CONVERSATIONS

4th April, 20??

Conversations.

Dear Dia,

I understand that you must be very pissed at me. And you have every right to be, but understand. I didn't intentionally decide not to write yesterday. I had been so ecstatic that I couldn't write. Moreso, I came back late.

I feel your pages creasing as if you are grumbling. I can sense your anger through your lines and I assure you, I will try to pacify you. In fact, by the time I'm done telling you about yesterday and a bit of today, you would have no option but to forgive me.

Sleep came quite early after my last entry. My exhaustion had aided in its early arrival, and wholly I had surrendered to it. My rest was dreamless, and I didn't know if I should be happy or sad about it when I woke up. 

The following morning as we sat for breakfast, I inquired from Henry about the progress of our plan. Unfortunately, he only had news I already knew. The Divas were pissed. Power had shifted. Almost half of the school were already on my side. 

The last part agitated me, it fueled the worries that had bothered me the previous night. But how come I was already half-the-school famous in the space of a day? Why do people do that? I mean, why are they always eager to stand behind another? To place another on a pedestal? To root for or oppose?

For celebrities, that I understand, but in my case– I'm in puzzlement. I have nothing to offer these people, besides dressing well and walking with my head held high. Pondering about it, I came up with a few theories.

People cheer and back another because they need a figure… someone whom they find something in that makes him/her worthy of their support. One can also say that people place another on a pedestal because they, themselves, don't want to stand there. Or perhaps they're too afraid to bear the weight of such attention. They can also decide to stand behind another because they wish to be like him/her, because they want their lifestyle and, due to circumstances, they can only wish for it. Only a few of those who make such wishes actually go the extra mile to get it for themselves. 

They are also those who support another because, in so doing, they feel supported. No matter the reason behind their support, I think I understand the 'why' behind it. 

Like in my situation, half of the school are probably rooting for me because they need the matriarchy of the Divas to end. Because no one has ever succeeded, and they think I stand a chance. Because I'm offering them hope of putting an end to the cruel dictatorship of the Divas.

If the situation was reversed, I would surely be rooting for anyone who stood up against those cold-hearted bitches. And I think those who are supporting me are right. I think I stand a chance of dethroning the Divas. I have been them and I know how they can be. My mistake of underestimating them had almost cost me my life and, believe me, I've learned from that err.

At school, I was once again the center of attention in my midi skirt, a knotted blouse and a pair of sneakers. Greetings and hellos followed me wherever I went. More people sat with me and Michelle at our table as we ate in the cafeteria. Some even gave me gifts while wishing me a happy belated birthday. Boys winked at me as they passed, while I received glares from the girls they walked with. More hateful remarks came from the Divas and their fans and that pretty much summed up my day at school.

After school, I came back to the house, took a bath, changed and dashed off to Jerry's. I took Daze not because I wanted to show off but because I would feel better knowing she's somewhere where my eyes can see her. After settling her into a spot in the packing lot, I was once again beckoned by the vibrant neon sign that read "Jerry's Place" in bold flowing letters. 

The building itself was a refurbished vintage structure, adorned with chrome finishes and large, inviting windows. Outside, a row of polished chrome stools lined the counter, drawing in passersby. From what I heard, it had been in the family for years, dating back to the 1950s when it was known as "Grab & Enjoy".

Pushing open the glass doors with the "We are open" sign in neon, the bells jingled at my arrival. I was immersed in its world of checkered floors, red vinyl booths, and walls adorned with retro posters and memorabilia from the era like framed advertisements from iconic brands like Kodak, Coca-Cola and Ford of the 1950s. The jukebox in the corner played oldies tunes softly in the background. The lighting– warm, emanating from hanging pendant lamps with colorful glass shades.

Record album covers by rock bands and famous artists lined most of the walls. Most of them I remember, like Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry and the Everly Brothers, as dad had pointed out the first time we had been there just after relocating, and he was showing me the neighborhood. A red payphone was mounted on the far east side of the diner.

Even though the name was changed, most parts of the diner remained the same, sharing that nostalgic ambience, charm and cultural richness of the 1950s. Each element contributing to the diner's unique personality and serving as a delightful backdrop for enjoying classic comfort food in a retro setting.

I greeted Jerry who, like always, had to pause from what he was doing to flash me the brightest and most welcoming smile. In spite of all he had gone through being black and running a reputable business, he still had the most infectious smile, a smile he never allowed to dull.

Liam was just fastening his apron- a red fabric with 'Jerry's Place' printed on its front in the same cursive writing that had become its brand. He still wore his clothes from school, meaning that he had come directly from school. Though his hair was tousled, and his face flushed as if he had been running.

Flashing me a grin, he waved, saying,

"If it isn't the hottest girl in town. Hello, Anna. What are you doing here? Are you here to stalk me or get a dose of this-he gestured to his face."

How presumptuous.

"Oh, get over yourself, Liam. You are not as hot as you think, and you are one to ask me what I'm doing here when you are the one who pointed out that everyone knew this is my favorite place." I replied while flashing a smile at Jerry who gave me a curt bow. 

Wiping the counter, Liam continued,

"This maybe your favorite spot, but I have been working here even before you came to town and I think, with me here, this place just got another reason for it to be more special to you."

"Whatever", was all I said as I made for my favorite booth. The one with Elvis Presley's vintage album cover. Mom had loved his song "Love me Tender". According to her, that song had brought dad and her together. They had met at a karaoke bar and were chosen randomly as a duet to sing 'Love Me Tender' by Elvis Presley. 

