a "personal narrative"

this was supposed to be a personal narrative, but it ended up being more fiction than fact. there's your disclaimer.

Personal Narrative: “Jenny – TA”

Logan Brown

Utah State University

The zip of my pack was unnaturally loud. I pulled it closed and listened as I rummaged through the next pouch. I pulled on the braid tied through the zipper, and focused my eyes on the teeth as they closed. I wasn’t paying much attention to the pack, the experiment, or even the animals. My thoughts were focused on that large, white, steel door. I paused, pulled on my coat, gloves, glasses, and then meticulously checked each pocket for their respective contents; my wallet, keys, phone, headphones, and two pens were all in their homes. I was ready to sling my pack over my shoulder – much like a soldier – and reach for the handle. I stalled again, if only for a moment. I reached out for the handle, twisted, and pushed it open just enough to slip through the opening into what I thought was an abandoned hall.

The first thing I saw as I passed through that doorway was the white of her eyes. For a split-second she was inches away, and we both jumped back in surprise. A few papers slid out of a beat up manila folder that sat on the top of a stack of books she was carrying. She swept them back into the folder with a twist of her hips and swing of her arms. She certainly knows how to move… I thought during the instant she was focused on the papers, before her attention turned back to me.

“Sooo… How’s your bird?” she asked clumsily as we returned to a socially acceptable distance. We chatted about my bird’s weight, the experiment session I had just run, and a few peculiarities I ran into; my bird had laid an egg the previous night, and she pointed out jokingly that I would have to start refer to “Him” as “Her.” My mind wandered as she spoke; as her gaze left my eyes, I glanced at her gorgeous golden hair. Her bangs had fallen out of place when I had almost bumped into her, and I felt the urge to brush them back over her ear. Her skin was smooth, soft, and pale; a sign she had been working long daylight hours tucked away in a lab. My gaze returned to her eyes as hers shifted back to mine, and my tiny indiscretion went unnoticed.

The background seemed to fade, shift, and develop a stark contrast as she spoke. It became like a movie scene. I couldn’t help but notice her chest rise as she sighed and flipped her bangs to the side in slow motion. Her voice became softer and slower, almost sultry. She stopped speaking, and a look of desire seemed to cross her face. She stepped close, lifted her head, and rose up onto her toes…

“… What do you think, Logan?” my attention jerked back to reality and the conversation. The colors instantly returned to normal. She was just standing there with her bangs hanging in the same spot they had been a moment ago; she had a kind expression on her face, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

“I, well, I’m not sure.” I answered sheepishly. I only hoped that she wouldn’t notice that I had drifted off into a daydream. “Um, I should probably get going to my next class, but I’ll see you later, Jenny.” She smiled as we said goodbye, and I entered the corridor that was now truly empty. I’m still not sure what it was that I was unsure about.

My footsteps echoed through the hall, and my mind ran through what had just happened. Images flashed through my mind ranging from wholesome to suggestive, and broached on wildly explicit. I did what I had done in these situations since I hit puberty; I pledge allegiance to the flag… My mind began to clear, as I mentally recited the pledge. With liberty, and justice for all. I pledge allegiance to her beautiful eyes, I want to press my palm against the small of her back, pull her into a firm embrace, we’d kiss as her hands grab my shoulders, pulling me in - my heart races her hands reach under my shirt running up my abs to my chest and one of my hands drops down to grab her ass pulling her in as my otherhandcaresseshercheek… I stopped in my tracks. 10 feet from the exit I clinched my eyes shut, bowed my head, shook it, and tried to clear my thoughts. I only hoped I could before they became too outwardly obvious—via my tightening jeans—so I could head to my next class.

Class finished with a low roar of students clapping books shut, the rustle of papers, and a low din of students talking about this and that. I stood up and paged through my phone, wondering whom I could take out on a date tomorrow night. As I scrolled down through the g’s, h’s, and I’s, I passed Jenny’s entry. “Jenny – TA” seemed to glow brighter than the rest of the names on the screen. I gathered my belongings one handed as I wrote a text.

“hey jenny, r u busy tomorrow night? wanna grab some pizza and catch a movie, or something? :)” As soon as I wrote the smiley face, I furiously pressed the backspace button. I kept walking out of the classroom, and down the stairs. I re-wrote it twice more, coming up with

“hey jenny, do u have some spare time tomorrow? i need help w/ my paper.” I stared at it, my thumb hovering over the send button. WHACK! I hit my toe on a doorframe, leaving a dark smudge on the otherwise pristinely white toe of my brand new converse all-stars. I heard a muffled snicker from behind me; I turned, and saw some guy’s face as he looked away and turned down a side-hall. I stepped back and bent down to try to wipe it off; I guess it had other plans because no amount of spit was removing it. I looked back at my phone, and just caught the “message sent” animation flash across the screen. I wanted to throw it. I was going to erase the message… or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. As I started shaking my phone—not unlike one should NEVER do to an infant—it vibrated in my hand. I looked on the screen and saw a little envelope symbol, under which were the words “Jenny – TA.”

