19 Days: Obsessed with Desks

My first class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays is English 251. I wander in blearily (my temporary adrenalin rush from work having abated) and find my same seat as always: on the right side, by the wall. Four chairs back.

It is the row closest to the door, and I sit far enough away not to be looking up the professor's nose. There are six chairs in that row, and I very carefully positioned myself near the middle. I'm far enough back to be out of his direct line of sight, but I'm not sitting in the very back, which means I don't look like a rebel who needs to be called on more often. There are two seats behind me and three in front of me. I have been sitting there for weeks and weeks. Until recently.

Two weeks ago, I came into the room and froze upon my entry. There were only five chairs in the row. I was the first person in the room, as usual, so it was up to me to determine how my row would sit today (they have all established places relative to mine). I sat four chairs back, but that left me only one chair from the very back of the room. I was agitated and paranoid. Fortunately, there are only five of us who sit in that row, so no one was booted from their spot. In fact, no one seemed to notice the change but me. "There's a chair missing in this row," I said to the students filing in. No one listened.

Every day I came in looking for that chair. It wasn't there. We were left with five chairs on that side. And every time I grudgingly took my position (noticing with despair how much harder it was to see and hear clearly from farther back) I pointed out to the girl sitting next to me, the one with sharp black hair, "We're missing a chair on this row." She raised her eyebrows, annoyed, and went back to reading her essay.

Then one day I came in and there were only four chairs in the row. My chest constricted and I stood gaping for a moment. Another chair stolen! Evil was afoot here. I walked cautiously toward the back of the room, torn about where to sit. I decided to continue to avoid sitting in the far back, so I sat in the third seat from the front. I sat with my knees pulled up, disconcerted. When the rest of the class came in, the boy who usually sat in our row had to move to another aisle entirely. And yet no one seemed to care. I couldn't believe how no one else was bothered. "We're losing chairs on this side," I said, pleading; my voice tugged on the sharp-haired girl and she grudgingly looked over at me. I pointed in distress. "There used to be six chairs in this row. Then there were only five. And today there's four." She didn't seem to get it. My eyes grew wide and my voice was tense with dread. "We're losing chairs!"

Eventually, she started pretending not to hear me when I mumbled and ranted. Meanwhile I was left to squirm, lying beneath my slowly descending pendulum as chairs simply vanished into thin air. Why was no one asking questions? Was it so easy to disappear and have the world forget you? Our system was crumbling, and I was trapped in a cave - a cave that was shrinking.

Today when I went in to class, there were six chairs in the row. They leaned nonchalantly against the wall as if they'd never been gone. When I saw them, a relieved smile broke across my face. I touched the front desk fondly. As the girl with the black hair tried to sneak past me, I turned to her and said joyfully, "The chairs are back! We have six chairs again!" She sort of smiled at me, terrified, but I turned away from her. I walked purposefully to the fourth chair in the row - third from the back - and plunked myself down. Peace seemed to soak through the smooth surface of the desk, and I sighed gratefully.

I felt at home at last.