Although the song was originally a solo, they managed to make a beautiful duet by harmonizing the notes, adding a few dynamics, and flares of emotional nuances, making the song feel fresh and engaging while retaining its timeless romantic appeal. 

Each time they recalled that memory, they seemed to get lost in each other's gaze. Everything and everyone seemed to vanish, and it's just them as it was on that night. They had told me that the secret behind their beautiful performance was the sync between two strange souls that had never met but also seemed to have known each other forever. Hearts that have never met but seemed to have been beating for each other from far away. Eyes that have never met but seemed to have been created as a pair. 

Dad had said that staring into her azure eyes that night… he just knew. And mom confirmed that just with a gaze at those autumn-brown eyes, she also knew. Their love had really been distinct, and I wonder why I didn't remember all that after her death. Why had I allowed my grief and rage to cast shadows on such beautiful moments? I would be lucky if one day I experience a fraction of what they shared. Maybe then… I would truly understand. 

I had lost myself in that memory and didn't hear Liam as he repeatedly demanded my order. Only when he sat opposite me and gently touched my wrist did I return to the present. His hand was rough from many years of football but his touch… it was the gentlest of touches.

When he saw that I was back, he asked,

"Where were you, Mace? Don't tell me you are one of those people who seem to occasionally depart from their bodies while their souls wander in far-away places."

I cocked my head to the side, indicating that I had no idea what he was talking about, but said as he made an attempt to explain,

" Sorry about that. I just got lost in my thoughts. I take you're here for my order? I suppose you are yet to be updated about my usuals. Anyway, I will be having my number three usual… don't give me that quizzical look, ask Jerry, and he will tell you." I finished with a wave of dismissal.

"Okay, Boss lady," was all he said as he rose and left.

Jerry's place was my favorite spot, not just because I loved everything about it. It also gives me the privacy and space to get away from the house, to just be with my thoughts even as conversations buzzed around me. I would just stare at the events happening outside from the glass windows- a man walking his dog, a delivery cyclist hurrying to meet his time, a couple as they held hands and walked while whispering love in each other's ears, children and teens in their various arrant schemes. All these sights usually dull out the voices in the diner and leave me be with the thoughts that plow through my mind.

Of course, those were on days when I had no assignments or projects from school. But yesterday I had exercises in Algebra, an essay in English and a pile of others. It would be hours before I went home. I was about to begin my Algebra exercises when Liam returned with a plastic tray of Belgian waffles with chocolate syrup and whipped cream toppings and a long glass of chocolate milkshake.

He peered at my work as he dropped the tray, then he sat down and said,

"I think, in spite of whatever reason you decided to come, it's destiny that you are here because I missed Algebra and had wanted to take the exercises from a friend, but now you are here, I would rather get it from you unless… you, would be kind to…" he inclined his head to the right expecting me to read meaning from the gesture.

And the truth was that I knew what he meant, but I played dumb as I said, 

"That's true, most of the students weren't in class today. Pray tell, why was that?"

If he was irritated by my maneuver on the trail, he wanted the conversation to be heading, he didn't show it. He just leaned forward and responded,

"Coach had us running new plays for our friendly game next week with the Armadillos. They had almost defeated us last year, if not for that quarterback sneak I played during the last seconds of the game. Coach wants no close call again, not even on a friendly, and with Principal Smith's permission, we had busted our asses off perfecting the plays. A large part of me still feels sore even." He finished with a wince that had his face squeezed in with pain. 

I felt sorry for him and I tried to show it when I said,

"I'm really sorry about your pains but…" I wanted to say more but the fool-headed stud had increased his wincing like the pain suddenly flared up at my words. Obviously, he was acting because boys like him loved it when girls shower them with concern… but I was not that girl. And I made sure he knew about it when I slid on my headphones and paid him no heed.

A second was what it took before he removed my headphones and said,

"Whose voice would you rather listen to than mine", as he slid on the headphones. I had been listening to Sia's 'Unstoppable', the sound and lyrics always motivated me when I solved Algebra. It was a reminder that I could do anything. I could tackle any problem or exercise and scale through.

After a moment, he gave me back my headphones and grumbled an apology when he saw the rage that boiled in my eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I was just being playful, and why are you so uptight? A friendly reminder, it doesn't look good on you."

" I don't care what you say. Just leave me to my exercises. I can't believe I was a fool to show you concern on what I thought was genuine pain. Here, I was considering tutoring you on how I got the answers after I'm done, because it's humbling to see that almighty Liam Denvers is bad at algebra, but I think I would just head home after this. It's obvious this place has lost its tranquil hold on me. I don't want to hear what else you want to say, just go. Besides, aren't you supposed to be working? Jerry must be a kind soul to allow you all this free time to flirt with girls." I lashed out.

The hurt on his face was palpable, so much that I almost apologized for my words... yet I couldn't, not when he had acted like a jerk. Slowly, with those deep holes fixed in me, he rose and left.

I spent hours working on my assignments and projects. Occasionally sneaking glances at him as he worked. How he smiled at everyone even though the hurt from my words lingered. How he hadn't glanced in my direction ever since.

I had thought I had blown my chance with him until… 

I will have to continue this entry tomorrow. It has already gone farther than I anticipated and there's still a lot to write. I had tagged this entry 'Conversations', but now I don't think it suits anymore. Anyway, I will leave it as that and Dia, I hope you read my words and forgive me by tomorrow. Till then bye, Dia.