Twelve Months of Awkward Moments

by Lisa Acerbo

  “Gross,” someone shouts.

  I attempt to find the student, but it’s a sea of similar faces. They are all young, most enthusiastic, some disgusted.

  “Time to spread the tentacles apart,” I say. I hear some girls in the summer class squeal. I smile and go on. “Feel inside the mouth to locate the jaw, which was also called a beak. It’s called the beak because it is similar to the beak of a bird.”

  This quiets most of the group as fingers poke gently and not so gently at the dead animals in front of them. After having the students work to remove the beak, I demonstrate how to cut a neat line from the water jet to the fin, in the process exposing the internal organs and the ink sac.

  “Now remove the pen from the end of the fin,” I try to explain, but it is easier to show them. I pull out a white feather quill from the inside of the dead squid and hold it up for everyone to see. The class of sixth-graders does the same. “Use the pen to gorge the ink sac,” I say, “and write your name on the index card I gave you.” The students giggle before digging into their own squid with eager anticipation.

  When class is done, I go around from desk to desk, cleaning up squid tentacles and black squid ink off desks. I decide I need an intervention after I clean up. I decide maybe young children aren’t my specialty, but I’m still considering teaching as a career.

  Chapter 13

  August 1

  You rarely notice the world around you. Sometimes, you get stuck inside your head, your life, and your limitations. Sometimes, you get stuck there for a while. It’s always important to remember to enjoy the sun on your cheek or watch the stars and remember that your universe has no boundaries.

  * * * *

  I sit binging on Netflix when my cell phone rings, starling me. I answer after confirming it is a number I know.

  “You’re still upset with me. I know this,” Kyle says. “Meet me outside.”

  I don’t have time to formulate a response. The phone has already clicked off, emptiness buzzing in my ear. Reggae creeps into the hallway from behind my neighbor’s closed door as I plod down the steps and into the darkness. While I don’t think I have to worry about Rickey anymore, I’m still squeamish about being alone and unprotected.

  He waves me over to his car, which is parked crookedly in one of the guest spaces. I cross the soft grass, damp from recent rain. As I move closer, I cross my arms over my chest. Kyle’s face remains mostly hidden in dark and shadows, the parking lot light too far away to provide any illumination.

  “Okay,” he says before I stop. “I know that I was a jerk the night of the party.”

  My eyebrow shoots up. “We’re past that.”

  He continues, full force. “I wasn’t sure how you felt about what happened between us that first amazing night…”

  “Please don’t make a joke about it.” I feel my nails reflexively dig into the tender flesh of my arm.

  “I’m not. Seriously, I’d never do that.” Kyle reaches out to touch me, but I draw back a few steps. “You’ve become so withdrawn and uncommunicative whenever I try to mention it. Do you want to forget the entire night?”

  “Why would I want to forget it?” I ask. “Are you saying it was bad?”

  “No, I’m not saying that at all.” His voice gets louder, his frustration with me leaking through. “I wondered if, after the Rickey incident, you just wanted to move forward with your life.”

  It’s hard to examine the details of his face in the darkness. But even so, I can hear sincerity in his voice.

  Should I tell him what I feel for him? If I do so, I’m terrified I’ll lose it all: his friendship, his unwavering support, and the possibility of romance and a real relationship. I fidget, nervous and jittery, trying to make up my mind about what to say, how much to reveal of myself.

  He pulls one of his hands out from behind his back, extending a small box my way. “You deserve this after all you’ve gone through.” It’s small, wrapped in white paper, with a multicolored string bow.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Open it.” Even in the darkness, the hint of a smile lights his face.

  I take the box but don’t open it. “Let’s talk more first.”

  I lead him over to the curb, and we both awkwardly squat-sit on the hard stone. He’s so close. The heat of his body reaches for mine. His wintery aftershave is so familiar that I lean close to take in more.

  “I don’t want your gift…” I begin.

  “Don’t say that.” Kyle’s hand finds me.

  “Let me finish. I don’t want the gift until we talk like adults. I want to do this right if we are going to do it at all.” It sounds okay coming out of my mouth, but I’m afraid he’ll turn and flee.

