THE PROBLEM
But the problem lay not so much in the problem itself but in the problems that he felt about his
depression. It wasn’t just that he was depressed, it was that he was therefore depressing, towards
himself and all those around him. Sucking the life of every happy moment, projecting and arcing aurora
of negative energy in a kind of reverse feng-shui as he sulked and skulked about in the corners of rooms.
His friends tried to include him as best they could, but this only made him feel more depressed, because
they were the ones making the effort to drag this morbid, succourless husk out of his own little world,
when it was him who should be making the effort. Why should they have to put up with him, me, he
thought, and though they would eventually give up the ghost, leaving him content that they no longer
felt him burdening them, he would arrive home to contemplate with disdain the way in which he felt left
out, out of touch, disconnected, misunderstood.
Humour used to be a good defensive mechanism, but as soon as he had become aware it of being a
defense mechanism he no longer felt comfortable using it. Better to face up to the facts than employ a
deflective irony. But with nothing with which to deflect, and a now acute awareness that an honesty
about troubles would only be a burden upon the clearly happy and content people around him, he could
only remain gravely silent, a furrowed brow christening his chastened pout.
LEILANI
I still remember the first day I saw her. It was in English. She had positioned
herself at the front of the classroom and I took the seat directly behind her. My
friend Rebecca walked in a few moments later and noticing that there was no
empty seat next to me, looked confused.
Sitting behind Leilani had not been my choice. Natural desire had pushed me that
way and it would have burned within me had a decided to sit anywhere else. It
might have been the darkness of her skin, compared to the paleness of all of ours
that pulled me in. Her lips were stained coral and she smelled like candy. I
assumed she did not know perfume and make-up were not allowed. Her hair was
a thick sheet of black and it hung over the back of her chair, taunting me. I
wanted so badly to stroke it and that longing scared me.
"Excuse me, ”she said, turning around. "How much is the Shakespeare collection
for this class ?
"I…I don’t know." Syllabi for all of our classes arrived in the mail in the summer. I
gave mine to my mother and she purchased all of the books. I'm sure my mother
didn't even know how much she paid for it. But Leilani made me wish I had cared.
I watched Leilani as she eyed a copy of the collection that was on the desk of the
girl beside her. Her eyes were distinct; almond like in shape and color. They had
drifted away from me and I needed them back. Wanting to say something so
badly