I awoke to the sunlight sneaking in through the broken blind on my window. The school had sworn they would replace it, but it had been two weeks and I was still waking up and squinting my eyes as the unwanted sunlight told me that it was a new day.
“Turn that d*** thing off.” My roommate muttered from is bed that lay opposite mine.
I reached out my hand and slapped the alarm clock, which had been admitting the usual annoying beep that it does every morning. Having missed the off button, the radio came on blaring what sounded like heavy metal. I searched frantically for the button to turn it off, but instead ending up just pulling its plug. It was too d*** early to be getting up, and way too d*** early to wake up to heavy metal.
Since it was already 6 I decided that I had not left myself time for a shower. Begrudgingly, I got out of bed and walked over to my dresser. I pulled out a purple shirt, his favorite color, and my skinniest skinny jeans. My blonde hair was basically standing straight up, but no one was up at this time anyway, so I assumed it did not matter. I got dressed and headed out the door before realizing that it was December and only 10 degrees outside.
Returning to my room, I grabbed a two toned blue sweatshirt and a purple scarf that were lying scattered out upon my dresser. As I left the room, I closed the door a little too hard and could hear the noise echo throughout the hallway of the boy’s dorm. I wanted it to be a surprise and so I hoped I had not woken him. He lived right across the hall after all. It was his birthday and so I thought I would do something special for him.
I walked quickly down the blue carpeted stairs and braced myself for the chill as I opened the door out into the frosty morning. There was a small coating of fresh snow on the ground, and very small flakes flew onto my clothes, melting almost as soon as they made contact. It was not a very long walk, as the campus of the boarding school that we attend is not very large, but with every step I wanted to turn back more and more. If it were anyone else then I would have turned back, but I really wanted to do something to make his day better.
Finally, I made it to the front door of the main building. I stomped my snow boots out on the rug in front of the door, but that did not stop them from leaving soggy footprints in my wake. I descended the staircase that led to the kitchen. The first thing I did was go to the back room and put on my favorite navy apron. It was by far the longest of the aprons and I tied it very tight, almost to the point that I had trouble breathing, as I liked the way that it made my stomach look.
I was planning on making him banana pancakes as that was the title of one of his favorite songs. In fact, I called it “our song” but never in front of him. In fact if he ever found out about it I doubt he would like it. It was playing when I first realized that I loved him.
I was sitting on a couch with him in a room full of other people. We sat in a corner laughing. He said that he wanted to show me some of his music, as he had deemed my taste in music as dreadful. I listened to the lyrics and imagined they were about us. The premise of the song was about pretending that there was no one else out there. That having just the two of them together was enough, and in that moment, it was like it was just him and me, and I could deal with that.
“I can play this song on the guitar you know.” He said to me as we sat there, him looking eagerly at me to see if I liked his music or not.
“Oh, cool. You are going to have to play it for me sometime.” I replied looking back into his bright blue eyes and smiling. I was really smiling, not the fake polite smile that I give to people because that is what they want to see, but the goofy, happy-go-lucky smile of someone truly enjoying an experience.

I walked into the walk-in refrigerator and grabbed a stick of butter off the top shelf. I then proceeded to the stove, where I placed a blackened frying pan down. The old oven was finicky and so did not light immediately as I twisted the knob. I lifted the frying pan to see what the problem was and as I placed it back down the flame ignited. My hand drew back automatically as I felt my skin graze the blue-orange flame. The frying pan hit the ground with a loud clang and I ran over to the sink to put my hang under cold water.
I returned to the stove and replaced the frying pan. Then I cut a small, uneven, piece of butter off of the stick and placed it in the frying pan to grease it. I then went to the cupboard where the school keeps its flour, sugar, and other dry ingredients, measuring out the correct amount of each. I added them one by one to the old scratched mixing bowl that I set up next to the stove. When I added the flour, I was immersed in a white powder cloud that left my apron looking more white then blue. I then returned to the refrigerator to get the cooler ingredients.
About a month after that day on the couch, I heard him playing guitar from my room down the hall. At this point we had been getting to know each other even more and I was beginning to fall harder and harder for him, but he was clueless as ever. He was a very smart guy, but when it came to human contact, he had the IQ of a six year old.
I knocked on his door and opened it to find him sitting on his bed wearing a tie-dye tee shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. He stopped playing when he saw me standing there in his doorway grinning at him.
“Hey, I was hoping you might play me banana pancakes.” I said.
“Yeah, cool, you remembered the name and everything.” He said.
He picked up his guitar and started playing the tune that I had been listening to almost every day since he had shown it to me. I was standing in the door way humming along when all of a sudden he stopped.
“You can sit down if you want.” He said and then quickly returned to his playing.
I walked over and casually sat next to him, the bed sinking a little lower as I took my seat. He finished playing and set the guitar down.
“Do you ever sing while you play?” I asked.
“No, I don’t sing.” He said, in a tone that indicated that this was something that was set in stone.
“Well I bet you have a great voice. Come on, let’s try it once.” I said.
“No.” Was all he said in reply.
“Come on, I’ll sing too.” I said encouragingly.
“No, trust me, no one have ever gotten me to sing before.” He said.
“Well then obviously you don’t know how good I am at weighing people down.” I said smiling back at him and handed him the guitar.
