Shortsighted

It was 8.15 AM. By the time she arrived at her lecture theatre, the cold morning wind had frozen every finger and turned her nose into an ice berg. She was early. The lecture theatre was almost empty except for three other early comers. She avoided eye contact and quickly found her way to her usual chair in the fourth row. 

She took out her notepad and pen, pulled her sleeves over her cold hands and anxiously waited for the minutes to pass. 

Other students arrived, mainly in groups of twos and threes. She inspected every new comer’s face. She was obviously waiting for someone.

As the theatre filled with students, the feeling of disappointment grew on her face. 

Eventually the lecturer arrived, head down, hair roughly bunched up and spiked on his head, and his arms pushing wearily a trolley containing an overhead projector and a bundle of scribbled-on overhead sheets. He was murmuring something to the projector.

8.30 AM. Class began.

“He’s not coming” she whispered. No one heard her, because there was no one sitting in close proximity. No one ever did. 

Her face took on a gloomy expression. She adjusted her glasses and opened her note pad. She fiddled with her pen. “He must come”, she thought. “I can’t do this without him. Why is he not here?” Her eyes gathered a couple of tears that rested on her lashes for a minute before recalling herself to her surroundings. She quickly wiped the drops with the ends of her sleeves. 

She tried to focus, but she could not understand what the lecturer was saying. 

The cause of her anguish is the absence of her inspiration, mentor and spiritual mate. He failed to come this morning to hold her hand and guide her. Today was the last lecture. He had attended with her every lecture for the whole year, except this one. 

He always had on him his worn-out blue jumper. It was his trademark and part of his identity. He wore black framed spectacles and had his hair carefully combed to the side. He kind of looked like Clark Kent, or at least that was what she thought. 

The truth is he really was her superman in disguise; her savior. At first, his presence gave her security. He was always there, a familiar face, who looked as lonely as her yet seemed unaware or even careless of that fact. He was always absorbed in the lecturer’s presentation, answering difficult equations, asking meaningful questions. He was doubtless a confident and clever young man.

This man became her mentor and hero. It was for him that she dared to answer questions, although the first time she tried to do so, her voice disappeared, her face flushed bright red and her heart leaped out of her mouth. She eventually managed to mutter the answer. From that moment she promised herself that she would never let him down. So she continued to raise her hand and answer questions. 

She even began asking questions herself- just for him. She began to enjoy her classes- because of him. They both became co-stars of the class. And all this was solely to gain his respect and approval. This superman gave her the courage to blossom and flower into the person that she was albeit for the wrong reasons.

She did not even know his name and never had the courage to speak with him directly a single word. Not even a “hi”. She had passed him many times in the corridors of the Engineering faculty. She came face to face with him almost everyday going in and out of lectures - But not a word. She actually preferred this silent acknowledgement to a thousand meaningless conversations. 

She was sure he noticed her. She subconsciously hoped that he equally admired her and secretly reaped support and comfort from his presence.

This was supposed to be their last class together for the year. He was not here to share this monumental occasion with her and help her through it all. What was worse is that she had finally managed to buy herself a pair of glasses. She had been saving up for it the whole year and eventually managed to correct her shortsightedness with her new spectacles. She desperately wanted to see him now; to confirm and engrave his features in her mind. Everything looked so crisp and clear through her spectacles. The colours beautifully distinct with boundaries. No fuzziness. But too late. Who knows when she will ever see him again.

The lecture ended. Not a word in her notepad. She packed her things in her bag and slowly moved towards the exit door. She waited for everyone to leave then dragged her heavy heart behind her and left the theater – for the last time.

“Excuse me, would you mind if I asked you a question”. She lifted her head to identify the speaker. Black framed spectacles, hair carefully combed to one side, but a green and blue striped jumper?! It was him, but how can that be? What happened to Clark Kent. His brilliant clever brown eyes were not there. Instead, a set of round very ordinary and some what smallish grey eyes hid behind his thick spectacles. His face was dotted with pimples, his forehead sweaty, his eyebrows flat and expressionless. 

He wanted her help in solving a complex equation on a past exam paper. He presented the paper with the question. His hands were nervous and his finger nails were extremely short as a result of habitual biting.

She recovered graciously from the shock and accompanied him to the library to solve the problem. 

That day, she gained a new sense of independence. She was free at last. She did not need Clark Kent anymore.


Saba Hakim