  “Okay. Adulting. Let’s do it.” He rubs my knees to reassure me he’s serious.

  “What do you want to happen with us? Between us?” I’m flustered, not having expected that he would want to talk.

  “I want to be with you. You’re beautiful, smart, and funny.” Kyle pauses. “But I have to know that you’re ready for it, too. You aren’t going to shut me out when you get anxious or have doubts about us. I need you to trust in me and yourself.”

  “I’m trying,” I say.

  “And you’ve come a long way, baby.”

  “Baby?” I ask, not sure if it’s funny or if I’m supposed to be insulted.

  “It was the title of an album. Or maybe a commercial.” He shrugs in the dark, but he is so close, I can feel his shoulder move against mine. “Go with it. It’s been a crazy, tough year, and here you are. Do you know how worried I’ve been about you?”

  I harrumph. “You really showed me at your party.”

  “I’m truly sorry, but I also explained. I really believed you wanted nothing more than friendship and the occasional hook-up.” His hand continues to massage my knee, and I like the feeling.

  “I know. I’m equally at fault for not talking to you about any of this.”

  “Let’s put that incident behind us. We can keep going forward together.”

  I listen to the silence around us. My thoughts want to battle, but this time I go with my heart, letting go of my trepidation. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  It sounds like he wasn’t expecting my answer and doesn’t quite believe it. I smile and begin to unwrap his present. Inside the small box, at the end of a delicate silver chain is a small horseshoe with a single small diamond embedded at the center.

  “For luck,” he says. He inches closer, and then his lips are on mine.

  At this moment, I embrace my good fortune.

  * * * *

  A few days later, we sit at a small table in the back of the dark Italian restaurant. The lights are dim, and candles flicker as centerpieces. There is an old couple to our left, and a scattering of other couples and families throughout the place, but the tables are only half filled. As we read the menus, I can’t help but overhear the couple next to me.

  The woman, plump, with white fluffy hair, talks about how much her hip hurts. The man grunts his replies, mostly stoic and silent, until the conversation focuses on the price of the food. I wonder if this is how my life might be in fifty years.

  At least they’re talking. Being on an official date with Kyle is awkward, and the lack of conversation reflects that. For someone who doesn’t normally have trouble with the ladies, he’s holding out on me.

  And, of course, my anxiety wants to overwhelm me. I have to drive away the self-doubt. I stay quiet, afraid to say the wrong thing and ruin my one chance with Kyle. One part of me can’t imagine why he is here and what he sees in me. Another part of me is mad at myself for thinking that way. I scream at my inner monologue to stop. I focus on the present.

  Kyle is handsome in his bright blue button-down shirt and tan pants. I smell his spicy cologne, which he might have applied a little too liberally, but the smell is comforting. It reassures me that this is the same person I’ve spent four years getting to know. I realize that he understands me j
ust as well.

  “Looks like rain tomorrow,” he says.

  I laugh. “That’s the best you can do? Talk about the weather?”

  His face is strained. “This is making me nervous.”

  “What’s making you nervous?” I’m really curious.

  “Us. You. I mean the change between us.”

  “You do want to do this?” I’m instantly worried that I misread everything, and Kyle is actually here to let me down in a nice way.

  “Of course, I do. I’m just not sure I can do it without some alcohol.”

  My pounding heart begins to settle. “Well, let’s just pretend it’s a normal night out before the change.”

  “The change.” Kyle laughs. “I like that.”

  I’m quiet for a moment. “I’m not sure I do. Reminds me of old people and menopause.”

  “Really, Dani? You want to discuss menopause on our first date.” He’s laughing at me, and I love it.

  “This is a date?” A blush rises to my chest. I hope it doesn’t climb to my cheeks.

  “Our first real date.” He grabs my hand under the table. And I grab his back. It’s strong and warm and right.

  “We’re blowing it big time.” I can’t help but let the worry escape.

  “I’ll work harder.” Kyle’s smile is devastating.

  I believe him. Wine is opened, and fried mozzarella sticks arrive. We dig in. We make it through the main course, and conversation flows as easily as the wine leaves the bottle. I slurp my pasta primavera at one point, and we break out in giggles, getting the evil eye from the old people next to us. We share cheesecake for dessert, and I can’t wait to leave to see what the rest of the night has in store for us.

