The Stranger

I have seen her around campus and she seems sad. No, not sad so much as shut. She reminds me of this locked door in my apartment building. It's not a beautiful door. No neon signs demanding attention or decadent flourishes flirting with my eyes. Just a banal pastel rectangle rising erect by the recycling. I've tried opening the enigmatic entryway but it's always locked and I have no idea what's behind it. Storage? Corpses? A lifetime supply of chocolate? Waldo? I don't know. And that makes me notice it more than the doors I walk through thirty times a day.

Now here I sit in the UC with a chorus of college voices pervading the air and this girl-door is cracking open. Her words invite me to peek behind that solemn facade that has taunted me for so long. Like a Western tourist sneaking into Mecca, I'm going to slide into the maze of her mind. But don't worry, sweet reader! The cacaphony of the crowd is my invisibilty cloak; I sneak around unnoticed.

Let me describe to you what I know so far about this sulking creature of mystery whose presence so bewilders me. Her stand looks like a stoop. Her sit seems like a squat. Long black hair strings down her cheeks like stern curtains. She seldom speaks, but when words do march out of her mouth, they are brief and frugal. Her body has always reminded me of Saturn, not because of its girth, but because it seeths a kind of self-reliance. And I could easily imagine a ring of ice particles encircling her.

Oh, how those first impressions strip away as I hunch in the cafeteria and study this girl in her natural habitat! But let me snip short my rhapsodizing. Now, my scholarly reader, I will silence my biases. Like a rational anthropologist or psychologist or lifeologist, I will remove myself from the scene. I will present you with the simple, essential ingredients and see what delicious conclusions your minds bake with them:

She towers above her table of friends with her hip jutted out. Slicked back in a stylish pony tail, her black hair no longer divides her face from the world, but beckons admiration. The gaggle of friends below her all look like a strange blend of geek and gypsy. Only a few of them speak directly to her, but the others stop babbling every few seconds and eagerly glance at her.

"Oh my god, isn't it like Ash Wednesday or something?" blurts a girl with greasy blue hair and a black sweatshirt. The ripples of chattering at the table fade.

"Yeah it is." Mystery Girl twists her keys between the crevices of her fingers.

"Are there like church services or something here?"

"Yeah there are church services here. But I was sick on Sunday so I forgot to go to them."

"Is the church here any good?"

"Yeah I just didn't want to got to church cuz I was sick. Christians have bad immune systems." As she speaks, she traces the outside curve of her thigh with the keys. "Oh my god so like the funniest thing happened last week. Me and a bunch of the lacrosse players were working out and watching TV. And you know how you don't want to change the channel when you're working out?" Blue Sweatshirt girl blinks in agreement. "Well this evangelical thing came on which was all like 'Jesus bled for you blah blah blah' and ever since then I started calling Gatorade Jesus Juice." Giggles billow through the crowd. "And now I'm always like 'want some Jesus Juice?' when we work out."

Blue Hair Girl adjusts her brown hat that pleads for attention. "Are you like really religious?"

"I'm Catholic and Pagan which makes life interesting." She cocks her other hip out and shifts her weight. "Christmas is fun cuz I get to go to church services and solstice parties. It was like really awkward one time cuz my friend had this Christmas party. I was all like 'uh-no-can't go you're party's on solstice." A rich laughter gushes from her lips.

"HOLY SHIT I FINALLY FINISHED THE LAST LEVEL!" A puffy face erupts from behind the labtop next to Blue Hair Girl. The others at the table look fairly amused. Sucked back into reality, the computer boy greets Mystery Girl, who rewards him with a half-smile.

"You religious too?" She brushes across his whole body with her eyes.

He fingers the rims of his glasses. "Yeah. There's this math demon that sits on my shoulder and makes me worship him."

"I see."

"He's always like 'is there really such thing as infinity' and-"

"What does the math devil look like?"

"Thin. Emaciated."

"Interesting."

"You're like really good at math, huh?" Bursts Blue Haired Girl, gazing at Mystery Girl.

"She's a Math troll!" Computer Boy howls at his own joke before anyone else has the chance.

"It's my major. I have to rock at something." Her chin elevates a little, elongating her wide white neck.

"OH MY GOD! One of my friends is engaged!" Computer Boy's beady eyes expand like black holes.

"So what. All my friends from high school are either pregnant, engaged, or dead." Her keys jingle as she speaks. "Do you facebook stalk your girlfriend?"

"No I don't." His face looks liquidy like yogurt, and screams for the supportive structure of glasses to keep it from gushing onto the floor.

"I stalk you girlfriend on facebook. She's hot." She smirks and angles her head towards him. "Well I have homework to do. Au revoir!" She sachets out the door, snaps it open, and enters the night.

My eyes watch the blackness envelop her figure. More than ever, she is a mystery to me. I have discovered that behind that locked door there is not a mere room but an entire complicated, nuanced country. And I will always be a stranger there.