Remember to Be Understanding

I walked slowly to my locker, anxiety running through my veins and making my throat tight. I knew something was wrong the moment they told me to “keep an open mind” and “be understanding.” They treated me so well today, and so did everyone else. This wasn’t normal.

The people I spend lunch with were so nice today. Too nice. They complimented everything I’m wearing and my hair. They kept telling me I’m “beautiful” and “perfect,” trying to make me feel good about myself. I just knew something bad was going to happen when I left lunch. What really tipped the scale was my friend, who hates touching hair, asking to braid my hair.

I turn the corner to the ‘C100 — C250’ lockers; they’re the closest to the math rooms. My locker is C189, two lockers away from my freshman year math classroom. They told me to meet them at their English classroom, so I hurry to collect the binders and folders I need out of my locker. Their English classroom is only a few feet away from my next class; Biology.

Of course! When I get to their classroom the bell telling me I have one minute to get to class has just rung. I tried to talk to them, but all I got was a hug and a guilty sounding, “I’ll tell you the next time I see you” called out to me as I walk towards my Bio classroom.

When I walk in the classroom, my friend that knows my partner asks me why I look so down in the dumps. All I can say is, “I think my partner is going to tell me something bad soon.” She nods, I can tell she doesn’t know what else to do. I nod too and we continue class as normal.

Biology and Study Hall go by slower than a turtle stampeding through peanut butter. I go over my relationship with my partner. The week of fun and happiness, after a year of me pinning and loving glances when I thought they weren’t looking. The weeks leading up to me asking them out, of hanging out in my basement watching scary movies and eating mac and cheese; every Friday without fail. Holding hands every time we saw each other, just to show the other that we’re there.

My last period at school is German 1, but like always I go to my partner’s class first so we can walk together to my class and then back to theirs. Today, though, I forgot to grab my German binder when I was at my locker two hours before. They greeted me outside of their class and grabbed my hand. We walked in an awkward silence to my locker. My throat felt tight again and I actually thought I might vomit from nerves.

I wanted to make some excuse to leave when they put their hand on my shoulder and turned me around. They made me look at their guilt-ridden features. I ask what it is that they wanted to say. They take a moment to gather their words, then spoke.

“Look, Grace... I like you, I really do... Please remember you need to be understanding.” They say without looking me in the eye.

“Okay. What’s going on?” I ask

They lay their face against a locker; it could be mine, but I don’t really register it. Their face fills with a red tint.

“Grace, I want us to continue being friends after this…” I zoned out when they started rambling, “The gist of what I’m saying is… I like you, but I love Dylan.”

I fill head to toe with rage. This is, right here, why I almost didn’t ask them out in the first place. I was afraid that something — no, someone — would come in between us. I feared that it would be Dylan. That their asshole ex-boyfriend would come in between us. Somehow he would make a reappearance in their life and take me out of it. He did and now I wish I’d never admitted my feeling for them, and never asked them out.

“I have to go,” I say, most likely cutting them off. I don’t look back as I run off to German; it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, tears were streaming down my cheeks and blurring my vision.

In this moment, I’ve never wanted to have never met someone more in my life.