The Biology Books

My hopes fell with the autumn leaves. And my pessimism changed the moment a paper airplane landed before me. Within this easiest piece of Origami lay David’s invitation for a private rendezvous at a lone park. My heart almost stopped.

I arrived there early and waited on a wooden bench that befriended the mushrooms. He finally emerged, and seemed a bit surprised that I was actually there to meet him. I wanted to hug him but the vagueness of this date beckoned me to wait, as my mind kept whispering, “This must be it.”

He broke the silence with the words: I have learned to love you Jane. My heart screamed in joy while the rest of me cheerfully sank in disbelief. I became convinced that Cupid was finally on my side. But how could I equal good news that’s not yet physically expressed? It just struck me odd that he hasn’t hugged me so I dared to implore: Why me David?

He retrieved an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to me. As I’ve opened it, the scent of Cyprus flowers accompanied my breathing. The envelope contained a folded-stationery with a prose, which started with the words: I’m sorry. Not understanding all this, I glanced at him with nonplussed eyes. He escaped my eye’s inquest and spoke, “Read the letter Jane.”

The first two paragraphs held incredible sweetness, which watered my eyes. I paused for a moment as a swift realization reached my inner self. I reluctantly asked him, “David…is this about the book?” He stood up, nodded, and stared through the earth beneath his shoes. I studied him as he kept some distance while I clutched his written apology. I don’t know what he’s sorry for because in truth, I should be the one apologizing for what I did.

Our story began in Biology class where I’m dubbed as “Biology’s only nun.” I can’t blame them, my quizzes were very impressive and my teacher was acting as if we’re best friends forever. But for the past few weeks since this handsome newcomer stepped in class, “David-ology” whetted an appetite I never knew I had within me.

During lectures, all I did was to stare at David like a chameleon to a prey. He sorta became my specimen under the microscope. I thought his gladiator neck would be more proper if adorned by a golden chain. I imagined that the mass of his biceps could lift the heaviest of Baltic women. And I’m even convinced that his torsos are the first “washboard chest” of its kind. I was more than infatuated, drowned in my daydreams.

While everyone listened to the lectures about the parts of the human heart, I paid attention on the inner workings of my own. Armed with a compulsive pen, I scribbled my feelings for David at the last page of my book.

I wrote:

David My Love…Just a few words to you before I wrap myself up in an awful reality without your daily caress. Baby, please don’t feel the pressure to fall in love with me. I know you’re ultra cute and you deserve the sexiest and most popular girl in school. I suppose you have to share your wonderful genes to a more deserving girl. I can assure you though, that if you choose me to be the carrier of your future babies, God is my witness that I shall give you the best love life there is. You are so beautiful David. You have no idea how proud I am to be your classmate. I love you and I pray every Sunday that you’ll finally connect with me. Your soul mate….Jane.

I thought autumn was all about withering. And I’d soon wither like the loveless trees. Yet, this paper airplane came to me and brought new hope in my exfoliated soul. I must admit, it baffled me like a jigsaw without a clear diagram. I could only wonder what fantastic force drove David to act according to my hushed wishes.

While I walked to our meeting place–thinking about the events which happened just weeks ago–I remembered how David always dodged me like a banana split on a path. He was so friendly and suddenly indifferent to me. I can’t pigeonhole what scared him off. All I know was that his detachment took place right after he borrowed my Biology book.

That’s right, my Biology book. His gorgeousness electrified me so I said yes when he borrowed it. I stupidly forgot the written evidence of my destructive coping mechanisms. But I made sure he wouldn’t find my confessions. I should know. Before he had the chance to find it, I retrieved the evidence before his naked eyes.

It all happened very fast.

It was the day when David and his friends waited for their turn to use the photocopier. I dashed neurotically to him and demanded to have my textbook back. I wished he reacted like a pissed-off homosexual, but he didn’t. He just patiently obliged and plucked my book from his cluttered stash.  The moment my unholy Grail reached my open palms, I swiftly tore off the last few pages and gracefully handed the book back to him. Some of his friends glared dubiously at me—as if I’m a book-burning freak. I turned pale from the accusing atmosphere. He remarked, “I guess those are really important.” I told him (hopefully calm and composed), “Yes they are. I’ll see you at the hallway. Please be quick with it ‘cause I’ll be using it later.”

I walked out from David’s vision in a quick steady pace, while clasping the book’s crumpled pages that’s buried deep in my palms. It took only a quick glance for my handwriting to loom from the crushed sheets. I minced the paper out of mental vent, while my head growled like Marilyn Manson’s take on the “Vagina Monologues.” I was so relieved it lay in the trash. Unreadable.

But I really don’t know what got to him. The next day, he was so distant. Whenever I try to come-up with pseudo-legitimate excuses–just to talk to him–he would scurry away like a squirrel afraid of a bulldog. If it weren’t for Biology, I could’ve seriously chased Prozac with vodka.

As he persisted to drift away from me, Biology distilled my attraction. His image slowly evaporated and condensed into a library session. But distillation is a long process and I knew he still thrived deep in my soul– somewhere I could still fathom. But at this point, I worried that true love may not be reached anymore.

In the library, I opened my Biology book and studied the diagram on page 272. Something wasn’t right and it felt extremely wrong. I flipped my book over to its opposite side and what I saw horrified me. There it was, the love letter I scribbled for David. It still lay there…un-ripped. Unharmed.

OMG. The thought that he had read my letter—and the thought that I destroyed someone else’s Biology book—bothered me. But there wasn’t any rumor about my dementia going around. And I respected David for that. But all these mistakes nurtured the idea that he was really mission impossible. On occasion, I tried to approach him to say I’m sorry. But he always walked away before I could even advance.

And there I was, reading an apology that he wrote. Why do I deserve this? A gust of wind stirred again his letter’s scent as I painfully watched him—looking deeply in-love yet so troubled. He seemed to have found it difficult to sit by my side while I held this letter. If only he knew that I myself wouldn’t expect to burst like a deadly balloon—after destroying his friend’s book or his book.

I squinted long enough to prepare myself for the last paragraph of his apology. I began to dim as I recited his words with my mind.

…Yes Jane. I learned to love you because I used to hate you very much. And I didn’t really need your book. It was all part of a “truth-or-dare.” Of course you were upset. You are an intelligent girl and you tore the evidence of my disgust in front of my face. And my friends saw you do it too. Yes, Jane. They know about it. It was all during Biology class when I’m told that you were the great nun. We made fun of you. I wished you became angry, but you didn’t. You pretended nothing happened. And that made me feel miserable. Jane I would like to take this opportunity to say sorry for everything that you read in my book: I’m sorry I called you a cocksucker. A three-way whore. A dildo-terrestrial. The litter of Dolly the sheep. Our proffessor’s bukkake. Sacha-Grey’s student. Guiness 2009’s most filthiest skank and that your parents divorced because of squirting love doll. I want you to know that I repeated everything I wrote there in this letter because I want this to be the most honest apology in the whole world. I love you Jane with all my heart. I don’t know if you could still forgive me but I’m hoping we could go out on a dinner tonight. Love… David.

His words pierced and plowed my chest—as if Cupid suddenly yanked the arrows from my heart—causing me to suffer from subdued bleeding. My eyes that were watery from love dried instantaneously. I don’t know how to react but to just lift my backpack and walk away. He called out, “Jane…why did you come here?”

I stopped at my tracks, looked back at him, and shook his letter in my hands, “Apology accepted David.”

“Will you go with me to dinner tonight? I already made arrangements.” he pleaded.

“Hahaha,” I laughed heartily. “No David.”