Chapter 4

Conrad's POV

This woman is stressful, she doesn't talk, doesn't say anything, just looks at me. I regret approaching her. If I had stayed in the car, I wouldn't be in this awkward situation. I look at her wanting to snatch the cigarette from her lips, but she doesn't move or do anything. Doesn't she see that I'm a teacher? This lousy uniform should mean something. Maybe something like I'm an authority or I have the right to send her to the principal's office and call her parents. However, in Gwen's eyes, I don't seem like that, or that's what she's making me understand.

"I'm asking you to throw it away. We're in an institution, not in a park. I think you're old enough to know that. If you don't want me to call your parents, throw it away."

"Your clothes smell like cigarettes," she says for the first time since I've been here. Her voice is delicate, but it makes me take a step back when I hear what she just said. Then I remember that I smoked with Johan in a classroom near the window. And I feel guilty because I'm not being fair and I'm getting involved where I'm not wanted. This girl is nothing to me, I'm not a teacher, I'm a guy who was stranded on the street and chose the first job he could find. What does it matter what happens to the students? At the end of the day, I'll still get paid.

"Do what you want, Miss Gwen."

"Are you permitting me to smoke? What kind of teacher are you?"

"I'm not giving you permission to smoke," I shout. "However, I don't want to deal with you. I've already told you, if I see you smoking again, I'll call your parents."

"I don't live with them."

"I'm sure there must be a number at the principal's office."

She looks at me hesitantly and throws the cigarette. She stomps on it and passes by me, hitting my shoulder. I let her go. I don't want to keep arguing with a girl who seems like she's six years old. And for the first time, what Johan said is true. I didn't believe him because he didn't seem like a very sincere guy, he just seemed like someone who lives ruining his life, but that's not true. Just because he smokes doesn't mean he's a bad guy. And maybe I should apply the same thing to Gwen, but she's... I don't know how to describe it, maybe unbearable? Irritating? Bad-tempered? Horrible personality? Or maybe all of that together.

I go back to where Gwen was standing and pick up the cigarette to throw it away from here. If someone sees it, there could be serious problems with me and her. I don't remember the last time someone scolded me, and I don't want to remember what it was like. I get in the car, close the door, and put on some music to make the trip more relaxing. I think about the friends I had and how much I want to go out with them, but I can't, and that annoys me. Why were all my friends my ex's friends? What did I do wrong in my past life? I'm determined to stop by Kamila's house to pick up some things I left behind, and my heart beats very fast, my hand's sweat, and my desire to have contact with her is zero. Seeing her will undoubtedly make me wonder more things. Her presence is addictive to me. Since I've known her, I've believed she's the most beautiful woman on earth, but then I started to stop thinking that. Certain attitudes indicated to me that she wasn't the woman of my life.

And yet I chose to ask her to marry me because I loved her.

I arrive at the house and stop on the lawn. Everything is the same as when I left, the cherry blossoms, the decorations we put up together for New Year's, and the furniture I liked so much. Next time I have a partner, I must remember not to make my life revolve around her. I feel very frustrated and throw the ceramic decorations she has placed all over the lawn. When I hear the noise, Kamila comes out in her pajamas and with her hair all messed up.

"But what are you doing?" she yells angrily. "You're ruining my garden!" Her angry face makes me want to scream everything that's on my mind, but I can't, because the words won't come out. Because of her, I've lost everything I worked for a long time, my friends, my job, my house, and most of my belongings. I watch her walk angrily towards me and raise her hand to hit me, but she holds her arm in the air and lets out all the air I've been holding in.

"I've let you disrespect me and do whatever you want with my life because I haven't had the balls to stop you, but I'll tell you something Kamila, I'm tired. I won't allow you to keep humiliating me, much less treating me as you please. I'll take all my things right now and you won't hear from me again."

"And how will you pay for the damages you've caused?"

I raise an eyebrow and smirk. "Are you talking about what I broke in anger a few seconds ago?" Kamila nods more calmly and I shrug. "I bought it with my own money anyway."

She grumbles but doesn't argue with what I've said. The next few hours are spent packing all my things into a suitcase and putting them in the car. I thought she would start telling me things about her life, but she hasn't said anything, she's been silent watching TV. I see her from behind and feel a constriction in my chest, she has a hickey on her neck, we ended things not long ago and she hasn't taken long to find someone else.

I sigh at the awkwardness of the moment and realize this is the last box to take out. I look around and feel an immense urge to cry, I hate being so sentimental, I look like a wimp.

