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 Ten years earlier… I plucked up my courage and stepped in front of Alison as we filed out of the Year Nine Civics class on the last day of term before the winter holidays. In my hand was a handwritten note, folded up. I called for her attention and thrust the note into her hand with a half-ways smile. “Hey,” I said with a slight quiver, “read this when you get a chance.”Alison was my first real, big crush. Smart, sophisticated and – to my eyes – drop-dead gorgeous, she was the perfect blend of brains and beauty. Wavy brunette hair cut about her shoulders and a cherubic face with eyes that looked like they were perennially squinting, as though she should have been wearing glasses. Our school had no strict dress code but her favourite outfit of a navy jumper over a white shirt, green tartan skirt and opaque tights screamed ‘school uniform’. For someone who looked so bookish, she was at ease with the cool kids in our year level.Yet she seemed to be rather cold towards me. Our friendship groups never overlapped, and usually spent recesses at opposite ends of the school. In the one class we shared, she would sit as far as possible from me, and during group work, would always end up in a different grouping to me. And while I always paid attention whenever Alison was asked to read aloud or present to the class, I could swear that she was rolling her eyes or trying to distract herself whenever I spoke in class.We literally did not speak a single word to each other in the two terms of our subject. But I was still besotted with her – probably more so because she refused to acknowledge my existence. With only one chance before the two-week break I decided to let her know how I felt: out of fear of freezing in front of her, I decided to write a note rather than tell her aloud.She took hold of the note with a short and sweet, “thank you,” and tucked it between her books as we headed off to our last classes for the day. After school I looked out for Alison but did not see her; I figured I could always find out next term, by which time she would have definitely had the chance to read my note.That was until the first day of the following term when I spotted Alison on the way to school. She was waiting at a bus stop, wearing the uniform of a nearby private school. My heart immediately sank knowing that I was no longer going to see her at school, let alone find out what she thought about what I wrote to her. Over the days that followed my blue mood got deeper as I entertained the possibility that she may have asked to change schools as a result of my note. Had I suddenly jumped from being awkward around her to being downright creepy in one simple act? Had I turned into the sort of person that parents would warn their daughters about? The current day… Life had worked out okay for the most part. A decent entry rank after high school meant I got my choice of university course, an urban planning degree which I attained with honours. A well-paying job in the Victorian public service that allowed me to continue with post-graduate studies. An apartment close to the centre of Melbourne, where I could literally stagger home from anywhere worth going to at night. Reasonably active on the weekends, and with a good group of friends who look out for me – and I look out for them.But as for that special someone… well, not so much. I managed to recover after Alison upped and left and finally found love the following year. bursa escort The problem was nothing seemed to last: a couple of months here, a few months there. I managed to lose my virginity before I finished Year Twelve, but that girl decided to move interstate to study and we couldn’t make the relationship work long distance. University meant more opportunities to socialise, but now I had some one-night stands to add to the record.Things looked to have turned not long after I turned twenty-one when I met Shannon. The two of us were head over heels in love with each other, and we moved quickly to live as one. Too quickly, in hindsight. The apartment that I currently live in is a legacy of my time with Shannon: we jointly leased the place and set about establishing ourselves as the stereotypical dual-income-no-kids couple. Something happened after a year together, though.Her father, who lived in Adelaide, had gotten ill and she had travelled over to be with him. When he passed away, I came over for the funeral where Shannon announced that she wanted to end things with me. While I suspect there was more crying from her family over the loss of a loved one, my tears over losing Shannon felt like they would have run a close second. To her credit, she agreed to forfeit her half of the bond on the apartment so I could take over the lease outright, along with all the large items of furniture. To her deficit, I later found out that she gave birth to a child nine months after we split up – and I was not the father.So it was that, as Melbourne descended into another three months of drizzle commonly referred to as Winter, I was alone again. Comfortable, but not comfortably alone. It was a typical Friday night at the pub down the street from my place. Public servants, political staffers and students filled the bar, downing drinks and talking. A room full of ‘business casual’ attire and wool blend jackets. The first lot talking trash about the second, the second talking trash about the first, and the third lot talking trash about the other two while making designs to follow in both of their footsteps. Being Melbourne, there was at least one television showing the night’s football game and, true to form, the team from the suburb the pub was located in was doing poorly.I was gathered with a few friends from my department as part of the end-of-week ritual of bagging out the department heads and moaning about policy while slowly getting anaesthetised. Having had ideas of getting on my bicycle the following morning I was pacing my drinks to minimise a hangover. Eventually, though, it was my shout and I headed for the bar.I stepped up next to a young woman with wavy brunette hair cut above her shoulders, wearing a long coat over a fitted blouse and skirt, who must have been given the same task by her crew, with the added complication of a laundry list of mixed drinks. As her orders were served up and mine were about to be taken, I could see that she was anxious about spilling the tray. I advised the barman, “Four pots of Furphy and a Coke, and,” glancing at the woman as I pointed my debit card towards the bar, “I’ll be back once I’ve given a hand.”The barman took my card as I took the tray of drinks and looked to the woman, awaiting direction. “Thanks for that,” she said, “I reckon I could have made a mess of it.” It was then I noticed her face before she turned to lead the way through the bursa escort bayan crowd.“You look familiar. Didn’t you go to Eltham High?” I asked her.