A Love Story By Jeff Manzione

I am sitting at the table in my sixth floor apartment mulling over what had happened earlier today. My good friend is sitting on the couch near the window. He is watching some unintelligible garbage on the television that I really do not like but I tolerate because I have to for my own sake and sanity. The air is humid and hot. The air conditioning is broken and has been for the past three weeks. There is not the slightest chance it will be fixed anytime soon; this room in this building is not the highest priority for some lazy oaf who is in charge of taking care of these kinds of problems. I really cannot blame him; I am just as lazy and find myself trapped in endless cycles of sloth which have brought me from higher education to lowly subsidized housing. As I said, I am thinking about what had happened earlier today. Lukas, that friend sitting on my couch, and I were coming back from work. The kind of work that I dare not shame myself in mentioning to you, it requires a certain level of shamelessness that I have yet to acquire. He was smoking some questionably cheap cigarette which I do not approve of yet tolerate for the same shameful reason as I tolerate his taste in television. Anyway, we got out of work about ten or twenty minutes ago and I received the most intriguing look from the most delightful, mysterious, and magnificent creature that has ever graced my presence. I knew her already. Depending on your interpretation of the word relationship, she is either a close acquaintance of mine or some girl that I periodically see. I awkwardly stare at her from time to time when I walked up or down the stairs of the apartment building as she happens to walk by in the opposite direction. She lives on the fourth floor which has slightly better quality and slightly more expensive apartments. Really, they are just as shitty as the ones on the sixth floor. In case you suspect me of being a stalker, I only knowwell really suspectthat she lives there because that is the only floor I have seen her enter from the stairwell. She is certainly not the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, but there is something about her which I cannot explain and has left me thinking about her for long periods of time. Pertaining to her appearance, she is of meager stature, wears glasses, and has a small beauty mark to the right of her lip. Her hair is not too long and not too short; it has a bit of curl at the end. Her eyes are brown like mine and have a certain appeal about them which I have trouble describing. Maybe it is because they are filled with the hope and aspiration I cannot find within myselfI really do not know. Her smile most of all, which I have only seen once, has entranced me. It is more perfect and unique than the perfection of a rose bud. I would truly give anything to see the smile again. Unfortunately, I do not know her name. Continuing the story, Lukas and I walked back from our shameful work and we encountered her as we waited at the bus stop. It was by chance that she was waiting for the same bus, but it was to my pleasure and dismay that she recognized my friend and me. The conversation at the bus stop I cannot remember, for her presence was interesting enough for me to completely ignore the conversation and

Lukas, like a weasel, took charge. After the bus arrived, the three of us boarded it and sat down together. Lukas and I sat on one side of the bus while she sat on the other, directly across from us within conversational range. Lukas continued to talk to her and I was mostly dumbfounded as I stared intently into her eyes. She occasionally looked at me in the eyes as though conflicted and then went back to those of Lukas. At that moment I was frustrated and annoyed with my friend who had completely taken over the conversation with her. He spoke, she giggled, I hated it. Please God, do me a favor and end the torment, I thought to myself. It was the most painful thing that I could have imagined. After about ten minutes, the bus stopped in the front of our building and we all got out. I hated myself for saying nothing to her. How could I be so stupid like a school boy? She made a comment about how it was nice to talk to Lukas and me and she pulled out a scrap receipt from her purse, wrote down her room number on it twice with an old pen and ripped it in half, giving one half to each of us. I took the shred and it read, Floor 4, Room 106. She said that she would love it if we came over to hang out some time when she had some of her friends over. I extended her the same courtesy and we walked inside the building. Lukas walked close to her and I was a step behind until she departed at the third floor and turned to me and said, make sure you visit me, in a low, seductive tone and then showed her beauteous smile. I can scarcely describe the feelings of joy I felt when she said that, but I was unable to gather my countenance to reply before she swiftly disappeared through the door. Lukas and I continued climbing the stairs. We said nothing until we returned to the room. Now we are here; I sitting at the table and Lukas watching that shit on my tiny television. I still have the scrap in my hand. I study it. Floor 4, Room 106. Why did she give me her room number and not her phone number? Why did she tell me to stop by in the stairwell? I have no answers. All I know is that I am now more interested in this woman than I can bear and I now know where to find her. I must go see her. Maybe I will walk down there to make small talk. Maybe she will tell me about her life, her aspirations, what she likes, what she does not like. I would of course avoid talking about my miserable life at all costs. This pent up emotion was about to burst into glorious action. You know what, I am thinking about asking whats-her-name out. She was kind of cute and you know she told me to come visit her when she left the stairwell, said Lukas. I surely burst an aneurism. I am beyond angry, but I show no sign of it. That comment was to me! I thought. How could he have thought she was talking to him? What an arrogant shit! I will go on down to her apartment right now and ask her to go on a date with me, he says. I will show her my new piecechicks love a man who can defend himself You know what, I will go get some roses for her first, girls like that silly shit. Do you know where I can get some? No, I lie. I will not allow that.

