Galatea

By Jamie Galioto

He needed something new after the most recent fiasco with Claire. He was looking for a blank slate, one who would need naught but encouragement and devotion to become truly perfect. It was the beginning of the semester when he saw her at the back of the classroom, sitting outcast from the others, hunched over a book and hiding beneath her oversized hoodie. She never spoke, only said her name meekly during introductions the first week. She was always the first one in the classroom, taking the same seat, and always the quickest to leave, never lingering to chat like some did. She liked to be alone—no—she didn’t know how to be with people. She, she would be the one. She was exactly his type: small, quiet, not too pretty, but cute like a newborn deer, shaky and afraid of the slightest sound, always jumping when the professor called her name. She would cling to him if he gave her the chance.

He approached her cautiously, carefully moving one seat closer to her each day until finally he was next to her. She noticed him of course, flicking her eyes at him nervously as he came nearer. He could tell she was intimidated, he was much taller and bigger than she was, after all, and known for being rather talkative during class. But she smiled politely when he introduced himself, handed her his number scrawled on a scrap of paper, and invited her to text him if she needed help with homework or just wanted a companion to study with.

She didn’t text him. He knew she wouldn’t. It would take some time before she felt comfortable with him. He started to come to class early to chat with her alone; to give her a chance to open up and be herself with only an audience of one. He could tell she knew his intentions, purposely answering questions about herself vaguely and never asking any about him. She let him talk to her, only nodding along as he spoke, and shrugging or shaking her head when he asked something personal. He made sure to compliment her from time to time, reminding her that he was interested even if he never explicitly said so. She wasn’t bold enough to reject him outright, and while wary of his intention she was interested in what he saw in her.

It took time, but eventually she warmed up to him, accepting that he wanted to talk with her and wouldn’t relent until she responded. Even the quietest of people like to talk, you just have to crack their shells first. Finally, he asked her if she’d like to go with him to a little hole in the wall restaurant not too far from campus for lunch. Their class ended just before noon. She admitted to being tired of the dining hall’s food, but declined as she didn’t like to spend much. He expected this, and offered to treat her. She gave in. A couple days later she texted him a simple question about the assignment due Friday. She was closed off even while texting, giving the same vague answers about herself, but now she was asking more about him. Every now and then, he’d get bits and pieces of her life, such as how she never dated before, just like Claire before she met him.

He was careful with her, going at her own pace, being quick to withdraw when he moved too fast and freaked her out. It was the same game he played with Claire. When he asked if she wanted to go to his place after classes, she balked at the idea, quickly changing the subject to what would be on the test the following day. That was fine; he needed her to trust him, so he’d wait as long as she needed.

When he felt that she was starting to see him as a friend, he began to push her, encouraging her to try new things, convincing her to take up an extracurricular on campus and to go for that cafe job she’d been wanting to apply for, taking her to parties even when she insisted on being a wallflower or following him around like a stray dog, preferring to let him do all the talking while she pretended to look interested. He didn’t mind how slow her progress was, so long as she stuck near him.

When her trust in him had grown, and her confidence had built up enough to allow her to speak in class, he began to coach her, starting with buying her new things. She needed to look the part to play the part. She was confused of course by his sudden desire to buy her clothes, even when he insisted that a new look would help her confidence even more, asking how he even had the money to keep treating her much less buy her a pretty dress. He insisted she need not worry, and eventually she gave up trying to reject his gifts.

When she started wearing the clothes he gave her, he started telling her how to act. He told her who was cool to talk to, what exactly what she should say to people at parties to make herself seem interesting (truthfully, she was rather boring, but that would soon change), exactly what to say in class to seem smart, how to sit or stand so she looked confident and approachable, how to dance to music without making a fool of herself, even how to refuse a drink without seeming like a buzz-kill. She still aptly refused to drink alcohol of any kind. She followed his instructions and learned surprisingly fast. By the end of the semester she was an entirely different person.

“It’s been some time since we met,” he mused, twirling spaghetti around his fork. He’d taken her out to dinner at an Olive Garden thirty minutes from campus. “I think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well.”

She shrugged, focusing on the gnocchi in her soup. She hadn’t looked in his eyes all evening. She must be nervous, sensing that he was about to ask an important question.

“I was thinking, would you like to start dating?”

She finally put her spoon down, straightening her posture, and looked him directly in the eye. “I think I want us to keep being friends.”

He gripped the fork in his hand, feeling it bend under the pressure.

She only wanted to be friends? He spent all his energy and time, even money to help her be someone new--no longer hiding at the back of the class but sitting at the center like the world revolved around her-- and she has the gall to say no?

“Can I ask why?” She’d been acting differently around him, but in a good way. She was texting him first, inviting him out to meals or to parties for change, so why? Why was she stubbornly refusing him still?

“I just don’t think we make a good match,” She was about to say more, but suddenly glanced at her phone. She must have gotten a text. “I’ll be right back.” She got up and went to the restroom.

He stared at his meal until the spaghetti sauce began to look like blood. They left the restaurant shortly after, she said her stomach hurt, and he didn’t peg her about the rejection during the silent ride home.

Things continued normally, until eventually he noticed that she was texting him less and less, purposely sitting far from him in class—not by herself but surrounded with her new friends he helped her make—and accepting his invitations to eat less and less. She didn’t even follow him around at parties anymore, instead, flitting between groups of people like a butterfly making them laugh or impressing them with her witty remarks.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He stopped her outside the classroom and pulled her aside to the empty one across the hall. She hadn’t shown up early that day.

“Class is starting,” She tried to move past him but he blocked the door.

“I said why are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?”

She glanced at her phone, paying more attention to the message on the screen than him.

His body shook. “Stop texting and look at me. Who are you texting anyway?”

What happened next came as a surprise, she scoffed. “It’s none of your business. Anyway, I need time to myself, so just chill, ok?” She ducked under his arm and scurried across the hall. He didn’t follow her. He went back to his dorm wishing he’d slapped her for talking that way to him. It turns out he didn’t know her as well as he thought, she was a conceited bitch.

It was happening again. Another girl was refusing to become his Galatea. If he let her go she’d only humiliate him, just like Claire when she dumped him at a party, calling him a psycho in front of everybody. He made Claire pay for that, and he would make sure she would pay too.

His plan was simple; he’d follow her to the dorm building and break into her room at night. It’d be easy enough to get in; he could just follow another resident through the doors or call the front desk claiming he lost his keycard. They wouldn’t doubt he was a student. She didn’t have any roommates either, since she occupied a single room. He’d make it look like a suicide. If all else failed, he could start a fire in the building—he’d done it once before.

She didn’t notice him the night he followed her. No one questioned him when he sauntered into the building like he belonged there. He rode the elevator up to her floor all alone. Not a soul wandered the hallways, everyone was either asleep or tucked away pulling all-nighters for midterms. She was awake. Opting against breaking in, he knocked on the door. He knew she’d answer it, anyone would be curious as to who would be knocking on their door in the middle of the night. It saved him the trouble of covering up a forced entry too.

The door opened a crack and he barged in immediately, freezing when he saw her standing in the middle of the room.

“Claire…?”

Claire smiled. “I knew you’d do it again.” Her eyes moved to the girl standing behind him, the one who had opened the door. “Get him.”

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Jamie Galioto is an English Major currently expected to graduate from the University of Cincinnati in April. She is looking forward to sharing her work with those willing to read it. Her first accepted publication will be featured in the online literary magazine, Outrageous Fortune, for the Spring 2022 issue.

Featured art: Untitled by Lexi Lape