"I've got a job," she mentions, picking up the box from the floor. She stands up to look at me and a small smile threatens to escape her lips. "I'm a teacher now."

"How's it going? I don't remember you like kids, you always said they were unbearable."

"I work at a university, they're people close to our age. I thought it would be worse and today a girl was being a pain in class, but I guess that's normal. There will always be people in your life being a pain."

"You're right," she whispers.

I don't realize what I've said until I see her lower her head and quickly raise it again. I give up on the idea of saying anything else and rush out the door, not taking the time to say goodbye, I just see her looking at me and leave.

I wonder if I should feel remorse for making her feel bad, but I can't find anything, no guilt, no similar feeling. I'm in the air, just thinking about having to cook when I get to Jeremias' house puts me in a bad mood, plus I should start looking for an apartment, if I keep living with him I'll go crazy. Deep down I'm grateful he let me stay at his house, I was planning to save up before finding a place, but I'm still not sure.

"So why did you call me?" he asks, doubtful, and Johan clicks his tongue.

I was alone in Jeremias' house, waiting for something to happen in my life, but nothing was going on. I watched the clock hanging on the wall move for over half an hour and tried to find a program on TV that would catch my attention, but nothing worked, nothing seemed good enough for today. Amid my desperation to have someone to go out with, I turned to Johan, the guy I met at university whose hobby is smoking in class. I should have taken the cigarette away from him just like I did with Gwen, but my macho side told me that a cigarette looks worse on women.

Gwen stands out in the crowd, not in a good way, I've been watching her pass through the university in recent days. She stays late playing cards with the theater club and watches movies on her phone at lunchtime, she never looks at me, or the people around her, it's just her and what she's doing at the moment. At first, I thought it was wrong to watch her, I even felt like a stalker, but then I noticed that it was just curiosity, curiosity to know what made her act that way.

Johan pushes the chair back and sits down, the sound of the wood hitting the floor irritates me and makes me grimace.

"I thought teachers couldn't be friends with their students."

"I don't give a damn what teachers do, at the end of the day I didn't study to be one. I don't understand how there are people who think that being a teacher is the best thing or that it will bring them something good in life. I've been teaching for a week and I've only gotten headaches."

"Everyone in the university loves you," he sighs. "They say you're like another student, they like you, they think you're cool."

Johan's voice is deep but pleasant to hear, it makes me feel like I've made a new friend. During the week I teach class, I talk to him in the hallways, we sit in the cafeteria and talk about the people who work there and buy sweets that we both like. I don't feel like part of the teacher's club because most of them are much older than me, Jeremias lives from one side to the other yelling at the students and I was supposed to help him. But it overwhelms me to have to shout all the time.

I've been learning to get along with my students, sometimes I joke with them and sometimes I scold them a little without reason so they don't think they can do whatever they want with me. It's part of the job, every time I remember Kamila's eyes, I feel bad, I'm a carefree person, I care about few things, but she... she mattered so much to me that I was willing to do anything.

"Since when do you socialize with them?" I poke him, it's been more than three courses already, and he likes to do individual assignments and doesn't talk much to his classmates, he's a lonely guy and doesn't seem to like people very much.

"I just listen to what they say. And I have friends, Conrad, just not in my class, everyone has their groups and the only two people who don't have them are Gwen and Kevin."

"Kevin is a smart guy."

"Kevin is a nerd," he rolls his eyes.

"If you keep thinking that everyone who studies is a nerd, I'm going to stop talking to you."

"Were you a nerd in college too?"

"How do you think I graduated so soon?" I raise an eyebrow and he nods absentmindedly. Johan is smart, and his grades are one of the best, but he acts out of it, he smokes, drinks, gets tattoos, and now and then he uses stronger toxic s*bstances. We became friends by smoking, but now I think it's wrong for him to do it. Especially since he does it so often.

The boy settles into his chair and asks for a latex, I watch as he types so quickly on his phone and it surprises me because I dare say that few people type as fast as he does. I am curious to know what makes him so good at it, or what he does to type so quickly, most people use their phones for basic things or that's what I've been believing all my life.

"Where did you learn to type like that?"

"I'm a writer," he says nervously. "I write erotic novels."

"Erotic?" I ask confused, I could swear I heard wrong but he nods apologetically. For a guy who rides a motorcycle and runs like a beast, he has feelings. I try not to laugh and focus a little more on what he has told me. I didn't know there was a writer in my class, but I'm sure many people wouldn't call that literature. "You should show me what you write, I'd like to read it."

"Dude, you don't want to read how your student and new friend write sex scenes."

"You're right," I smile. "I don't want to."