Double Check

Day 7: For the 7th time in a row, the morning was preambled by yet another weather related scandal. The roads were exceptionally lousy with fog. As I neared campus, the dense fog obscured absolutely everything, rendering me singular frightened wanderer adrift in a sea of brutal and unforgiving whiteness.

...not entirely unlike my first day of third grade.

Just before I pulled into the garage, I saw a set of twins, which was unusual enough by itself. Add to that, they were dressed alike - same hat, same jacket, same pants, same sneakers, same backpack - and they were walking in sync. One twin looked over his shoulder at me and gave me a strange look. The other twin echoed the move only moments later.

Weird. [redrum!]

I parked and made my way to the Student Union.

I sat down with a cup of coffee and a muffin and tried to come down. In my first class, I would most certainly have to face the professor I had flipped off the day before, and I had to prepare. The scene of me flipping him off played over and over in my mind, each time more exaggerated, more visceral, more obscene. I gobbled the muffin  and absentmindedly wiped my hands on my jeans.

"Maybe he wouldn't recognize me," I thought. "Maybe it wasn't him."

And then I saw him again in slow motion instant replay, his great glistening eyes wet and terminally apologetic, his hands gripping the steering wheel with the full passion of a fervent prayer. I saw myself delivering what may likely have been the most distinct and purposeful obscene gesture of my entire life, my finger flipping erect, rigid with hatred and malicious intent. Every bird I had flipped prior were instantly rendered tepid and irrelevant. It was as if a lifetime's worth of searching for the perfect expression of unmitigated displeasure took root and spontaneously sprang to being on my right hand.

There was no way he wouldn't recognize me. There was no way out of it. I would just have to accept my fate.

I slugged down my coffee, collected my things, and headed to class early, hoping that maybe I could catch the professor before class and apologize. I walked into the lecture hall and took a seat right up front. "No sense trying to dodge this bullet," I reasoned. "No sense putting off the inevitable." I gritted my teeth and busied myself with my tablet, waiting for him to walk in.

Student began to trickle in followed soon after by the TAs. I craned my neck toward the door, my tablet forgotten. He walked in with a great big smile on his face, his arms full of papers. He had traded in his smart button down long sleeved shirt for a decidedly casual (and much beloved from the look of it) polo shirt. I stood and began walking towards him but wasn't nearly fast enough. The TAs descended like seagulls and, in an instant, he was surrounded. I stood at a distance for a moment before giving up hope and sitting down.

Now things would be awkward. Now, when he saw me, there'd be no preceding explanation, just the raw, brutal, naked truth. I shuddered in anticipation.

Class began in earnest and I started sweating. For the first 30 minutes, he kept to one side of the lecture hall, never making eye contact. I raised my hand to answer a question, he scanned the room for a response, stopping just before getting to me, and continued, answering his own question. I swore under my breath.

And then something awesome happened.

We were discussing collective goods and he was using 195 as a reference. "Take 195," he said. "You didn't build... wait... I should... probably find a better way to phrase that."

He hadn't meant it as a joke but I laughed. I couldn't help it. And, miracle of miracles, he laughed with me.

For a few seconds, it was just he and I, laughing. The others either didn't get the joke or didn't find it funny. Either way, it gave us just enough time to have a moment. When he finally made eye contact, he was grinning ear to ear. I smiled back. I couldn't help it.

Later in the lecture while discussing the Prisoner's Dilemma  he crossed over to and lingered on my side of the lecture hall. "It's better to rat out your friend than stay silent," he said. "But if, somehow, the two of you can agree to be silent, you both win. Now that's so rare, it's foolish to even think of wishing for it. But, who knows? If you're willing to take that chance, maybe you'll get lucky."

He made eye contact. It was only for a moment, but it was long enough for something like forgiveness to pass between us. I think.

I hope.

Class ended and I resisted the urge to approach him and confirm anything. As I walked out of the hall, I cast a glance over my shoulder, just to check, just to be sure.

He was smiling. And he looked exactly like I felt:

Relieved.

I moved on and let the door close behind me.