delinquents, but soon I would come to see that they were more loyal to me than anyone else could be. We were relaxing on his patio, with some blunts and beers in hand. At some point, Peter asked for my phone to check something, so being as inebriated as I was, I handed it to him. He searched up a few things on Google before stumbling on my messages to see what she had said to me. Peter turned to me. "You're going to let this bitch get away with disrespecting you?" "Leave it; it's not important," I responded. "No, no, you need to say something back, or they'll think your sweet out here," RJ chipped in. Sweet being slang for passive and weak. So, after much chiding from the two, I decided to respond with a few insults of my own, nothing too profane, but enough to make my point.

The following day, I returned to school, hanging my coat in my locker and entering my homeroom about a half-hour before class. The class was about half full, and everyone turned to me and glowered at me. I was confused about why, so I sat at my seat and asked Reid, one of the

8 popular kids, what was wrong. He glared at me intensely and simply told me that he knew what I had done. Still, I was confused, and only when she entered the class and everyone looked at her and then glared at me did I understand. I began to receive text messages from my classmates, full of insults, profanity, and even death threats. I paid it no mind, realizing that if they could turn on me after hearing about my dispute with her, they weren't friends worth having. I was a pariah in homeroom and most of my core classes, as they all consisted of more or less the same students. As I left for the day, with Peter and RJ beside me, she approached me outside the entrance. She told them to leave us alone, but I waved that off, telling her that whatever she can say can be said with them here. Apparently, she was furious at my insult, which didn't utilize the most severe language I knew, and she called me a coward for not saying it to her face. My friends laughed at this, calling her a slut who needs to be put in her place, amongst other sexist comments. I told her that a true coward tells everyone their side of the story and fights with an army at their back. She scoffed, and we exchanged the last looks and words that we would share for the next few years.

Years would pass as we advanced to grade 12, preparing for our post-secondary education. I would still see her, and we would simply avert of eyes from meeting each other, which made it difficult for the few mutual friends we had left. Near the end of grade 12, I sent her a text, apologizing for my lies and comments, asking her to meet in our school café for a coffee and talk. That was on a Thursday, to which she responded she would love to and set the time for noon the following Monday. As the lunch bell rang on Monday, I made my way to the café and found an empty table with 2 seats. I sat down and waited. What was supposed to be a 45-minute lunch felt like 45 hours because she never showed. I sent her a text, to which she insolently responded with an "oops" emoji, stating that she thought I meant the following

9 Monday. I was ready to lay my soul bare and humble myself before her. I didn't want her back, but my friends still felt the raw aura of our former relationship. They had convinced me to bury the hatchet once and for all. After that day, I never spoke to her after, nor to anyone else about her, for at least a year. Going to different universities made moving on quite a bit easier. However, every time I flirted with a girl or went out on a date, she was always in my mind. It was as if she was a spirit perched upon my shoulder, radiating pure miasma of malice.

I hope I can move on from that time. The past should not weigh down anyone's future. All I can say is my first experience of love was naïve and ended poorly, with myself to blame. I still have female friends who I get along with, and I have certainly matured since then.

But

Love will never be the same. Like a double rainbow, you may only ever see it once. If you miss that opportunity, then it may as well be your last....