Sonnets for Prudence

I was fifteen when I fell in love for the first time. Her name was Elizabeth. She was a poet and dead long before I got the chance to meet her, but her words were forever burned into the back of my skull. They were a part of me, and I continued to be stuck on every word, the meter, the pace. Reading her poems become the reason why I decided to be an English major. I loved dissecting her art. She was a masterclass all of her own, and a love song to the last and greatest of all romantic poems. I could hear her speaking to me with every word. Prudence, I love thee. And it felt good to be wanted. I had her, and that was enough.

And then there was college. I found my comfort in Mrs. Barrett Browning’s poems to keep me sane in the tumultuous chaos that was campus life. During the day, I attend sorority chapter, go to class, study. At night, my collection of Elizabeth’s poems and I forget about the world around us, well, as much as we can. My mom, an ex-sorority girl, thought Greek life would help me come out of my shell and be a guaranteed way of making friends since I was so far from home. In some cases, she was right; I had a few friends and enjoyed being a part of something. On the other hand, you had to be a social butterfly. That’s not me.

They tell you that sorority life is not all parties. That is only partially true. Your friends will drag you out any chance they can, and before you know it, you are four shots deep at some frat rager without the knowledge or sobriety to get home. That’s where I lost my first poetry collection. It was an annotated copy of Elizabeth’s poems that I had initially bought my sophomore year of high school. I kept it with me always. I guess you can consider that book to be my baby, and then I lost it. I still have hope that one of the frat brothers will read the inside cover, see my name and number, and return my book. It’s been two weeks and still nothing. I just bought a new one. She’s not annotated, but the pages are still crisp. You win some, you lose some.

I just got back to my dorm and laid flat on my bed. My roommate, Nadia, who is in my same sorority, laughed at my dramatics. She always does it, and it never gets old.

“Someone dropped a letter off. It has your name on it.” She said pointing at my desk where she had placed the letter neatly.

“Oh, thanks.” It was weird that a letter would be brought to my door rather than being placed in the campus mailboxes. I already had anxiety in my stomach. I am not a fan of spontaneity.

My hands grazed over the sloppy handwriting that spelled out my name. Not to be so frank, but it obviously belonged to a frat boy. I could also tell by the dot of dried beer on the top right. Weird. I grabbed a knife from the mug that doubled as a silverware holder and opened the letter. I was careful at first, but the anticipation caused me to rip the envelope in half. I tried, I sighed, and Nadia made a failed attempt to hold her laughs in.

The envelope had a letter inside and a page ripped from a book. On closer inspection, I recognized my youthful scribbles and chicken-scratch notes—it was my annotations. Immediately disgusted, I consulted the note. It must’ve come from the culprit, and I was disgusted at him already.

Prudence,

Jesus. I think I read this book of yours about a 1000x by now. The poetry was bad at first, but better with your notes. You seem really smart. The boys have made fun of me for reading the poems, but I kinda liked them.

I never got to see you at the party but you left your book so I grabbed it. I also don’t know why I wrote a letter instead of texting you. (leaving your number was smart by the way) I just felt like writing a letter would be cooler since it was a poetry book ya feel me?

The night you left the book we hosted Chi Zeta so it wasn’t hard to find you. Don’t take this the wrong way, but Prudence kinda sticks out. Do you have a nickname?

I don’t know what else to write. So I guess I’ll catch you later.

Anonymous Phi Omega

“Is that from the book you lost?” Nadia noticed the page right away.

“Yeah.” I was still looking over the note, “There’s this, too.”

“Ugh! Cute! A love letter?”

“Not really.” It wasn’t. A love letter would never make fun of someone’s name like that. I let Nadia read the note. I knew exactly where she was reading it, because the second she got to the part that made fun of my name, I heard a snicker from her.

“Prudence is a good name, okay.” I felt ridiculous having to defend a name that I didn’t even get to pick, but I loved my name. It reminds me of the Beatles. Plus, my mom said I was an old soul, so it just fit.

“Yeah, dude, it fits you. Prude, you are perfect.” Nadia said sarcastically. She calls me Prude sometimes as a joke. It doesn’t offend me at all, plus sometimes it’s funny, but the Letter Dude seems like the type to run that joke until its dead. For that reason, specifically, I am hoping to God that he doesn’t know me.

“I am not Prude.”

