Bored in music theory class, I wrote “jC saves,” all over my notebook. Sometimes with a heart, sometimes with a smiley face, but always with the hope that someday he’d notice me. His name was Jacob Cleff and his occupation was the sweet torture of drooling and adoring freshmen girls. (He also moonlighted as Prince Charming at nearby Disneyland in Anaheim, so this was quite literally his occupation.) Late one night during choir rehearsal, I looked up from my music and saw him for the very first time. The heavens parted, cherubs chanted, and I caught myself with my mouth wide open. Jacob was a beautiful mestizo; half white, half Puerto Rican, tall like a skyscraper, with a godlike physique. He held his music in his right hand and tapped his knee lightly to keep rhythm with the rest of the baritones. What’s this? A man who loved music? Like, real music? From that point on, I was hypnotized.
He would ride through campus on a lowrider bicycle. If I ever saw that black and silver bike outside the cafeteria, I was suddenly hungry. If I saw it outside the music department, I suddenly remembered that I left my notes in the common area. Whenever I saw him, we would lock eyes and would I timidly smile and walk on- but inside I was screaming holy hell. He never said a word to me, but his dark brown eyes unstitched me. As the year passed, what I thought was my personal secret crush, had suddenly become public knowledge. Jacob had been asking about me. And one day, I had my first real encounter with him.
It was late one night and I was walking across campus from the Filipino club meeting. Down the mall I saw Jacob chatting with some friends. I straightened up and walked nonchalantly by. He watched me walk past and rode his bike to catch up with me. I stopped in my tracks and he began circling his bike around me, like a shark surrounding its prey. I was nervous. Then it was just like out of a musical. Jacob started singing in his deep, resonating baritone voice:
The strands in your eyes color them wonderful, stop me and steal my breath.
Emeralds from mountains, thrust towards the sky, never revealing their depth.
He stopped his bike right in front of me, blocking my path. He had a devilish look in his eyes and leaning forward he nodded his head as if to say it was my turn to sing. Was he really singing Edwin McCain’s “I’ll Be” right here in the middle of the quad? I looked around and shifted my weight, but he kept his eyes fixed on me. I continued on, singing softly:
Tell me, that we belong together. Dress it up with the trappings of love.
I’ll be captivated, I’ll hang from your lips, instead of the gallows of heartache that hang from above.
I paused, waiting for him. Then he bellowed at the top of his lungs:
And I’ll be your crying shoulder. I’ll be love’s suicide. I’ll be, better when I’m older. I’ll be the greatest fan of your life.
What the hell just happened? He just kept staring at me. After the echo of his voice faded he finally spoke.
“I can’t believe you know that song”
“Why, you don’t?” I asked.
“No, I just learned it tonight. American Idol audition.”
This is why I was in love. I was in love with Prince Charming who was going to be the next American Idol.
“Oh yea, how did that go?” I asked.
“Ok, I think. There were a lot of people packed into that stadium."
He continued staring and I continued being shy.
“Are you going to Charity Ball?” he asked.
“Yea, I think so.”
“Ok. I’ll find you there.”
And just like that, he pedaled off into the night. I stood there, digesting what just transpired. It suddenly occurred to me that Jacob knew what he was doing. This was a professional at work. He was used to having girls fawning over him. Well I wasn’t just any girl. I would show him.
Valentines Day was only a week away and I already had an idea. What would trouble Prince Charming more than not knowing who was admiring him from afar? The torturer would soon become the torturee. That week, Jacob was acting in a play on campus. I scribbled something on a piece of paper and walked over to the theatre just as the curtain went up. One of the ushers greeted me at the door and I asked her to give the note to Jacob. I walked briskly away from the theatre, knowing full well that I was about to have the upper hand in this year long game of cat and mouse.
The next day, the music department was abuzz. Apparently, Jacob had been hocking around a piece of paper like a madman. He was asking everyone if they recognized the handwriting, or if anyone had been to see his play the night before. Needless to say, I laid low for the next couple days and let this quietly simmer in his head.
The night of Charity Ball I donned my lucky dress, hoping for what i don't know. I was just hoping not to make a fool of myself. I walked down to Sunken Garden and entered the enormous tent. I scanned the area and was easily able to find him in the crowd. He looked yummy in his dark suit. His tie already loosened from the dancing he had been doing. I conveniently walked by him pretending of course not to see him. He grabbed my hand and stole me away for a dance.
“You wrote that, didn’t you?”
“What?” I attempted the the best quizzical look in my eyes, while trying to stifle the giddy schoolgirl in me. Jacob Cleff was dancing with me.
“That poem, that was you, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I should have an Academy Award for this.
Just then he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and read it aloud n the middle of the dancefloor. Others around us were curious and listening, but Jacob was not one to care what people thought. Twice now, I’d be subjected to this man’s honey voice:
Eyes ablaze under the adagio I sing and I write
A resounding top note for my love’s arresting height
A trill for the shivers his gaze commands
A smooth legato line from beginning to end - for the promise in his eyes and the kisses he sends
A slight staccato for the laughter we share
A cadence for his passion that leaves me without breath
A minute change to minor for the sorrow in our time apart
It is a melody, a lullaby, for the way he cradles my heart.
All the while, I tried to keep from smiling. As he read, I did my best to not burst out laughing. This man was tripping over something I wrote. He was tripping over the idea of someone besting him - and I got an absolute thrill out of it.
“Everyone knows you’re an English major. This has to be you.”
“I’m sorry, that’s not me.”
He stared again, as if he would break me and unlock the pleasures of the world. I held my ground. He finally let it go, but he and I both knew what the truth was: I was just a chickenshit.
Afterward, I regretted not telling him. Had I missed my chance with true love? I was just too scared to be rejected.
Months later, the choir took a tour of the Pacific Northwest. All tour long he tortured me with side glances and winks. I hated and loved him for it. On the last night of the tour we were invited to spend an evening at the Cleff household. Great. An evening at my crush’s home. This was just salt in the wound. Later that night, someone put on some music and we all started dancing. This was our last night on tour and I felt like this was my time to shine! I would steal Jacob’s heart with my stellar dance skills and confess that I’d written that poem and we’d hit it off! I took center stage of the floor and shook my hips along with the salsa music. Everyone was cheering me on, including Jacob, as i felt his eyes on me. I dipped low and rolled my body back up to do a booty roll, but then I heard a loud tearing sound.
I stood upright very quickly and walked backwards toward the wall. Everyone looked at me puzzled, wondering why I’d stopped. I backed away slowly and found the bathroom and to my horror, my jeans had split in two, right down the middle.
Do you know what the moral of this story is? If a guy is even remotely interested in you, let him know – otherwise you just end up with your ass on the line.
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