“Yeah, briefly,” she replied.We reached her spot where a mixed group were gathered. I recognised some of them: they had lived nearby me but had gone to private schools, their faces known from the assembly of kids at the local station where the caravan of charter buses to the prestigious schools over the river. I placed the tray of drinks down before quipping, “So, what is this? The Association of Independent Schools’ alumni night?” An ironic cheer went up from the group.I thrust out my hand to the woman. “Anton,” I introduced myself. “And you are?”“Alison,” she answered as she shook my hand.“Oh, shit. You moved to the college, didn’t you?”“Yep.”Just then, one of her friends got my attention. “Mate, barman wants you.”I went back to the bar to retrieve my card and ferry drinks back to my friends. As I stood there sipping on my Coke I kept looking over to Alison’s group. We had talked as I carried her drinks than we had in the time we were in high school together. She kept looking over to my group, sometimes flashing a smile. She then left her group before turning a corner towards where the toilets were located. I turned back to my friends and finished my drink. Just as I put down my empty glass, I felt a hand on my shoulder; I turned around and Alison was standing there.“Hi there. Who are these guys?”“Oh, this is the state Annoying NIMBYs with Vital Infrastructure Authority.” After the group stopped laughing, I completed introductions, referring to Alison as. “a girl I went to school with.” She then asked me if I wanted to sit alone with her and talk; after ordering drinks for the two of us I lead her to a side room of the pub where only a few people were sitting.Alison had studied law: she had an interest in consumer law and was working as a paralegal for an accident replacement hire care firm assisting on cases where insurance companies refused to pay. While she had seen wealth and privilege while she was at Eltham College and at university, her job had exposed her to people who were in a less fortunate position. “That’s why I wanted to sit with you. They were going on about plebs and povvo people and I got sick of it.”I finished my drink and got up. “It was good to see you. I’m heading home early, if you don’t mind,” I told her.“Where are you headed?” She asked.“I only live up the street. You want to join me?”“Yeah. Pub’s getting too loud for me now.”I said bye to my friends, with a few off-colour remarks about leaving with a girl in response. Alison made to leave the pub without passing her friends, prompting a shout of “Where are you going?” from one of the old school tie set.“Oi, we run the state, and don’t you forget it!” I shouted back as we quickly left the pub. Alison and I walked up the street in the drizzle towards my apartment. I finally got the courage to ask her about her hasty departure from my school. She answered that her parents wanted her to go to a private school all along, but it was a bit too expensive for her family; the moment her father got a job promotion and pay rise they enrolled her, and she moved the next term. She only told a few friends of hers during the last week of term, which was why I was none the wiser.We reached the foyer door to my place and asked Alison if she wanted to come up escort bursa for a drink; she took up my offer and we rode the lift up to the eighth floor, exchanging only a few words. We entered my apartment and quickly removed our coats, hanging them over the backs of the stools at the kitchen bench. I invited her to sit down on the couch as I pulled an opened bottle of wine out of the fridge and poured two glasses, handing one to Alison as I sat down next to her.As we looked out of the tiny apartment across the inner suburbs of Melbourne while sipping on our drinks, Alison pulled her purse out of her bag. She then unzipped a compartment and pulled out a folded-up piece of lined paper, which she then opened up fully. “Do you remember this, Anton?”“Oh my God.” I wave of panic washed over me. “Have you kept it all this time?”She began reading it out:Dear Alison,I am not sure how to say this, so I apologise if this sounds awkward: I want to be your friend. I realise that we do not talk at all to each other at any time, and you seem to act aloof when I make my presence known to you. I would like to think that this is not something you have chosen to do deliberately and on your own, but either because my presence is confronting or that you have been told by others that I am not to be engaged with. I may, or may not, have feelings for you, but that is not why I am reaching out to you. I just want you to know that I offer my friendship to you. When I see you next, I will offer my right hand in fellowship to you, and my hope is that you gladly take it and offer to be my friend – no more, no less.Yours in humanity,Anton.Alison’s voice was breaking by the end, and tears had welled in her eyes. I also felt teary, along with a sense of panic from being called out for my actions. I got in a response first: “Christ, I was fourteen when I wrote that. It was juvenile. I thought you had begged your parents to move schools over that.”Alison managed to compose herself. “I didn’t read it until much later when I was clearing out my schoolbag just before starting at the College. My first thought was that I would not have the chance to respond, mainly because you left no contact details. Later, though, I read it after a guy I was seeing said something awful about kids from Eltham High, and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I have ever read. I’ve been surrounded by emboldened people for ten years: emboldened by money, by status, by privilege. Your note reminds me that there are beautiful minds everywhere, even when we are told to ignore them, and I thank you for that, Anton.”The simple act of her saying my name set something off inside me. “No, thank you for saying so, Alison.” I broke down and wept. “The thing was when I wrote that I had real feelings for you. A beautiful mind in a beautiful body. I wanted to be with you not just because I was attracted to you but because your presence made me want to be smarter. Made me want to be better. But I didn’t want to be creepy or anything, I wanted to be your friend first. I didn’t want to make the first move in case I weirded you out, but you seemed to have no interest in me, so I wrote that. And I really thought I had weirded you out to the point of switching schools.” I was a blubbering mess.“No, it was nothing to do with you.” Alison put her arms around me and comforted me. Our faces drew up to each other’s and she looked into my eyes. “Did you actually have a crush on me?”“Yes,” I said. “My first, and it was a bad one.”“You know what? I might have at least given you a second look back then.” She leaned in and kissed me on the lips. “Whenever I read that note I wonder how good a person you would have been to be with.”

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