I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Four

Our relationship became more confused after that—it was difficult to keep in mind that only one of them was real to me (Lavinia) and the other was a stranger who happened to look exactly like Lavinia. The next day I was tempted to wave to her from my table; instead I grinned at my notes. A helium balloon had been inflated in my chest and threatened to lift me right off the ground. My hall mates probably thought I was delirious from studying, as I actually spoke to them in the mornings rather than rushing out straightaway after breakfast. I even decided to attend the chamber music concert being held the last evening of Michaelmas. It would be the first social function I had gone to since arriving in the country.

The final day of term I watched her go about her tea—I wouldn't see her again for a month. I'd be at a loose end without her punctuating my days, but I'd resume my post when second term, Hilary, began in January. I smelt my jasmine handkerchief whilst Professor Pristin read at her desk and bid her a quiet au revoir before going to my last tutorial of the term.

The evening of the concert, Lavinia and I chose to walk, as the Sheldonian wasn't far from my college and we found seats a few minutes before the performance was to begin. I was admiring the paintings on the ceiling and only glanced around at my fellow attendees as a Bach selection began with a jolt, or perhaps it was the sight of Professor Pristin sitting a few feet away that caused me to jump. She was one row up and diagonally a few seats over. Staring would have been rude so I fiercely studied my programme whilst stealing glances in her direction.

In my head I consulted Lavinia, who was sitting to my right, 'That's her, isn't it?'

She answered in a bored way, 'So it would seem.'

Professor Pristin was wearing black trousers and a burgundy jacket. A long black coat and hunter green scarf imprinted with an intricate Celtic-looking design hung over the back of her chair. Her right leg was crossed over her left, clasped hands resting on her knee. I could only see one third of the right side of her face, but studied that one-third as hard as I dared.

In my head I whispered to Lavinia, 'Do you think that man beside her is her date?'

'I don't know, what difference does it make? Would you listen to the music, please?'

But I was too consumed with curiosity about the guy to Professor Pristin's left. If a person could analyse someone's potential mate by scrutinizing the back of their head, I would have known everything about that guy because I glared at him like he had run over my dog and not stopped to apologise. He took the hand of the woman sitting on his left; and I sighed in relief.

'He's not with her.'

Lavinia said, 'Congratulations,' in a dry tone. Boy, was she being testy.

Since the guy was not her date and the chair to her right was vacant, that meant she was there on her own. Just like me. Hey, we had something in common!

At intermission she remained seated, as did I, but Lavinia had to keep reminding me not to look at the professor—I couldn't bring myself to call her Alexandra.

'You know, it's a bit rude to be here with me and sit gawping at her.'

'I'm sorry. She's just so...'

'I know, I know, you've told me a thousand times, "She's so lovely and pale and delicate." Do I need to remind you that I look exactly like her? Where do you think I came from?' There is such a thing as being too self-aware.

'You should be more grateful, without her there would be no you.'

'Well, don't gawk so, without the music as a distraction she's more likely to sense your gaze and turn around. You don't want to be sitting here like a stalker with your mouth hanging open. You need something to divert your attention.' She slapped my programme into my hand, 'Read this.'