CourtShip

by Noelle Adams

“That’s okay. I’ll stop with you. It’s a decent show but not good enough to keep watching without you.”

  She beams up at me as she clicks on the next episode. She eventually rearranges herself so her head is in my lap.

  I like it there. I stroke her hair and rub her neck and only half watch the television show. The rest of my mind thinks about Courtney and about what’s going to happen when I move to take a job.

  We’ve been together as a couple for nine months now.

  I had no idea last year that I was capable of being so happy.

  But ever since I started applying for jobs and getting interviews, a thread of anxiety has been lingering in the back of my brain.

  What if Courtney doesn’t want to come with me?

  She loves me. I know she does. But she’s only twenty-four, and she’s never made even a hint about moving when I do. She loves her job here. She loves her friends. She’s been getting closer to her mother recently, and her mom is just a half hour away from town.

  Her life is here. How can I possibly ask her to leave it all just so I can keep her with me?

  But the time for a decision is finally here. I’ve gotten three job offers, and I need to decide on them by next week. Which means I can’t stall any longer in having this discussion with Courtney.

  Can we manage a long-distance relationship if she doesn’t want to come with me?

  I think so.

  I hope so.

  I’ll do anything to make it work with her.

  I click off the show when the episode is over. Courtney rolls over, her head still in my lap, and gives me a sleepy smile. “Did you want me to go home so you can keep watching?”

  She still has her apartment down the hall, although we’ve been spending almost every night together for months.

  “No, I don’t want you to go home.”

  “I can read in the bedroom if you—”

  “I told you. I’m not going to keep watching this show without you.”

  “Okay. It ends better this way anyway. You can come to bed with me if you want.”

  Despite my rising nerves, my body responds to the gleam in her blue eyes. My gaze slips down to her breasts in her flimsy tank top. They’re full and rounded, and her nipples are tight through the fabric of her top. One of the straps is slipping down, revealing an expanse of smooth, fair skin and the graceful curve of her neck and shoulder.

  It doesn’t matter how often I’ve had sex with her in the past nine months. I still want her just as much.

  “You do want to come to bed with me,” she says, nuzzling my groin in a half-teasing gesture. I’m wearing Captain America pajama pants she bought me for Christmas, and they do nothing to disguise the fact that I’m starting to get hard. “Even though we just had sex this morning. Who would have thought my sweet, cerebral, curly-haired boy would be such a horndog?”

  “I’m only a horndog when it comes to you.” I clear my throat and shift my hips slightly. “But we can indulge that side of me later. I actually wanted to talk for a few minutes before we start doing anything else.”

  Her smile fades as she sits up, drawing her legs beneath her as she turns to face me. “What’s the matter, Shipley?”

  “Nothing. I just want to talk.”

  “You want to talk about something that makes you nervous, so now you’ve made me nervous too.”

  She knows me too well. She can read me better than anyone. It’s occasionally inconvenient. “I didn’t mean to make you nervous. I just...”

  I can’t finish whatever I’m trying to say. Opening up is still the hardest thing for me. It might be nice if finding love would miraculously fix all your issues, but life doesn’t work that way.

  If something goes deep, it’s still hard for me to get it said.

  Courtney is completely sober now, watching me from beneath her eyelashes. She waits for a minute to see if I’ll continue. When I don’t, she asks gently, “What did you want to talk about, Shipley?”

  “About the job offers.” There. I managed to say something.

  Her lips part slightly. “Okay.”

  “I need to make a decision by Monday.”

  “I know you do. What are you thinking? Did you want to talk out the options?”

  I nod.

  “Okay. Is there one in particular you’re leaning toward?”

  “I actually wanted to know what you think.”

  “What I think?”

  “Yes. This affects you too. So I want to know... what you think.”

  Her face has softened slightly. “That’s sweet, Shipley. But it has to be your decision. It’s your career. You’ve worked so hard for this. I’m so proud of you. And I’m thrilled that so many universities want you.”

  Job searches in academia are often agonizingly difficult affairs, so I was amazed that things went so smoothly for me, despite my rather esoteric research interests. I’d turned my dissertation into a book that was published this year by a good university press, and I’ve got a contract for another book on my postdoc research. I also have a handful of articles published in reputable journals and five years of teaching experience. I had dozens of preliminary interviews, half of which led to requests for campus interviews. I weeded out the possibilities at that stage and ended up with five campus interviews, leading to the three job offers.

  “Yeah, but I still want to know what you’re thinking. This affects you too, doesn’t it?” My voice breaks just slightly on the last word.

  She reaches over to take my hand. “Of course it does. But it’s important to me that you get the job you want most. We can work everything else out from there.”

  I exhale and squeeze her hand before letting it go. “Well, one of the jobs is less than an hour from here. That’s going to be the easiest for us to manage.”

  I’m watching her face, so I see it tighten momentarily. Like what I’ve said upsets her. “Y-yeah. But if you want the job in New England, Shipley, then you need to take that one. I told you we’ll work it out.”

  I smother a groan and tug on my hair. “I know what you told me, but I want to know what you think. How could you possibly think that I’d make this decision without you?”

