The Package that Never Came

It was all muscle memory by now. Slip the key into the keyhole, wait for the click, a firm tug on the stout metal door handle and I’m in. I had it down to a science. On a good morning I could slip inside in less than five seconds. I swear the doors were vacuum sealed. Once opened, the first set of glass doors always sent a mighty rush of stale air ripping apart my loosely arranged hair and blasting my teenage cheeks. Once inside this first set of doors, I simply had to pass through the second set. When these had listlessly fallen into a closed position, that’s when I knew I was completely safe. Completely hidden away. Out of sight. Out of mind.

I tossed my backpack onto the well worn taupe colored carpet of the empty theater building and glanced at the clock on the far wall. Thirty minutes before the bell would ring. Thirty minutes to gather the fortitude, the courage I would need to face another day at this high school. I knew I didn’t belong here. Every school day was a reminder that I was not accepted or wanted by any of my peers. The familiar weight of dread was attempting to pull me into the stale, dirty carpet underfoot. This high school theater, perched at the top of my hilly high school campus, was so old and worn. So drab. Honestly, it was my soulmate.

My lugubrious thoughts were silenced as I peered out the theater doors. I don’t know if it was a perk or not, but I could view the comings and goings of everyone at the high school without them seeing me. As long as I stood far enough away from the glass doors and deep enough into the sprawling, cavernous theater, the rays of the morning sun could not reach me nor betray my secret post.

Throngs of students poured onto the campus from school buses, cars, or by foot. Many walked in pairs or groups. They were the lucky ones. The occasional lone teenager plodded onto campus, carrying what I imagined was the same amount of dread as me over being here. Feeling so alone. So unsafe. Here there was no space for either them nor me to be our true selves. No space at all.

Through these glass doors I had witnessed numerous spats between best friends. Dramatic break-ups. New romances. It was fascinating to me that I could get closer to my peers and find out more about their lives while hidden behind glass and metal, than I ever could face to face. I yearned to join them of course. My attempts at doing so always failed. My sensitive spirit could not withstand another rejection and so thanks to the fact that my dad’s office was located in the locked high school theater, I had a safe place to land.

It was from behind these protective doors that I first saw the package wrapped in brown paper. It had been a typical morning. One in which I slipped inside the theater doors before anyone could see me. Funny how I missed seeing it sitting outside when I came in that morning. Maybe I was busy putting my backpack in dad’s office and missed whoever had dropped it off. The couple that normally sat on the expanse of cement just beyond the glass doors was not there. Odd I thought. They usually situated themselves there five or ten minutes after arrived. The package was carefully placed in their usual cuddle spot.

An unexpected surge of hopefulness shot from my heart like a warhead of electricity. For a brief moment I had the idea that maybe the package had been left for me! But who would know to leave it out in front of the theater doors? Who would know that I was even in here? The only person who knew about my secret hideaway was my dad.

Then I saw her approaching. One half of the happy couple whose story I had witnessed from its inception. She stooped down to pick up the package. She carefully traced her finger across the top of the brown wrapping. As I suspected, the package was from the girls’ boyfriend. Each morning they would sit together...so close to each other that there was no space for the rays of morning sun to penetrate their unified shape. The girl opened the package and smiled with delight at the pretty bracelet inside.

And that’s where the idea began. I imagined it would be wrapped in brown paper, just like hers had been. This time however, it would be my package. Something to affirm the deepest desire of my soul: that I was seen.

I especially hoped the package would be given to me here at school....the place where I felt the most pain and loneliness. It was all I could think about for the next handful of weeks. Each morning I would squint extra hard while looking out the theater doors, attempting to trick my eyes into seeing a package just beyond them. On the other side. Out where the others were walking and talking and starting their days with human interaction. No matter how hard I would squint, I could not make the package materialize.

This package would come....I just knew it. It didn't even matter what would be inside. What mattered is that it would be there...right outside the theater doors. A gesture of love just for me. How great would it be if the cute boy in Spanish class saw me slide into the locked theater one morning. He would wonder why I never hung out in the quad with the others. He would be inexplicably drawn to me. Feeling for me. Desiring to make a kind gesture. An attempt to reach out to the quiet, withdrawn girl locked behind glass and metal. He’d leave a simple package with a note inside or perhaps a candy bar. Anything would do.

After months of anticipation, I finally let my desire separate itself from my heart. It was pulled away from me like water being feverishly sucked into a drain. I was wrong about everything. The package never came from the boy in Spanish class. The package never came at all. Deep down I knew he wasn’t the one I really wanted the package to be from anyway. It was someone else entirely.

Looking out the familiar glass doors edged in black metal, I saw him. He put a hand radio to his mouth to report something to the office. I could see the security guard emblem on his gray shirt. My heart ached as the morning bell rang and I watched him move away. He soon blended in with the sea of others who could not see me. As I looked, my dad descended the cement stairs to the freshman quad to begin his day. I turned and shut myself into his office. I shut myself away that day. Waiting for this painful high school experience to be over. Out of sight. Out of mind.