There is probably a place down on 145th where I can get some, he says as he takes his hat off of the counter and walks to the door. I will be back in an hour. He smiles. I fake smile at him and he at me. I say nothing and he walks out. I am furious. I throw my coffee mug at the wall. It shatters, but I do not care. He is stealing my girl! I saw her first! I know his type. He does not respect women; he only uses them. He will stay with her until he gets what he wants and then he will throw her away like a candy wrapper. She deserves more. Maybe she deserves me. I cannot allow him to succeed and I cannot stop it. I have lost my chance. A tear rolls down my face. In my anguish I think the unthinkable. Betrayal of my friendship. What if I talk to her first? Maybe she will agree to go out with me before Lukas can ask her. Ingenious. I blindly decide to try it. My heart races as I put on my jacket and leave my apartment without turning off the television or locking my door. I have only one focus now. I cannot explain how or why, but I certainly love this girl about which I know almost nothing besides her apartment number. I walk to the stairwell and down two floors. I walk down the hallway looking for her room number. I find it. R106. I stand there. Can I really do this? Can I really betray my only friend? I think I can. I think it is worth it. I stand there, unready for what is about to happen. I exhale and I knock on the door. I wait for ten seconds and there is no response. I hear a voice from within, Just a minute. It is definitely her voice. I am excited and terrified. She answers and is not composed. Ohhiyou cameuhhow arewell I was not expecting you uhcome in, she says. I awkwardly replied, Oh, should I come back at a different time? No, no, I meanuhnoplease come in, she says very timidly. I oblige and she seats me down at the table. I look around her apartment. It is a studio like mine only a little bit bigger and better kept. She seems a bit more timid than when she spoke before on the bus. I say, I hope I am not making you feel uncomfortable, if so I will leave. Oh no, pleaseno, please stay, she says. My apartment is just a bit messy and Imuha little embarrassed is all. Her excuse is clearly a lie. Oh well, I just came by to see how you are doing, I say. Fine, fine. I cannot believe you came to see me, she says as if she is shocked. She must be repulsed by me. I am hurt. Oh I am so sorry to bother you, I say and I make motion to leave with actual intent. My face turns red as I am so embarrassed. What am I doing? Who am I to just waltz down here without a legitimate reason? No! she exclaims. I mean that I cannot believe that you actuallywellyou knowlike me. I am confused and I do not reply. How does she know? I hope I am not being too up front when I say

