Uncle Nolan

HAZEL

It is a sunny Wednesday afternoon, and the bright sun blows mildly among the branches of the towering trees on the school's campus.

Excelencia University is a high-ranking tertiary institution I attend, and presently, I am just returning from the library, a place I choose to study a few times weekly.

In my left hand is a takeaway bag containing Caleb's favorite lunch: Southwestern Chicken Salad, which consists of grilled chicken, mixed greens, black beans, diced tomatoes, corn and jalapeños.

This has always been his favorite and I can already picture his face lighting up at the sight of everything, that enticing smile of his.

But as soon as I reach the first block of the old theater, something else catches my attention that makes me pause.

There is a crowd of students gathered just by the corner of the building, giggling and muttering inaudible words among themselves. Looking above them, I notice that they have their phones raised high, busy with recording every single event before them.

And that action, whatever it is, seems to be quite intriguing. In the midst of these, I increase in pace, reaching up to where they stand, and eagerly trying to behold also the happening.

First, it is the sight of a shameless couple who are involve in their intimate moment, entangled in intimacy. Sure enough, the sight is irritating, prompting me to turn aside quickly until a familiar color of hair rings in my memory.

With no further delay, I look intently at the couple, first at the young lady who cannot get her hands off the partner's head, and lastly, the young man himself.

The world feels like it is spinning in slow motion. My vision blurs as I process everything happening right before me.

I watch how my boyfriend of three years, Caleb Hudson's lips, sweep over hers, in a soft and slow manner, as if they had done it a long time. Her hands are tangled in his hair as she presses into him with so much confidence.

For a moment, I want to remain unseen, so I take a step backward, then another. My heartbeat racing in my chest, and my throat feeling tight that I have no strength to scream nor breathe.

And just when I think the world cannot get any louder than imagined, a voice breaks through the crowd.

"Hazel?"

I don't know if I am still in the midst of the small crowd, but somehow I hear my name being called repeatedly. I can sense many pitiful looks from afar watching me as I run out of the theater block.

Far away from the public shame, the camera flashes, the whispers. This is my life.

I don't stop until I am inside my car, breathing heavily, as my hands grip the headrest so tightly that my knuckles turn white.

"Please drive the car." I beg the driver, Frank, with the last strength I have.

Swiftly he obeys as he speeds towards home, and as the city street blurs around me, I ignore the sound of my breath that keeps echoing in the midst of the silence.

Frank reaches home sooner than other times as a result of the level of speed he puts. He parks the black car in the garage as I alight, heading straight for the huge entryway.

The urge to disappear into my room and weep my eyes out without interacting with anyone, envelops me, but that is far from reality because the moment my feet hit the living room, I sight my parents already seated in the living room.

Though the soft hum of the TV fills the whole space when I first enter, and I cannot deny the tension between them that makes it feel like I am walking into a storm.

I send brief, yet respectful greetings to them while strategically hiding my red-puffed eyes in order not to cause worry on their sides.

However, at that minute, my mother, whose back faces me, voices a statement that sounds casual but at the same time intense.

"Hazel, we need to discuss. Kindly turn aside." She speaks gently, turning aside from her knitting. She stares intensely into my face, barely noticing how swollen my eyes are and also the storm brewing in my chest.

I obey by stepping closer, patiently waiting for her to break the news or whatever it is. But instead of her speaking, it is Dad who takes the lead.

There seems to be an exchange of a long look between them before Dad finally sighs and drops the news. "Nolan's coming to stay with us."

I blink, confused for a moment. "Nolan? Who is Nolan?"

That name sounds familiar for some reason, but I need to ask for clarity.

"Your father's best friend." Mother says, "He's back from overseas. He's taking over the construction project for the new building expansion at the company. We offered him one of the rooms. He'll be staying for a few months or so."

I feel something cold and unexplainable in my chest in his name. He is my father's old friend. The man I last saw in my early teenage years.

At a certain time, he also becomes my best friend due to his generosity and kindness. He soon gets distant from me or, so I think, more or less like running from something beyond him.

"When will he arrive?" I whisper, having no idea why I ask.

"Tomorrow." Dad responds sharply, his face fully concentrated on a certain popular TV show that is on display. "He'll be here in the morning."

I nod slowly, trying to process everything at once. Nolan's sudden arrival and why my parents don't see anything wrong with that.

My eyes drift to my phone which buzzes in my schoolbag along the stairs. Glancing at the previewed message and its sender, I almost let out an annoyed hiss.

The message is brief as it reads: "I know I really messed up, Hazel. I betrayed you and made caricature of our relationship in public. Please, just listen to me. I need you to reply to this message. I love you."

But my fingers just hover over the screen, suppressing the urge to violently smash the phone on the floor.

