THE NON-FICTION EXPERIENCE

There is a fine line between friendship and romantic love—a paradox, so to speak, a dance between two individuals who may be listening to entirely different symphonies in their minds. The space between the intention of an action and how it is received by another person is the blur in which these experiences unfolded for Cristina.

It was a year before the struggles of COVID-19 would unfold upon the world. Cristina was a new college student determined to graduate from one of the best universities in the country. She had something to prove and much to lose. In the process, her anxieties and ambitions collided and intertwined. There was chaos in the air for her, but it was a sublime sort of chaos, rarely noticed by others—masterfully masked by her relentless chase for perfect grades and her graceful composure toward everything around her. She often admitted that each day felt like a battle with its own merit, its lights and noise blinding. Cristina would often hang back, for to her, timing was everything—just like poker.

One night, the art club, of which she was a member, organized a painting event to ease the stress of the upcoming finals week. Naturally, she attended. The location was one of the regular classrooms. The organizers, also students, had brought acrylic paints, cheap brushes, and blank canvases roughly eight by ten inches in size. Cristina gathered the materials she needed and decided to paint a cute flower.

After ten to fifteen minutes of quiet painting and relaxation, she saw him: another member of the club, a fellow student in her year. Cristina had been intrigued by him ever since their first encounter, when she was entering the club room and he was exiting through the same door. He was intimidatingly tall and broad, with brown hair and dark eyes with such a striking gaze that seemed to pierce straight into one’s very being. It had been Halloween night, and everyone was dressed in costumes. Being an avid Harry Potter fan, Cristina had dressed as Harry in full wizard attire. As she grabbed the door handle, she was met by his towering presence and his playful words: “You are a wizard, Harry!” Cristina smiled half-awkwardly, feeling both amused and slightly intimidated.

That same tall figure entered the painting room now, dragging a roller backpack—not the kind schoolchildren use, but the kind professors often carry—though he was in the some of the same classes as Cristina. He was a quiet person, rarely speaking, often just nodding to acknowledge others’ presence. Cristina liked this; it gave her clarity and peace in such a deafeningly noisy world. Fighting her own social anxieties, she gathered her courage, smiled, and said, “Hi, Max! I really like how chill you are,” punctuating her words with an OK hand gesture. As expected, Max simply nodded, gave a faint smile in her direction and went straight to unpacking his painting materials to start painting. At the end of the event, the club gathered for a group photo and called it a night.

The next week, Cristina wanted to see Max again. She went to the club room and found only another student there. “Hi Michel, how are you? Have you seen Max around?” she asked. Michel replied that he hadn’t, saying it was probably still a bit early for others to show up. Hours later, students began trickling in from their classes. The club room, often used for both studying and socializing, filled up quickly—but still no Max. Cristina, reading an art history book for her class, waited. Then suddenly, the door opened—it was him! A jolt of happiness surged through her, goosebumps rippling across her skin. She was nervous yet thrilled.

As Max entered, Michel called out across the room, “Hey Max, Cristina was looking for you!” Cristina tensed—because, really, Michel? That was not something you shout out loud, especially to Max. Max, hearing this, looked at her and greeted her politely. She smiled back with her usual grace.

“How were your classes?” she asked.
“They were okay,” he answered, before sitting on the far side of the room, away from where she was sitting.

Just then, Alberto and Colby began suggesting to everyone to set a game night featuring board games—including Dungeons & Dragons, where players role-play as fantasy characters in a made up story led by a Dungeon Master. Because the club had so many members, organizing was a tricky feat: a D&D game could effectively only fit five or six players plus the DM. Colby asked for volunteers to serve as Dungeon Masters. To Cristina’s surprise, Max raised his hand, volunteering even though he let Colby know that he was a novice. Cristina’s heart leapt. She immediately asked to join his group. Colby nodded reassuringly to Max and said, “No worries, man. I’ll teach you the ropes.” Max nodded back—and the preparations began!

To be continued.