that ever since the first time I saw you in the stairwell months ago, I knew there was something special about you. Ever since, I have been thinking about you. When I saw you at the bus stop I was overjoyed that I might actually get to speak to you. You said nothing to me the whole time and I was crushed by you. I thought that you must have hated me or that I was ugly. Even through that, I could not stop the feelings I felt for youI could not help myself but to give into the hope that we might intersect paths again if I gave you my room number andwellnow you are here. Andwellthe truth isuhI kind of cannot stop thinking about you. I see you in my dreams. IuhwellI honestly think that I Love you, I interject. We look at each other in the eyes intently. I feel different than I have ever felt before. My soul is unburdened from its crude existence. At that moment we lightly kiss. Our eyes stay closed afterward. We kiss again, this time passionately. We kiss as if we had been lovers for many years. We do not stop for some time. *** It has been at least an hour since I left my apartment. We are lying in bed, staring at each other in the eyes. I hold her in my arms and she holds me back. I feel complete and at home for the first time. I think about what I am going to do with my life. I plan to finish college and get my degree. I think of the life I will now have, growing old, having children, and dying peacefully. The burden of my existence is gone. I look to her and she smiles. It gives me great pleasure to see it. I cannot contemplate letting this magnificent creature away from my gaze ever again. As we lay in bed, I have never felt warmer. Not the warmth of heat but the warmth of life. We tell each other our life stories. I am not bashful. I freely tell it to her the story which I have never shared before. She tells me her life story and I think to myself, What could have allowed someone as unworthy as me to have such a wonderful person? For the first time since my early youth, I believe in a higher power for it can only be He who could have rewarded me. We have now reverted back to staring into each others eyes. She says, I need you to promise me something. I reply, Anything, love, with my full intent. Promise me that you will love me forever, that you will never leave my side, that you will be the father of my children, and that you will believe that which brought us together on this day was nothing short of absolute and utter fate and serendipity. I promise to her with all my heart. I kiss her on the forehead as the door to her apartment opens. There was no knock and it is Lukas. He is soaking wet. He has the bent roses in his hand. He is already unhappy about what has happened on his trek for roses and sees us, together, and he knows what has happened. He has been betrayed and he cannot bear it.

He cries out in anger at me, NOOOOOO! You have not! You could not! He grits his teeth so loud that I can hear it. What have you done? His anger is greater than I could have imagined. I am speechless. She is speechless. The tension builds in just a matter of seconds. His face is blood red. Lukas turns to the side as if to storm off, but he is already too angry for that. He pulls out his pistol in which he takes so much pride. I know I am the target of his fury and I will soon pay for my actions. I have no regrets. I only fear that there is no afterlife, not because I fear death, but because I will never see her again if so. He shoots. I feel nothing. He missed. Why doesnt he reload? He is horrified. I fear the worst. There is no way. It is not possible. I look to my love. The greatest pain I have ever experienced is realized. She is dead. The bullet meant for me has ended her. I shriek in agony. Tears come from my eyes like I have held them in for my entire life. Lukas shrieks. He frantically stumbles to the bed in disgust at his mistake. He comes to the body. We both cry over it for a few seconds as he puts down his gun. My sadness turns to anger. He has taken from me the only thing that which I cannot forgive him for takingthe only thing which I could never forgivetruly, the only thing for which I have care. I seek vengeance. I grasp the pistol in my hands. The feeling is new, but it is right and just. Terror is on the face of this monstrosity and I will soon cast it away. His eyes are filled with remorse and regret, but I have had enough of that on my own and take no pity. He says, Wait no! It is too late. I cannot control myself. I hold the gun to his chest. He must die. I pull the trigger. He falls to the floor. He gasps for breath. His eyes do not leave mine nor mine his. I do not move. I see our friendship in an instant: I was befriended by a tall, rough man after my life was ruined nearly a year ago. I was at my lowest low after my parents were killed during a burglary just a semester before I was to graduate. I was devastated and dropped out. I considered putting a pistol in my mouth and pulling the trigger but no He found me in the gutter at that moment. He said to me, What are you doing using a pistol like that on such a nice day? Even though the sky was obscured by clouds, he had convinced me to put the pistol down. He took me in. He showed me how to live and how to survive and found me a job at the mill with him. Though I hate almost all of his mannerisms, his disrespect for women, and his violent nature, I still care deeply for he who has stopped me from ending myself prematurely and giving me new purpose. My mentor; my only friend But now he takes his last breath. I see the life leave him. What have I done? My love and my mentor are now dead. I have gained and lost everything in one day and now I am here, alone in the face of what I have lost. At this point I do what I must doonly that which I am capable of doing. THE END