I am wronged, betrayed, disgraced publicly, and he has the audacity to message me barely an hour after satisfying himself? He's got to be kidding me!

I don't know what happens next, but the following morning, I am awakened to the sound of muffled voices down the stairs. I hear the slam of the front door, followed by the deep baritone laugh that sounds too familiar, floating through the whole house.

I shoot up in my bed, ignoring the intense heartbeat surging up, and start padding towards the hallway.

The noise grows even louder, following a series of thuds echoing straight from the living room.

I peek over the railing and at the perfect time see him: the man who will be staying with us for the next few months.

Father is pulling two suitcases from the booth of his black car into the house. Nolan stands behind him, tall and imposing, his dark baggy jeans and purple turtle-neck top fitting him like a second skin.

His jaw is sharp, his expression totally unreadable as he fits his hand into his pockets, his eyes studying the surroundings.

He goes ahead to help Father with the suitcase from the entrance. I realize he doesn't look the same. He is different, totally different from the man who used to go on secret outings with me and ruffle my hair.

This man is all sharp edges, eyes colder and more distant than I remember. Before he can look up the stairs and catch me staring, I skeddadle into my bedroom, shutting the door behind me and resting on it.

The man who I never wish to see returns to my life.

Shifting those thoughts aside, I dress up quickly for school, just wearing blue jeans, a fitted black top and a pair of my favorite sneakers. My phone has been charging all night, face-down the lampstand because I had shut it off after receiving a series of uncomfortable and endless pings about the scandal of the previous day.

The scandal is now spreading faster than wildfire, but I choose to ignore it.

I unplug the phone, shove it into my bag, and turn the knob on the door, only to nearly collide with him: Nolan.

He is coming out of the room two doors away from mine, the door tightly closed behind him. I nod my head absentmindedly, taking note of where he will be staying now.

His hair is damp like he's just taken a bathe, and his dark eyes are fixed on me the whole time.

"Morning, Hazel." His voice is warm and casual. I want to run into his arms and scream his name like six years ago, but I'm all grown now.

"Morning. Welcome to staying with us." I say awkwardly, my gaze instantly darting to the stairs.

I don't know why, but I just want to get out of there, at that very minute.

"You're returning to campus?" He asks, like he's been dying to talk so badly to me for the past six years.

"Of course, I am," I respond. My answer is clipped, polite and nothing else, even though I want to know how he's aware I now attend an institution.

He falls a step behind me, and I suddenly become acutely aware of all of his movements, which includes his measured footsteps, the faint scent of his cologne, and the way the air seems heavier with him in it.

I cannot also deny my mind playing tricks, making me feel his gaze on my back.

I don't bother looking back, rather heading straight for the kitchen and walking up to the fridge and sending a greeting to mother who is preparing breakfast.

"You've not met Nolan this morning, have you?" She asks, rinsing the veggies and placing them on a chop board. I turn aside to the washing sink after grabbing a cold can of fruit juice, studying the wall like it is worth it.

"I did see him, just now, along the stairs." I reply quickly, zipping my bag noiselessly.

The fridge door opens again behind me and I don't have to turn to know it is him. Out of the corner of my left eye, I catch him taking out the bottled water, twisting the cap with one hand.

Mother stops the slicing halfway, washes and wipes her hands on a dishtowel. "You should eat something before leaving. I see you grabbing a fruit juice can. Honestly, I don't want you to have ulcer."

"I'll grab something later at school." I lie, already edging toward the living room.

I reach up to Dad seated and watching a different TV show and bend a little to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Have a good day, Hazel." He says.

I round up the couch, my eyes meeting his. Nolan is standing by the dining table now, water bottle still in hand, and watching me.

Not in a casual way, but as though he is trying to read something particular about me. Trying to fathom why I haven't spoken more than a line with him since we met.

And to be frankly speaking, I do not have any idea why I feel things might get deeply different between us.

I look away and slip out of the door. The air outside is crisp, and looking ahead, I see Frank already waiting in the car. He's been the same calm driver who's been with our family for years.

He greets me as I walk closer. "Morning, miss."

I pause, recalling how I had barely talked to him the previous day. "Morning, Frank. I'm sorry for snubbing you yesterday. Seriously, I wasn't in a good mood." I apologize sincerely.

In the last few years, Frank's grown to be one of the few people who really understands me. He nods and opens the door for me.

"I understand." He smiles.

I slid into the back seat, exhaling.

The drive to campus goes smoothly, peacefully till we gradually reach the school's environment, particularly the gigantic gates.

I notice, even before we turn onto the main lot, the huge clusters of students who gather in small groups, their voices hush as their eyes follow me as the car rolls past.

I have always driven a particular kind of car to school and I don't need to guess that they are still gossiping about the public disgrace I experienced a day ago.