  “I don’t think you’re making it without me. I’m sitting right here, talking to you. But can’t you understand that I want you to be as happy as it’s possible for you to be? Your job is a big part of that. So tell me what job sounds the best to you.” Her eyes are big and earnest, and it still looks like something has upset her.

  I hate that she’s upset. It’s making it even harder for me to get words out. “The job closest to here would work best. We could still see each other all the time, and you could keep your job and be close to your mom and—”

  “Damn it, Shipley! Stop trying to take care of me.”

  I jerk in surprise at her sharp tone. My stomach twists as I process what she just said to me.

  “I’m sorry, baby.” She’s scooting over closer to me, leaning against my side. “I didn’t mean I don’t want you to take care of me. I love that you always try to do that.”

  I’m relaxing at her words, at how obviously she means them. I wrap an arm around her and hold her against me.

  Courtney rubs her cheek against my T-shirt. “But you’ve never seemed to understand that I want to take care of you too.”

  “I know you do,” I manage to say.

  “So this is me doing that. Please tell me what job is going to make you happiest.”

  I open my mouth and then close it again. The words are trapped in my throat.

  Courtney just waits, still leaning against me. After a minute, she rubs her palm along the length of my thigh.

  The touch is soothing, supportive. I take a deep breath and blow it out.

  “I love you, Shipley,” she whispers. “I’m with you in this, the way I’m with you in everything else. That’s never going to change.”

  It’s like she snapped the last thread holding the words back. They all come spilling out. “I like
all three jobs for different reasons. Maybe not the New England one as much. It’s the most prestigious, but it’s going to have the most pressure, and I don’t know if I want to live like that. I want my nonwork life to be good too, so I’d rather not have so much stress. I might just cross that one off, if it’s okay with you. But I like the other two jobs a lot. I mean it.”

  She’s smiling now. “Well, that’s good then. We’re down to two options. What’s going to make you the happiest? I mean, if I wasn’t a factor in the decision, which one would you choose?”

  “But you are a factor,” I burst out, surprising myself by saying what I hadn’t intended to say right now. “I can’t imagine being happy without you, no matter what job I have in the world. And if you want to know what’s going to make me happiest, I’ll tell you. It’s being with you. Living with you. Having you move with me. I know it’s not fair for me to expect that, when your whole life is here, but you wanted to know the truth, and that’s it. I don’t want to leave you behind. And I know you’re not even twenty-five yet, and it’s probably too soon for me to expect you to want to... want to set up a... a cozy domestic life with me. But you wanted to know what I really want, and that’s it. You’re more important to me than my job. Any job.”

  She’s staring at me with huge eyes as I finally end my embarrassingly earnest ramblings. I feel as naked as I’ve felt in my entire life.

  I clear my throat. “Well. You asked.”

  She makes a strange sound and starts to shake. She bends over, hiding her face in my lap.

  I have no idea what’s happening. It’s like she’s shattered in front of my eyes. “Courtney? Honey, are you okay?”

  She straightens up again, and her face has transformed. She’s radiant. Shining. “Yes, I’m okay, you idiot.”

  “Why am I an idiot?”

  “Because I’ve been waiting for ages now for you to ask me to move with you! I really thought for a while that you were just going to pick up and leave without me. I was afraid it was too soon or something.”

  “What? Of course I want you to move with me.”

  “Then why didn’t you say so?” Despite her words, she doesn’t sound outraged. She sounds... delighted, like she’s choking on laughter.

  All my anxiety has disappeared in a flash. I’m smiling like a fool. “I want you to be happy. You’d have to leave everything behind. And I didn’t want to... expect too much.”

  She’s sobbing and laughing as she leans against me. “You idiot. You still don’t know?”

  I wrap both arms around her and hold her tight. “Don’t know what?”

  “You’re the thing that makes me happiest.”

  “Oh. Then we’re in the same boat then.” I bury my face in her hair. She smells like vanilla almond, and the scent evokes pleasure, affection, security, perfect peace. “Because you make me happiest too.”

  We hug for another minute until she finally pulls away. She’s still beaming as she says, “So, assuming that I’m going with you wherever you go, which of the two would you prefer?”

  “I’d still be happy with either of them. And I’m serious about not wanting you to give up your job.”

  “I can find another—”

  “But why should you? You love your job. And your job is just as important as mine is. So if I’m working less than an hour away from here, you could keep yours. We could both have jobs we love. Maybe we could live in between. Then we’d each have just a twenty-five-minute commute.”

  “Really?” she asks in a hoarse whisper. “You wouldn’t mind that?”

  “Of course I wouldn’t mind! We’d still be close to our friends, and you’d be close to your mom, and we could both have jobs we love. So what if it means I’ll finally have to buy a car.”

  “So you... you want to take that job?”

  “Yes. I want to take that job.”

  “Then do it!” She’s so happy she’s practically hugging herself, and it’s a visceral confirmation of how much she wants this.

  How much she wants me to be happy.

  How much she wants to build a life with me.

  How she loves me forever, exactly as I love her.