“You’re a virgin. A hella virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but you also can’t say that you’re not prude.”

Sometimes, I feel like Nadia’s one goal in life is to get me laid so she can feel proud to “make me a woman,” her gross word choice, not mine.

“By the way, I invited Ethan to hang out before class.” Nadia gave me a wink. She knew I had such a grossly huge crush on him. He’s a Phi Omega, too, and the only reason why I went to that party. He didn’t even go to it because he ended up having work. He was not necessarily different from the other frat boys, but he spent his free time working or studying, and I liked that. I keep wanting to go to the library and read books with him, but I can barely look at him without wanting to hide.

“For the love of God please make a move.” She walked up to the mirror and dotted her lips with some lipstick.

I watched closely while she did her makeup like I always do. I’m not ugly, but Nadia is just so gorgeous that it’s easy to feel insecure around her. She barely even has to try. She’s tall and can win Miss Universe seconds after getting out of bed. Meanwhile, I’m a short chest-less girl who could probably pass for fourteen. We are not even close to being in the same league.

I heard a knock at the door, and Nadia went to open it. And then there was Ethan. He was wearing his glasses today, and I felt my heart drop to my stomach.

“Ethan, you remember Prudence?” Nadia tried to spark conversation.

I just smiled.

“Yeah, I think I do.” Ethan smiled at me and went to shake my hand. He was a formal dude, but in an also semi-casual way.

His hand was still out to shake mine, and I could feel the sweat collect between my fingers. Elizabeth had said it best, I am embarrassed, and I wish I were dead to hide the shame. I continued to stare at his hand for another millisecond before putting my hand to his.

The touch of his hand made me blush, and I didn’t want him to notice. He was so cool, and I was so not cool in this situation. I could feel the throw up build in my throat, so I climbed back onto my bed and acted like I was setting up my homework for an intense study session.

Nadia practically murdered me with her eyes. I wasn’t ready to deal with her pressure, or even my unrequited love for Ethan, so I ignored both of them.

“Prue, do you want us to go?” Nadia had passive aggressive anger in her voice, and I heard it loud and clear. I think Ethan may have, too.

“No, you guys are fine.” I smiled weakly. Please, God. Make it end.

“Okay, well I’m gonna shower real quick, and then we can leave.” She looked at both Ethan and me. I don’t know how he had not put two and two together and realized that she had just done her makeup and was already ready for class, but men are sometimes oblivious.

I gave her puppy eyes to beg her not to leave me, but she mischievously winked and left anyway. And then it was Ethan and I. Alone.

There was silence for a good three minutes until he spoke up.

“What are you working on?”

I looked down at my lap and noticed my notes on Walt Whitman.

“Just poetry for class. It’s nothing.”

“Well, tell me about it.”

“It’s boring, you don’t have to—”

“I wanna know.” He flashed a smile at me, and his brown eyes sparked a bit.

I melted.

“Well, most consider him to be one, if not the, greatest poets for the English language.”

“Are you one of them?”

“Me? Oh, no. I personally like Elizabeth Barrett Browning better. I think she is English, though.” I tried to keep the nerdy facts on the inside, but I felt like he was reaching into my soul and ripping it out.

“Oh, Sonnets from The Portuguese is amazing.”

Marry me.

“Yeah, I love those poems.” I was getting progressively prouder of myself for being able to hold in my nervousness. It was hard because he was so perfect, but I handled it well.

Nadia slid back into the room and watched the conversation like a proud mother.

“God, you guys should just date already.” Nadia grabbed her notebook off her desk.

I wanted to die.

“So, what are you talking about?”

“Elizabeth Barrett Browning.” Ethan answered for me.

“Prue, is that the poet you read all the time?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Haven’t you also read her stuff recently?” Nadia turned to Ethan.

“Yeah. I’m enjoying it so far.”

What a refined man.

“That’s cool. You both have something in common.”

She waved me goodbye, and Ethan followed. Before closing the door, he did a quick little wave and I smiled in return. Once the coast was clear, I threw my body onto the floor and had freak out. It went so well but was so awkward. I replayed every moment in my head a million times over. I couldn’t stop thinking about him and how perfect he is. I want him to sweep me off my feet and love me forever. I wouldn’t consider that too much to ask.

I thought about Nadia’s final conversation before leaving and something clicked. Ethan is a Phi Omega who recently started reading Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Holy crap. He wrote the letter.