The whispers swell even more when I step out of the car, but I keep my chin high, not allowing the gossips to get to me, even when the stares feel like static on my skin.

After sending a brief wave to Frank, I turn in the direction of my department, that is, the Department of Electrical Engineering, promising myself never to turn till I reach my destination.

However, at that minute, someone's voice breaks through the murmurs. I turn quickly to see Caleb approaching too casually and wearing that crooked smile, like the last twenty-four hours haven't been disastrous.

"I've been trying to talk to you." He starts cockily, his tone making me boil from within. He continues, "Why didn't you reply to my messages last night? Hazel, see, I can explain about yesterday-"

He is yet to finish when my palm connects with his cheek in a loud, sharp crack. Trust me, the sound echoes.

The whole place falls silent, except the loud buzz of phone cameras snapping every action. The sting in my hand cannot be compared to the sting I want him to feel.

His head jerks to the side, his jaw tightening as if he cannot believe I slap him. And before he can even process anything, I reach into my bag, pull out the chilled juice taken earlier, pop it open and tip it over his head.

The liquid runs down his hair, dripping onto his shirt, and soaking every part of his body. He stands frozen, his expression shifting from shock to that of disbelief.

"Are you insane? Can't you at least listen to me? You slap me and now this?" He sputters, roughly wiping the juice off his eyes.

"You've got no damn excuse for cheating publicly. Even so, you have never kissed me the way you kissed her yesterday!"

He steps closer, increasing his voice just enough to allow a few people around us to hear it.

"Because you have never allowed me to get past just kissing." He laughs. "You've never let me touch you anywhere, ever. You are so sensitive about your body."

My stomach twists as fury burns hot under my skin. So that is it? The reason behind his infidelity comes as a refusal to access my body.

I turn around and walk away, feeling every pair of eyes burning into my back. Caleb is a motherfucker, and I am done with him.

Additionally, I am grateful for not giving him my virginity.

This is something I now vow never to give out to any man, come what may.

Inside the department, the gentle and cool breeze hit my face as I collapse into the nearest chair, trying hard to maintain my breathing.

I dip a hand bringing out a notebook when the empty seat beside me creaks as a figure slides near. I turn to see Nyx Carlos, the closest female companion I have in this school, staring at me with a blend of curiosity and restrained excitement.

"You know," she begins, sounding low. "The school's group chats have been on fire for a day. People can't stop talking about Caleb's public intense kiss."

She tilts her head and asks. "Do you know who the girl is?"

"No." I shake my head, seemingly uninterested.

"Cassie Rain." She says, watching my reaction closely. "The third-richest girl in the university. Her family owns the big Rain Textiles. It is that big fabric business group that sponsors a quarter of the school events."

The name clicks in my head like a puzzle falling into place. My memory flashes back to weeks ago when I read news about some rich girl visiting Caleb's apartment after lectures.

I had brushed it off, thinking it is merely a circulating rumor. Now I know, he's been following her because she is richer and better connected to assist his financial needs than me.

I am yet to think through that thought when the loud bang of the department door crashing open jolts everyone.

Caleb strides in furiously, his fists clench and eyes lock on me with a murderous glare enough to crack a glass.

"You fool, you think you can disgrace me and leave?" He thunders, making a few students nearby jump.

My heart skips. For a split second, I conclude he is actually going to harm me mercilessly. But then the door opens again, and a female lecturer walks in, her heels clicking noisily on the floor.

"Young man, sit down!" She snaps, thankfully cutting through the tension. "Get a seat or get lost. Choose any."

The rest of the lecture passes in a twinkle of an eye. My mind is split between my notes and the fear brewing in my chest.

Caleb is going to attack me, and I am helpless.

When the last lecturer leaves, I jump and pack up my belongings faster than I ever did, and head for the door without glancing sideways.

The exit is just ahead when I feel a sudden, callous grip clamp around my wrist.

I spun quickly, my breath catching. Caleb's face is twisted in something between desperation and fury.

"Where are you going? You think you can humiliate me that way and just disappear?" He demands, his voice lace with venom.

"Let go of me, Caleb." I tremble, my pulse shoots up, panic tightening my throat.

I try pushing him off, but he doesn't bulge.

Before he can do anything terrible, the same female lecturer, Ms. Courtney's voice rings out from a distance, particularly from the podium.

"Let go of that young woman, Caleb Hudson. We allow no harassment in this institution."

Her tone leaves no room for hesitation, so he releases me with a shove that makes me stumble back a step.

I bolt through the door, weaving in the midst of passing students until I see Frank's car parked by the gates. Without checking, I slid into the seat, slamming it shut right behind me.

The car doesn't move an inch for a while, so I look through the rearview mirror and freeze.