But He Knows My Name

Big Fishes' Carnival at The Lake - But He Knows My Name

Like what a normal person would do, I opened the door when someone rang the bell, not even trying to assume who the person behind the door was. My mind was full of the resume I was about to submit, and I was continuously thinking about how to appeal to be an amateur editor. It was stressful for me not to get a job six month after graduation, and that was exactly why I was so focused to grab this chance. I was still holding my presentation script and reciting some parts that I would like to remember when the door was opened – I did not even look at the person standing in front of me. Everything in my mind was taken away when he, with his subtle, unforgettable voice, called my name.

The next moment, he was the only one in my world.

No more scripts to be remembered. No more companies kept in my mind. No such nervousness and insecurities of being rejected painted my heart. All of me only responded to an existence I admired for so long – him and him alone. I thought I was simply a wallflower in his life, an additional being just for him to ignore and prove that he was having a great time with a number of people. I had never talked to her, and up to that moment I believed I never will. I thought I was always looking at him and he never looked back. I was used to that, for four years, not even dreaming of getting close to him.

The first time I saw him was on the first day of college. He was a reserved, calm and quiet man. Some rumors about him had been already spread among all the female students: that he was a national top scorer in literature since he was thirteen, that he was one of the most handsome man in the college, and many more. Many fancied him, but he seemed to be very focused on his studies. I heard from a friend that he aimed to be the number one writer in the world, and I think that he pursuing such a high dream is lovely.

At that time I thought I was only having a crush on him, and since I was also focusing on my studies, we did not have much to talk about. However, things changed when I stumbled upon a small notebook that he dropped. Many pieces had I read, varying in genres, but only his writings could touch my heart like never before. The notebook only consist of several sections of the whole story, and it piqued my interest. From then on, my love for him grew.

I began to follow him when I had time. His favorite place was in a rundown coffee shop hidden from the hectic city, where he would be the only one drinking a cup of black coffee in tranquility. I recognized that sometimes, he scribbled one or two pages in his notebook during his visit to this coffee shop. At seven o’clock he would leave the coffee shop and got back inside the bright, noisy city in the night.

Another place that he would like to visit was the library, where he would pick up some novels that I had never even heard before. At one point I tried to read one of the novels that he read, and wondered why had I not read it before. He would usually visit the library during weekends, but when work from college was piling up, he would not be there.

He had a bad habit of leaving his notebook alone on the table when the college ends for the day. That was my only chance of catching up whatever he had been writing, and it never failed to amaze me. However, there was this one day when he did not write anything in the notebook, so I followed him instead, to a place where the river flows with the sound of music. There, he was sitting under a tree when a young lady played a beautiful harmony with her violin. I did not even last ten minutes there: I was so tortured by my fear of her being his girlfriend. I did not want to know.

I did not know until the last day of college, that his apartment was just next to mine! I was so excited but also in dilemma: should I visit him? I really would like to meet him again, but barging into someone’s apartment for no reason seems really awkward, not to mention that he never talked to me before. For days I had been trying to find a reason as to talk to him, but nothing came to mind.

The next thing I remembered was a novel, written by him, was released. The girl from before had the honor of buying the first copy, and I bought the second. I knew full well what the novel was about, but it never fails to amaze me even after I read it again and again. As a fan, I decided to send him a letter about his novel, which was funny because he lived next door. In the letter, I only put my initials, R. A., so as to avoid being caught. Surprisingly, he addressed me in his next book which was released three months after the first. Both of his books were best-selling books, as expected of him, but up till then I wondered why would he responded to such simple letter.

He began to gain his fame after the second book. In no time, his name was everywhere: in the newspaper, the cover page of a daily magazine, even in the television. I followed every news about him, and stopped in an article that stated that he had accepted a job offer in United Kingdom. I regretted the fact that I never gained the courage to talk to him, after all this time.

From then on, I tried to forget about him and focus on searching for a decent job. That was why I was doing all the stressful administrative matters, having interviews everywhere, writing scripts for numerous company to review.

“Can I come in?” he asked politely, while holding a rose close to his chest.

I was so engrossed with all my memories about him coming back to me that I was basically stunned and did not move at all. When I regained my senses, I found it hard to move my lips, and to him I must have looked weird. Thousands of possible sentences that I would like to say to him surged through my consciousness, and as I decided to say something, I hesitated and tried to think again. The result? Me breathing with my opening and closing mouth, much like a fish. He smiled and waited for my words.

“How did- How did you know my name?” I asked in anxiety.

At that he laughed and offered the rose to me. I instinctively accepted it and let him in, scolding myself for not tidying up my room in case of unexpected guest. I was thrown into panic when I found out that there were no tidbits to offer him with, but he told me to calm down and just sit on the couch. I was still trying to grasp whatever was happening then.

He clearly said that he just wanted to chat for a bit, before he depart to United Kingdom for the job offer. He said that it was a shame that we had never talked to each other in college, and basically never see each other after graduation. He said that he had been noticing my actions during college – me tailing him occasionally, me reading his small notebook every time he left it – and found it weird. He then reminisced about the past, many times about himself, and sometimes laugh at his own good memories in the college. However, there’s only one thing that was in my mind: he knows my name.

“Ms. Aug- Royce?”

He finally noticed my blank stare, and at my apology he smiled. He said it was his own fault that he talked about himself all this time, not knowing that repeating the same thing would only make me happier. He then apologized for not talking to me all this time, and in confusion I apologized back, which turned into a battle of apology, after which we only laughed at our own stupidity.

“Well, I guess I’ll be going, then.”

He said as he stood, but he abruptly stopped when I grabbed his hand. From then on my body was completely out of the control of common sense: I stood up and hugged him. I was pretty sure that he knows how I felt, and it might be the most awkward moment in his life. I was aware of the possibility that he would push me back, but my feelings for him has overflown that I did not even care of the consequences. So I prayed to God to let me hug him, just this once, and let this love be satisfied just for a blink of an eye.

For what seemed like hours we just stood there, me hugging him.

“Royce?”

“Just for a moment. Please.”

And we continued to stand still, tears flowing out of my eyelids as I bore the pain of knowing he will go away. All of my memories, all of my joyful moments, all of my feelings for him, all was expressed with a few tears of mixed feelings. After my sobbing had stopped, I finally braced myself to let go. At that point of time the night has already fallen, and I felt bad for keeping him for so long. He was silent, and so was I. 

Nobody tried to break the ice; it was then just me staring at those two beautiful brown eyes, without him looking away. Would I, one day, forget how these two brown eyes captured my heart? Would I, one day, forget how he always sit when he tried to think for a plot to write in his notebook? Would I, one day, have the courage to let go of these feelings, one which was left with only pain and torture of not being able to see him, perhaps for good?

Again my train of thoughts was disturbed by the surge of such question, to the point where I almost lost my sanity. When I once again regained my senses, he was no longer there; only I standing in a dark room only lightened by the beautiful moonlight streaming through the windows.

But it was beautiful.