The Scale

The Scale. Chapter 1: That perfect person

I watched the snow fall. Yes, I was one of the privileged ones who could watch the snow fall from the window in my office. Others could only see the notes hanging on the walls of their cubicles, in front of and around them, reminding them how crowded the offices were in the bank where I worked.

It was the month of December, and tonight was Christmas. As usual, the bank's offices would close several hours earlier to give everyone who worked away from the customer service sections the opportunity to be with their families. I was among that lucky group of people, as I would leave before the workday officially ended. And I had plans. That afternoon I would meet my boyfriend, Joseph.

We met several years ago, exactly one year before I ended my career at the University of Berkeley. From the moment I saw him, his presence captivated me. He was perfect: he had straight black hair, tan white skin, and a beard that made him look more mature than he actually was. His confidence gestures, the tone of his voice, and his unique look made more than one girl sigh every time he passed through the corridors of the faculty wing. I really admired his physical presence, and I never thought that I'd catch his attention. Like the rest of the girls, I just admired him in secret until the day I had the opportunity to assist in a class he was in. There he was, in that classroom, standing out as the most handsome guy.

Eventually, I had the chance to meet him, since we had to do many group projects in our psychology class. Soon we established a friendship. Things between us progressed gradually until finally the time came when he just declared his love for me and asked me to be his girlfriend.

Our personalities meshed easily, and soon we were closer than ever. We spent so much time together because we studied the same subjects and worked on the same projects. Despite being very attractive, Joseph was very quiet. Sometimes I felt that I was talking too much, while he was simply listening. And sometimes, he leaned on my judgment to solve the homework and to propose topics for the project that we would present in class. At times he seemed to struggle academically, but he always contributed very well, and I liked the feeling that we were a team.

Sometimes he just disappeared on weekends, but when we started the school week, he always appeared with a compelling excuse. I never questioned him, as his sincerity seemed flawless. Finally, that final year, we presented a surprising study that gave us the pass to participate in the graduation ceremony. Although Joseph had contributed very little to the project, I really felt that his moral support had been enough to give him equal credit in the study that received very good grades, qualifying marks, and high comments among the professors of the university. That was seven years ago.

Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted by one of my colleagues.

"Claudia, whatever you're looking at out the window must be inspiring you."

"I can't stop thinking."

"Let's see, what are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about how special this night will be. My boyfriend and I are going to have dinner together. It's the first time we will do something like this for Christmas."

"Aha! I see that you can't stop thinking about him."

"Yes, I have him on a pedestal. I know we've had our ups and downs, but the good things that we have had make up for any bad times that we have passed through."

"Hmm, I won't tell you my opinion."

"What do you mean?"

"It's nothing...it's just that attractive men are usually heavily pursued. Be careful; don't get hurt."

"Hey!"

"I'm sorry, but everything has gone well so far, you don't need to worry. Stay calm, soon we'll leave the office, and you'll see him."

Apparently Vanessa was worried about the relationship that had my feet off the ground. She used to think that attractive men were extremely dangerous—that they were not trustworthy. But until then, I felt that I was in a relationship that had a strong foundation, because I had already known Joseph for several years. And if for some reason I had lost contact with him, he had always appeared, with some unquestionable reason. Furthermore, I didn't look at him only for his appealing physique; it was his essence as a person that made me feel attached to him.

A half hour before the end of my workday, I received his call. He told me that we would have to cancel our date for that day, as something urgent had come up at his mother's house. Despite feeling the disappointment that I wouldn't see him on that special day and that our plans for Christmas Eve were canceled, I had to understand, as his mother's health was first. So I kept calling him later to see how she was and how he was doing because, unfortunately, his mother lived so far away that it would be very difficult for me to go there to visit them. I didn't know all the details, but I wanted to be aware of her progress.

Because my plans with him were canceled, I thought about visiting my parents' house, and I asked Vanessa to join me. When I told her the reason for the cancellation of my plans for that night, she didn't say anything. She just looked at me, as if saying, "I told you so."

Though I think Vanessa is very overprotective of me, I didn't judge her. She had been in relationships that had caused her many disappointments: from men who had proved to be married to others who had only intended to spend a night with her. On the path of bad experiences, Vanessa had walked a long journey. I always thought that maybe there was something in her personality that brought her those disappointments. But of course, I would never say something like that directly to her. I just listened to her. And that day, she just told me that she would visit my parents' house for a while, and after saying, "I understand how you must feel," she said good-bye.

I didn't know it then, but that white winter day would be for me the beginning of a long journey. From that single instant, I would learn things about myself that I had never imagined. But that long journey of personal discovery would be marked by painful moments, which, in the end, would surprise me even more.