  I’m so rocked by the idea that my eyes blur over.

  “You okay, baby?” she murmurs, turning my head toward her and then cupping my cheek with her hand.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re happy?”

  “Yeah. I’m happy.”

  “Good. I want you to be happy. Just as happy as I am. See what happens when you open up? Sometimes it can make us even happier.”

  “Yeah.”

  She giggles and nuzzles my neck. “So if there’s anything else you want to open up about, I hope you won’t be afraid to do it. I’m not going anywhere, Shipley. You picked me up from your doorway four years ago, and you’ve been stuck with me ever since. You’re going to be stuck with me forever.”

  I open my mouth because I’ve thought of something.

  Something I didn’t think I would be able to say yet.

  “What is it, Shipley? Is there something else?”

  “Y-yeah.”

  “So tell me. Tell me everything.”

  I don’t tell her. I surge to my feet, take a few seconds to catch my balance since all the emotions are making me dizzy, and then stride into my bedroom. I open my underwear drawer and rifle through it until my hand lands on a small box.

  I wrap my fingers around it and carry it back into the living room.

  Courtney is waiting on the couch with a bewildered expression. “What’s going on, Shipley?”

  “There’s something else. And it’s fine if it’s too soon or if you’re not ready or whatever. You’re not going to hurt my feelings. Not after you just agreed to move with me. But you said you wanted me to open up and tell you everything, so this is it. This is everything.” I sit down on the couch beside her because my legs aren’t holding me up anymore.

  “What’s everything?” She looks both excited and confused.

  I show her the little box in my hand and hear her quick intake of breath. I flip the lid open.

  Inside is a ring. A pretty gold ring with a diamond solitaire. It’s not one of the sleek, generic, modern engagement rings. It’s a vintage ring from the fifties, and it has history and character and a quirky sense of style. I saw it last year in an antique shop I visited with her and her mother, and I had to sneak back to buy it since it reminded me so much of Courtney.

  I’ve been holding on to it ever since. Waiting.

  “Ship-ley,” she breathes, staring down at the ring.

  “It’s fine if it’s too soon,” I say again, swallowing hard. “I just wanted to tell you. I mean, ask you. I mean, I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. I want everything with you. And, whenever you’re ready, I want... I want this.”

  I’m about to close the box again when Courtney snatches it from me. She raises it closer to her head, her face glowing as she stares down at it. “I want this too.”

  “You do?”

  She nods and keeps nodding. “Yes, you idiot. I’m ready now. Any time. If you... if you want to ask me something.”

  My hand is shaking as I reach for the box, but she won’t relinquish it. So we have a silly little struggle until I manage to wrest the box from her. She’s giggling as I take out the ring.

  “I love you, Courtney. You’re everything to me. I never thought I would be allowed to ask for what I really want, to expect the thing that makes me most happy. But that’s you. And I’m going to ask for you anyway.” My voice is wobbling a little, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “So will you marry me?”

  She throws her arms around me. “Yes, I’ll marry you! I’ve been hoping you would ask me one day.”

  I hug her back and then put the ring on her finger, and we both gaze down at it in a sappy daze.

  I know she’s as happy as I am because eventually her joy comes spilling out in a giggle. She throws herself at me again, and this time I end up lying on the co
uch with her on top of me.

  She seems very pleased to be there. She straddles my hips and rubs my chest over my shirt. “How long have you had this ring?”

  “Since November,” I admit.

  “Why didn’t you ask me earlier?”

  “I thought it was too soon.”

  “It’s not too soon. We’ve been a couple forever. And CourtShip was a done deal from that very first night, when the sweetest, cutest guy I’ve ever known picked me up off the hallway floor.” Her expression twists slightly with emotion.

  I’m so happy I’m afraid I’m going to embarrass myself, and it’s a relief when I feel my body responding to her soft, warm weight. At least lust is familiar and manageable.

  It won’t rip me apart like this wave of pure joy.

  “You were a gift,” I tell her. “Right there at my door. Like someone left you for me as a gift. And I knew for the first time that the universe can ultimately be good because it gave me a gift like you.”

  She leans over to kiss me. “I got the gift too. I can’t believe I’m going to have a husband.”

  “Well, you are.”

  “And a house? Can we maybe get a little house?”

  “Of course we can. But maybe we should rent one to begin with until we know exactly where we want to end up.”

  “That sounds good. We can rent a little house somewhere in between our jobs. And can it have a front porch? I’ve always wanted a house with a front porch.”

  “Definitely. If you want a front porch, then that’s what we’ll get. What else do you want in a house?”

  “That’s it. I’m not picky. Just a front porch. And you. And maybe a little dog?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Definitely a dog.”

  “And maybe a family? Not yet, but later on. A couple of little kids in our little house with our little dog?” She raises her head to check my expression.

  I don’t know what she sees in my face, but it almost makes her cry.

  “That’s a yes?” she whispers.

  I nod, too emotional to easily get the words out. “That’s a yes.”

  She hugs me then, and I hug her back, and we spend most of the rest of the night hugging in one way or the other.

  It’s the best night I’ve ever had.