I have to admit, I was somewhat relieved to see her go. Nonetheless… you know, nonetheless.
As said, prior to seeing her escorted into that Rolls Royce I had no idea that Celia “came from money.” Had I
known it would not have changed anything, because I can tell you this: it gets pretty goddamned tiresome
hearing someone you hardly know tell you how deeply they love you and how they can NOT live without you
no matter how much money they have. And it turns creepy, and becomes even a little frightening when you
bump into that person almost everywhere you go…by accident…or wait, can it be FATE? It could only be
Fate, for I never touched her, never kissed her, never addressed her by her name that I can recall. Knowing
me back then, I never even looked her directly in the eye. So, quite naturally then, she found herself
irresistibly attracted to me.
Maybe she thought I was unaware of all that she was going through; or indifferent. How could anyone be so
blind, so cruel?
Celia–finding herself incapable of living without me--decided that I would not be allowed to live without her.
She started showing up wherever I went. I’d be in a bar—Oh, look, there’s Celia. I’d be in the library—What a
surprise to bump into you, Celia. At breakfast—Isn’t that that Celia-chick, staring at us? She showed up at my
dorm and waited downstairs until I came down to declare, once again, her undying love. She pounced upon
me in the hall as soon as I emerged from my classes. She gave me that sick-cow look so often in history class
that I stopped going. One day, on the street, when she saw me speaking with another girl, she stepped in
between us, begging me and pleading with me to come back to her. In stark contrast to the simple fact that I
had never been with her, the fact that I had never left seemed moot. Clearly, Celia was insane. There was,
please hear me, little comfort in that.
Here’s how far it went: another time I spied Celia from a distance talking animatedly to an acquaintance of
mine, a girl by chance, in front of the college bookstore. There was maybe just a little too much wild
gesticulation going on for it to be a friendly conversation. And from that moment on that poor girl avoided me
like the plague. When I eventually managed to corner her, and asked why, she looked around nervously and
mouthed one word, “Celia…”
I don’t know when, precisely, Celia decided that she could not live without me, but by anyone’s standards it
was really, truly, much much much too soon. I think it had something to do with her father though. Her father
had had some kind of “event” and she’d taken off to see him in the hospital; when she returned she knew I
was the one for her. (This very same series of events would set me up for my second stalker 20 years down
the road.) But, if I were asked to guess why Celia was so solidly hooked on me I would have to say maybe it
was because I had been willing to do something for her that I had never done for anyone else before--
something I had rarely done even for myself--take notes.
Celia had missed a class when her father had his ‘event’ and I took notes for her. But, her view—if indeed
that was her view--that this was an act of undying love was misinformed. If my notes were an indication of
anything, they were an indication of how utterly useless my notes were. I didn’t even understand my own
notes (though I may have understood them during the instant I took them); I couldn’t imagine how they could
be of any help whatsoever to anyone.
Here, make sense of this if you can (and then, please, try not to fall in love with me):
Henry Bilthrop/1674 (11? 17?) long years to find source (look up dep. date)/at what latitude?/previously failed
attempts/wife connection Scientific Comm./disc. Hoax?/was it a thumb/was it a tailbone?/joke’s on us (them S.
C.)…[he says this is important] later known for mixture specimen Re preserved PRE-in/Bilthrop’s mixture or B’
s fix? (which) Was B Biltrop or billings(look up pg 334not 343)What did then? See charge anthem?
____hem? a dye/universally used. th’other useless used less (find out which) /rights stolen by partner’s
partner’s SON (partner’s partner? That’s the real question. Would mak a good play. I have nothing but time)
surviving son/1902 award (IMPORTANT: relates back to that childhood being thrown from the pony thing!!)
Just like MY brother up a tree.
I must have had about 2 or 3 pages of these 'notes' with me on that lovely liberating rainy day. That’s what I
was heading over to Celia’s for—to compare notes. My guess is, hers were somewhat more comprehensive.
Celia, wherever you are—I will never forget you either. We were kids. These things happen. I’m sure your
house has been re-built by now. Tell your husband thanks. I’m sure he’s smug, good looking, and perfectly
comfortable, at your side, in a nicely-fitted suit, riding to hounds, or simply strolling about basking in the ever-
warm embrace of society.