The Cafeteria

The Cafeteria

“Dude, there she is!”
And she was. Sarah Hartman: long brown hair, big brown eyes, cute, petite. I had liked her the whole semester, since September. It was now November and I still hadn’t got the balls to go and have an actual conversation with her. Over the months the only things we said to one another while passing by were “Hi”, “What’s your major?” “What’s up?” or “Nice day, eh?”
“Well what should I do?” I asked. “Should I go pretend to get something to eat and go talk to her?”
Paul and John said “yes” in unison, and then laugh.
         “Alright,” I said and got up and walked towards the food stations.
         I couldn’t seem to find her through the crowd of people. I kept looking but no cigar. I grabbed some fruit and headed back to my seat.
         “Where the fuck did she go!? I can’t find her!” I exclaimed and then we all started laughing.
         “She knew you were coming so she jumped out the window,” John joked.
         “Go back again, she’s obviously back there,” Paul suggested. “Pussy.” They laughed again as I headed back to the stations.
         I made another round around the stations. I still couldn’t find her. She had once again, disappeared. I got back to my seat.
         Paul and John were in stiches. “Dude, she just walked out the other side when you went in the other way!” John exclaimed.
         “Alright then where did she sit?” I asked. I start scanning the room. I spot her at a table by herself near the window. “I see her. I’m going now,” I said nervously.
         
         I grabbed my coat and left my seat. I went to get a drink first and then started toward her table. As I passed by my friends’ table I could see them doing stupid laughs at me, trying to fuck with me. I chuckled and reached her table.
         “Er- Hey, my uh friends are bailing, mind if I sit here?” I managed to get out.
She smiled, “Sure!” so I took a seat. As soon as I sat down her friends arrived and they suggested we move to a less dirty table. We got up and went to the one down from us.
         There was six of us at the table eating. Three girls, three guys. “So, how’s your year going so far?” I asked Sarah. My heart wasn’t pounding as fast at that point.
         “So-so. Midterms are hard. University is so much harder than high school. I didn’t expect it to be this challenging.” She was eating a hotdog with way to much mustard and ketchup on it. I felt gross for a second and recovered. “I hear you, I’m getting all C’s this year. Then again, it’s my fault since I can’t bring myself to study. What’s your major again, Psychology?” Same old small talk, I thought. I need to generate an actual conversation.
         “Yeah, Psych.”
         “You like it?”
         “It’s okay,” she sipped at her juice.
         “What’s yours?” asked the girl next to me.
         “History at the moment. Might switch it up, not sure yet.” I extended my hand, “By the way, I’m Matt.”
         “Erica,” she said.
We all exchanged handshakes: Tiffany, Dan, and Dylan (maybe Dillon?).

         The next few minutes were filled with numerous stories filled with drugs, alcohol, professors, class assignments; normal university stuff. Dan had got high and drunk a few days ago and hit on his professor. We had a good laugh at that.
         “So, wait; you not only hit on her but you tried to kiss her? How didn’t you get kicked out of school?” Dylan or Dillon asked.
         “She likes me, I don’t know. I’m as surprised as you are. Maybe she felt kinda bad cause when I went in to kiss her I tripped and bashed my head on the desk and knocked myself out.”
         We all howled with laughter. “You-fucking-idiot!” Dylan or Dillon said between breaths.
         “Oh yeah, before I forget, Sarah, my mom found-“ Tiffany paused for a second and pulled a tiny bone out of her mouth, “this fish is supposed to be boneless,” she said in an angry tone. “Okay, so, my mom found one of your sweaters in my room when she was cleaning it.” They must know each other from back home. “She’s sending it in the mail along with some of my stuff tomorrow.”
         “I didn’t even know I was missing a sweater. Tell her thanks, anyways.” she responded thankfully. She was in the middle of eating some sort of mixed ice cream. Looked good.

         I felt pretty good. Things were going smoothly. I’d finally broken that barrier and was comfortable talking to her.
         “So where are you from?” I asked her while I ate some ice cream, different than what she had earlier.
         “I’m from- oh my god! There he is!” she exclaimed.
We all looked across the cafeteria and spotted some guy.
         “Ooh, he is cute, you’re right,” said Erica. “So that’s the guy you always talk about?”
         “Yeah…” she let out a dreamy sigh.
         “So, what’s your plan?” Tiffany asked excitedly.

She sat there in thought for a second. I was shocked at the whole situation. After what seemed like ages she looked up at us and said, “What should I do? Should I pretend to get something to eat and go talk to him?”





© Andy Macneil, 2010