Chapter 10: MOTH TO LIGHT

It was the first time he'd ever seen Chez. Chez kept his eyes down as he moved, and sat two rows from the front, staring straight ahead as if waiting for the professor to suddenly appear behind the podium.

Jeff turned around. "Ah, the freshman. Guess he's in our class too." Jeff rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Doesn't this class have pre-requisites?" Mac asked confused. Cindy peered around Mac towards the front row.

She smiled. "Chez LaFleur," she cooed. "I heard he's a wunderkind. A genius from like a poor family or something."

This wasn't quite true, but the rumor had already begun to circulate. Chez was the only freshman taking upper-level classes, so people were bound to notice him.

Chez was ordinary, Mac realized. His button-down shirt, well-worn and cheap, was ironed and tucked into bland pants. He was clean shaven and wore no product in his hair. It ruffled, falling in gentle waves over his forehead. His face, neither handsome nor homely, stared ahead with sharp clever eyes. 

Very ordinary, but for some reason Mac's eyes were drawn to him. The bell rang and students started to leave. A bit startled, Mac looked around and realized he had missed the whole orientation. Cindy stared at him, her elbow rested on the table and her hand tucked up against her chin.

Mac asked what she was doing. "Just watching you watching him," she said with a secret smile. He tsked and grabbed his bag.

Since that day, Mac saw Chez everywhere. Or rather, he was everywhere that Mac also happened to be. Mac tried to ignore him, thinking himself quite peculiar for letting a person he didn't know disturb him. One evening, he stopped by the student labs to meet Cindy. She was still speaking with the professor, so he slipped into a seat in the back and waited.

Upon sitting down, Mac noticed Chez on the other side of the room with his back hunched over slightly, soldering something to a circuit board. He had rolled up his sleeves to just under his elbows, revealing a red tattoo on his left arm. Mac noticed and it seemed out of place on the otherwise nerdy freshman.

A small group of students stopped by Chez's table to invite him to dinner. They were all third years, some Mac knew from other classes, and all seemed to be genuinely interested in knowing Chez LaFleur better. Chez on the other hand seemed less inclined.

He tilted his head as if confused by the invitation. When they explained it was Friday evening and they often went out to eat to celebrate the weekend, Chez said he couldn't make it and picked up his tools again. Upset by his almost rude dismissal, one of the girls scowled and told him he didn't need to act like a jerk.

"Apologies." Chez said with no hint of sincerity. "You invited me to a gathering I don't want to attend. Furthermore, I'm on a very tight budget and don't have the money to spend going out and eating at restaurants. Even if I wanted to join, I couldn't."

Her cheeks flushed, taken aback by his comment about money. She still insisted he didn't need to be so rude and turned to leave. The others conceded along the same lines, but still extended the invitation in case he changed his mind, knowing of course he wouldn't. They left and Chez turned unfazed to continue his work.

Cindy, who had finished her conversation, approached Mac with a grin. She nodded towards Chez and asked if Mac wanted an introduction. He scoffed, wondering how she wasn't bored of teasing him yet.

She shrugged, looking over her shoulder at Chez. "Probably for the best. He's a bit stand-offish."

Strobe lights flashed across the nightclub. The beat was loud, and the base vibrated like a driving force giving rise to a crush of gyrating bodies eager to lose themselves on the dance floor. The air was thick with a cacophony of smells: among which were the pungent scent of alcohol, the musk of cologne, and the floral notes of perfume. The club was so packed that Mac could taste in the air the salty sweat of bodies and the ashy smoke of cigarettes.

Around his neck hung a girl with sultry makeup and a sexy dress that hugged the curves of her body. She was a member of the student government too. Earlier, they had received word that the School Board had agreed to increase the Student Government's budget. Tonight was about celebrating.

Mac smiled, feeling the rush of her body pressed up against his. Her skin felt warm and damp under his hands. Her perfume smelled like Jasmine. All the sounds and smells were becoming overwhelming.

Leaning forward, Mac shouted to the girl that he was going to step outside for a moment. When she frowned, unable to hear him, he gestured towards the door. Realization lit her face, and she made a smoking gesture with her hand, nodded in understanding and turned away.

Mac didn't bother to correct her. The crowd seemed to get thicker towards the door as people pushed and shoved. As he stepped out into the street, cold air hit him and soothed his flushed cheeks. Maybe he'd had too much to drink.

A large bouncer with a thick man bun, held the line with militant precision while musical beats spilled out the doors. The street felt quiet by comparison. Mac took a large gulp of air wondering if he should go back in. From the corner of his eye, he saw a woman with pink hair about ten meters away, crouched on the edge of the sidewalk, hunched over her heels. He frowned, worried that Cindy might have had too much to drink.

As he approached, Mac overheard her talking and realized she was on the phone. Her voice rose an octave. "I'm on my own time." He froze, still a meter away "If Sebastian wants information on Mac, he can pick up his own damn phone!"

Startled by the sound of gravel crunching behind her, Cindy spun around. She saw Mac, his expression raw and unguarded.

"Mac."

He swallowed and plastered on a weak smile. "Well shit, you've spoken to my father?" The smiled faltered as he tried to make light of the situation.

Gravel crunched again as he took another step back. "Weird, thought his phone was broken." His throat felt tight, and his voice quivered.

Cindy stood up. Her brows pinched together, full of concern. "Mac, wait – "

He turned and rubbed his brow, waving her away. His vision swayed. "Sorry. I'm not feeling well. The club, you know...too much smoke." He turned on his heel and quickly walked away. Did his father have people watching him?

A sardonic grin spread across his face. Right, anything to avoid...

Mac sped down the sidewalk. He grabbed his chest; it felt so tight. He rubbed the soft cashmere of his sweater. Nothing he accomplished ever mattered. He felt like a sieve. He knew he was blessed and privileged to be Mac Whitter. But Mac Whitter felt like an imposter to him. No matter how hard he tried to be himself, he always felt pulled to be someone else, someone he knew would never be enough.

After a time, he stopped, a bit winded. Across the street, the brightly lit convenience store cast a glow, appearing like a lamp wrapped in inky night. Moths, drawn to the lights, repeatedly smashed up against the windows.

Mac's eyes widened. Alone inside, Chez restocked the shelves – his movements smooth and graceful. His uniform was a blue and white striped vest and cap. The scene was simple and peaceful to watch. Mac didn't know why but his eyes filled with tears. Entranced by the beauty of such simple movements, Mac was alarmed when they stopped.

His heart skipped when Chez turned and spied him through the window across the street standing in the dark; brown eyes burrowed into him, and it was as if someone finally saw him. His face – red, drunk, tearstained, his clothes and hair all messed up...the Mac Whitter everyone knew wasn't there. It was just Mac. He held his breath, afraid to break the spell. His pulse quickened.

Chez's expression never changed. As suddenly as the movements paused, they began again as if never disturbed. The spell was shattered and now the exposure felt too much. Mac turned and sprinted several blocks away, faster and faster, leaving the convenience store behind.

Unable to run anymore, he stopped. Passing vehicles and the sound of night drifted on the air. He threw his head back, covering his face. Something felt different.

He waited for that dreadful sense of emptiness to wash over him and laughed when it didn't come. The tension drained from his shoulders. He stared at the stars.

"Why have I become so strange?"