He started playing and I started singing. I have taken several chorus classes and have been told that I have a good voice, so I was hoping that he would notice that I was a good singer and want to play with me more often. We had gotten to the chorus and he still hadn’t sung a single word. I squinted my eyes at him, but it got me nowhere.
We finally got to the end of the song and he said “You have such a nice voice; I didn’t want to ruin it with mine.”
“I smiled back at him, that’s a cough out and you know it.” I said pushing him playfully.
I awoke from my reminiscing and found myself standing in front of the fridge. I pulled out all the ingredients I needed from there and poured them in with the dry ingredients. The mixture was quite lumpy and did not look very appealing to me. I stuck a finger in it and tasted the batter, it tasted far better then it looked. I finally cut up a banana and added it to the mixture.
Very carefully, I poured a small amount of the batter into the frying pan and watched as it sizzled and bubbled up around the slices of banana. I waited about thirty seconds and then I flipped the pancake over onto its other side. When I removed it from the pan, it was a perfect shade of golden brown. I repeated this three more times and then placed them on a plate.
I then went to retrieve some syrup from the fridge. I thought about using the regular syrup, but then I remembered that he has his own specialty organic syrup that he keeps hidden in the very back of the fridge, behind the fan. I reached back for it and pulled it out. It was a small container shaped like a maple leaf that he had written “DO NOT TOUCH” on in big sloppy handwriting.
Sooner or later he is going to learn that I don’t listen to some of the things he says to me, or in this case, writes to me. I poured a conservative helping onto the pancakes and watched as it ran down the flaky cakes and onto the plate. I put my dishes in the sink, and swore that I would come back and do them after delivering the pancakes. I poured him a glass of milk and quickly carried the plate and glass up the stairs and into the chilly morning air.
The snow had stopped and I checked my watch to make sure that I wasn’t ahead of schedule; if I woke him up too early then I knew I would hear about it. It was 7:15 and the rest of the campus had breakfast at 7:30, so I felt ok in making my delivery. I walked up the stairs of the dorm carefully, trying to avoid spilling the milk. I stood in front of his door for a full minute, too nervous to knock. Finally I felt my knuckles meet the wooden door and turned the knob slowly. I turned to see him squinting at me through one eye. His brow hair was sticking out in all directions and his blue and white bed covers were pulled tightly over his legs.
“Happy Birthday.” I said, snickering at his appearance as I did so.
“What time is it?” Was his reply.
“It’s 7:20.” I said stepping towards him.
“What are you doing here?” He asked.
“I brought you breakfast in bed.” I said smiling at how annoyed he seemed to be getting pancakes.
“Why?” He said.
At this point I was starting to get a little mad. When someone says that they made your breakfast, the correct response is never “why.”
“Because I wanted to do something for you on your birthday, but if you don’t want it, I guess I could just take it…” I said, faking to turn away, knowing he would call me back.
“No,no. Of course I want it. I’m sorry, I’m usually an a** hole when I first wake up.” He said sitting up a little more in bed so I could see his shirtless torso.
I stepped closer to him and set the plate down on the dresser next to him.
“What is it?” He asked me.
“It’s banana pancakes.” I said, wondering if he would get the sentimental value.
“Haha like the song?” He asked
“Yep.”
I said.
I turned to leave the room, assuming he would want to eat in peace.
“Where are you going?” He asked
“I was going to go change and go to breakfast.” I replied
“No, you are going to stay and eat these with me.” He said.
I was both surprised and pleased that he wanted me to stay. I walked back and sat at the desk chair next to his bed.
“Will you get my iPod out of my pants pocket over there?” He said, pointing to an inside out pair of khakis that he had obviously just taken off and left in the middle of the floor. I reached into the pocket and pulled out his purple iPod. I then handed it to him before sitting back down again. He messed around with it for a second before playing banana pancakes off of it.
He took the plate off the dresser and drove his fork into the pile of pancakes. After chewing it for a couple seconds he said, with his mouth still full “What kind of syrup is this?”
“You tell me.” I said, smiling sassily at him.
“The kind that has DO NOT TOUCH written on it?” He asked.
“Maybe, but in my defense, I don’t generally do what you say, so I didn’t see a reason start now.” I said, batting my eyelashes at him.
“Well it tastes great.” He said, as he kept piling more pieces into his mouth, syrup was flying everywhere, on his bed, on his chest; somehow he even managed to get some in his hair. When he was finally finished with the pancakes and milk he set the plate down.
“Well I better go get ready for class.” I said getting up and taking his dishes.
“Yeah, I better take a shower, now that you have me all sticky. You should probably take one too, because you have a little flour on your, well, everywhere.” He said laughing his broken, high pitched, laugh that I loved so much.
I laughed along with him and as I turned the door knob I heard him say. “Hey, thanks, by the way. This was really nice. We haven’t hung out in a while.” He said.
“No problem. Happy Birthday.” I said as I closed his door.
I knew that we were never meant to be together, but that does not mean that I could not care about him, and if he didn’t know that I was in love, then no harm no foul. As I started to walk back to the kitchen I noticed that he had left some of his syrup on the plate. I licked it up and it made me realize, sometimes when something is forbidden, it makes it all the more sweeter.