*Names have been changed for the mental health of those involved. Venues keep their names ‘cuz I dunno.

It was the coldest February I’ve known so far. Snow usually stopped around mid-january, and you could get the odd dusting here and there, except on March of 2012, when we got a proper snowfall and school was off for a couple of days.

I take off my outer layer, as the snowflakes casually melt at the foyer of The Forum. I rub my hands together, as gloves are useless and I’ve never owned a pair that actually keeps my hands warm. I scan the place, and my heart sinks when I don’t see her Giselle anywhere. Her straw hair and pensive stare, nowhere to be found.

My phone buzzes. It’s a text message from her. Oh dear, she’s cancelled, hasn’t she? This walk was for nothing, I should’ve stayed at home just like the last month and a half. Defeated by the doorknob every time I was ready to leave.

“Sam, I’m at the Common Room. Where are you?”

Ah, it was the place next door. In 10 months time, we will actually meet here here, at The Forum, for a chorizo burger, a lager, and a solemn goodbye, as I would leave Sheffield then. It was a sunny december day of 2013 and I would catch a train later to see Katriona and leave her copies of the zine and also say goodbye.

But today, it’s snowing, it’s gloomy, and I feel lost in my soon to be failed PhD. Giselle is next door and I don’t bother covering up, I just dash to the Common Room, up the stairs, past the cocktail style Pacman and Galaga arcades and sit in front of Giselle, with her pensive stare and a warm smile.

Giselle starts talking, trying to ease me down. She knows I’m prone to bouts of depression and I close up and hide instead of trying to move on. Both the counseling services and a few post-graduates have tried reaching me and this feels really like a wellness check.

“Have you been to the office? Steve is really worried about you, Sam.”

I nod a simple “no”. She changes the topic, goes on tirades about food, her home country, and about the weather. I never want to interrupt her when she goes into her wordy expositions. The way she weaves long sentences and changes subjects without feeling like a diatribe from a corner preacher sidehustling The Big Issue is a great skill from her.

“Isn’t it funny? You’re Mexican, and you should be warm and chatty. I’m from [REDACTED] and I should be silent and cold.”

I draw a faint smile and agree. We have our hands over the table, but separated. I’ve had inklings of her having some sort of feeling for me, but I’ve never been 100% sure of what those feelings are. Sometimes it feels like a deep friendship, other times like something stronger. On her last birthday party at her gaff, where I jokingly referred to Sheffield’s Orthanc Tower, I felt there might’ve been something else. She tried to pair me up with a friend of hers from Egypt, but it didn’t work out.

Orthanc tower. She didn’t care for the reference back then, and I spent most of the time cooking and making cocktails. I tried talking with the woman from Egypt and it was mostly shop talk about cooking methods. Giselle eventually asked if anything happened and I told her no. She said “shame, I had hopes for you two.”

If I grasp to that remark, then any suspicions of “something else” are null, right? I overthink about Giselle and I when our food arrives. She has a burger and a 1664 lager. I get a chili dog and Bulmer’s pear cider. We take our sweet time eating and drinking, and I interject sometimes, but I let her do the talking.

“Your microKorg broke, right? Could you fix it?” she inquires about my old synth and I explain I’m not so good with electronics anymore. I don’t have dosh for a new one and I shrug it off. “I have a synth at home. Why don’t you come any day and play a while?” I remember she had a large casio one at her room and I tell her I’ll make some time and take the offer. “Please do, play anything you want.” I try not to think too much about it, I don’t want to fuck up her friendship, which has been supportive since the start.

We go silent for a while as we finish our food. The flurry outside intensifies. I fear for a sudden blizzard. “We can wait. Do you want coffee? I’ll get us some coffee. Is lavazza okay for you? Or do you want to go to Costa? Or Café Nero?” I tell her the coffee here smells just right, no need to traverse the storm. She orders two coffees, and a banoffee slice for sharing. It’s velvety and delicious. The coffee doesn’t disappoint and we keep talking for a good while.

It’s almost 4 pm, and the sky’s gone a light hue of blue. Early dusk is starting to affect me. It didn’t before. This bout of depression feels stronger than the last one and The Sinister Thought (TM) has been doing the rounds again. I can’t go through with it, though. I just can’t.

Giselle gets the bill, and will not take any talkback from me. “My treat” she says and winks. She says she must go back to the office. A three hour lunch is not well-perceived over here, but she’s risking plenty being with me, trying to get me out of the funk. I don’t know how to thank her, and as we finish prepping up to go back into the now subdued flurry, I tell her thank you. A mousy gesture, but her eyes widen.

We go outside, and as we get ready to cross the street, she turns around. “Please come back” she says, “we all miss you”. I have no words and just give her a quick hug. She hugs back, stronger. It becomes an embrace and suddenly, the cold weather no longer surrounds us. We are no longer standing on a snowy Division Street. It’s somewhere else, where birds sing around us and lush vegetation surrounds us. It’s less than a minute, but feels like an eternity. We look at each other, and she seems to be expecting something, anything from me. I just put my head on her shoulder again, nixing anything else from happening. We hold both hands for a moment and she pleads for me to take care. I yelp “will do” and a quick “thanks”.

She becomes closer again, but I let go of her and go for a quick hug. She then disappears up the hill, climbing with all her might up Eldon Street,then turning to Mappin Street, back to her office. I just stand there, chastising myself for not doing anything. A stirring maelstrom of emotions washes me over, as the sky turns sapphire blue, and the hallucination of a kiss comes and goes. Then I brush it off curtly. “Sam, she is in a relationship”. My argument to squash any fluttering thought in my mind. A snowflake lands on my cheek, and slowly melts. “Rock and roll. Deal with it.” I walk back home, becoming just a shadow in the bluish white background forming around me.

-Sam J. Valdés López