I decided to wait until I got to my next class to read the text. As I walked across campus, it seemed like the world was speeding up just for me. I tried walking slower, but the flowing push of the river of people didn’t really help. I still ended up at class five minutes before it started. I braced myself, and opened up the text.

“What time?” was all that was written. What an anticlimax. I can’t believe I was worried about it. I typed back a hasty note,

“b4 class maybe?” and got an almost instant reply,

“cant. Mtg. how about later, like 4-ish?” my fingers tapped out,

“sure. ur office?” and paused. I thought about it for a moment, and remembered my weekly volunteering from 2-4. I erased the three words and wrote, “no, im @ humane society from 2-4. my pups need me. sry. how about after? like, 5ish? i’ll bring pizza.” Only after I sent this one did I realize that I did just what I had set out to do, even if I did renege for a moment. I couldn’t help but feel somewhat relieved, because it was already out there. Looking back, I’m sure my phone was relieved that I had achieved so much growth since my last text mishap. The phone vibrated just as I was picturing myself shaking it a moment ago. I held my breath as I pressed the button to open the text.

“Awwwww that’s so cute! i’m done w/ work on campus by 430, if u can make it I’ll stay till 5. No need 4 pizza, this shouldn’t be long.” My heart sank. Well, at least I’ll get some work done on my paper. I thought, as class started. I typed a quick,

“k. see u @ ur office” before putting away my phone.

I washed the soap off of my hands. My roommate walked into the apartment and closed the door. After taking a couple of steps across the linoleum of the kitchen he hollered out,

“Whoa Logan! Did you just get back from the shelter, or did you bring home a hobo again?” I poked my head out of the bathroom and called back across the apartment,

“Nope, no hobos. Sorry about the stink, Dallin! I haven’t stuck my clothes in the washing machine yet. I’m putting ‘em in right now.” I lifted the lid and pulled the knob to start the machine. I stripped down, threw my clothes in, and closed the lid. “Hey, Dallin? Would you toss my towel over here? I forgot to grab it.”

“sure, no problem.” I heard come from up the hall in our room. I turned on the water, stepped in, and soon heard the soft thud of my towel falling on the machine as I was lathering up. “Well, I’m off to the library. Need anything else?” I heard him say through the door, along with the rustling of his backpack through the small opening in the doorway.

“nah, I’m good. I may meet up with you later, though, we’ll see. I’ll text you. Take care, man.”

“You too, buddy.” I heard him walk off, and then the apartment door banged closed. It always did that, so I wasn’t worried that he was angry. I finished up hurriedly, threw on some clothes, and ran out the door to cycle up to campus.

I knocked on the door to Jenny’s office. From within came her familiar southern accent calling,

“Come on in, it’s open!” I slowly opened the door, and saw her leaning over some papers on her desk. She looked up, and for a moment I had a perfect view of her cleavage. “Hey Logan! I was getting worried you wouldn’t show!” she said as she sat up. The conversation went on, and I pulled out my laptop. She pulled a chair over next to her desk, and gestured for me to set it down. We went over the report, and as I put my computer back in my bag we started talking about things like class, professors, experiments, and graduate school. She helped me understand some choices I have; it surprised me that her alma mater was my first choice even before I learned she was from there. I slipped and called the University of Florida “FU,” and we both laughed. My hand unwittingly fell on hers as it sat there on the desk. She froze, and her gaze went straight to it. Her face shifted into the same expression I’d seen on my childhood babysitter when I asked her to marry me; her mouth was in a half smile, and her eyebrows were upturned with pity—possibly remorse—in her eyes. I retracted my hand, and let out a soft,

“My bad.”

“Logan, in case you’re wondering, it’s against school policy for a teacher’s assistant to date one of their students.” She said, still with that look on her face.

I hastily replied, “No no, it’s ok. I mean, it’s my bad. I didn’t mean to, don’t worry…” as my voice trailed off, I forcibly decided I wouldn’t let there be an awkward pause. “So, which professor would you recommend I contact down at UF?” her face brightened up as she smiled, and we chatted for a few more minutes. I thanked her for her help on my paper, to which she smiled and replied,

“Anytime. See you later, Logan.”

“Later, Jenny.” I smiled as I turned and walked out the door, thinking to myself, I wonder how many days are left for this semester…