  “You’re really sexy tonight. I’m not sure I ever noticed that about you before,” Kyle says as he forks his last bite of cheesecake.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You and I have been friends so long, and you rejected my advances so many times, that for a while I stopped seeing you as…” His voice trails off.

  “Yes?”

  “This sounds wrong, and I don’t want to offend you.” He takes a deep breath and a long pause.

  “You can’t offend me.” I smile at him. But I do wonder about my outfit. I didn’t want to try too hard, so I wore jeggings and flats with a black, low-cut, round-neck T-shirt that just hinted at cleavage. My hair is straightened, falling below my shoulders. I passed on the Cleopatra eyes and red lips, applying more subtle shades of brown and pink.

  “Seriously, Dani, you can be super sensitive.” He reaches out, but his hand falls away before it touches my skin.

  “Just say it before you ruin the night.”

  “Let’s go outside first.” He pays the check, refusing to let me help, and we head out into the balmy evening.

  The stars are bright above us. I stare up at them and twirl, light and far removed from reality. They remind me of the eternity before me. As we stand in the parking lot, I realize I better make my short eternity the best possible.

  I tell my anxiety to fuck off. It will be back, but tonight, it’s the monster in the closet that has been banished back to its own world.

  “Spill.” I lean against his car, refusing to get in before he tells me.

  He stands close, hands on either side of me. “For a while, after you wouldn’t come home with me, I just saw you as a friend, one of the guys. You are most definitely not one of them now. And even when I was telling myself we were just friends, I wanted more. Couldn’t you tell?”

  His finger caresses my cheek. It’s soft and slow. His kiss feels like being home and far away on an adventure; it’s like fire and protection from the flames. I lean in for more.

  * * * *

  My shallow, rhythmic breathing beats loud in the early evening. A slice of white moon divides the stars as I run up the steps to my condo. I hold the envelope from Rutgers University Admissions Office with trembling hands as I unlock the door and let myself into the living room. Throwing my backpack on the couch, I stare at my future for a minute, unable to find the strength to tear the envelope apart.

  Finally, I sit on the couch, create a jagged scar across the top fold and open it to find the word “Congratulations” in the first sentence.

  I got in! I got in! I’m going to be a professor!

  I squeal in delight even though no one, except possibly my neighbor, can hear me. I can’t wait to tell Kyle and my family; however, my excitement fades as questions run a marathon through my mind. But I don’t let the doubts dig too deep. Instead, I grab my phone and call Kyle in the next building over from mine.

  “Can you come over?” I ask when he answers.

  “Everything okay?” He sounds worried.

  I realize the last time I demanded he come over without explanation was when Ricky…I don’t finish the thought.

  “Everything is perfect. I just have some good news I want to share.”

  “Be right there.”

  The phone disconnects in my ear. He’s all smiles when I open the door and yank him inside.

  “What’s up?” Curiosity highlights the blue of his eyes.

  “Look!” I hand him the letter.

  He smiles as he reads it, but his expression is strained. “Congratulations,” he says.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t seem happy for me.” I’m confused by his lackluster response to the best thing that has happened to me in months.

  “I am happy for you, but this means you’ll be moving far away.” He sounds bruised.

  “New Jersey isn’t too far.” I want to show him Google maps, but that would be too extreme.

  “Far enough.” He studies the carpet.

  “You knew I wanted to go to grad school.”

  He runs a hand across his lips, and then meets my eyes before speaking. “I just assumed you’d end up somewhere close like back at CCSU or Hartford. There’s lots of good schools around the area.”

  “But none that have my major. Please listen. Let me explain.”

  “Of course, I’ll listen. Now and for the rest of my life. To whatever you have to say, but this thing between us is just starting. You want to take it away from me. You had to know I wouldn’t be excited.”

  My shredded heart sinks to my knees. “I thought you’d be happy for me. I get to continue to do what I love, and they’re going to pay for me. I’ll get tuition and a graduate stipend. That’s pretty amazing.”

  “I’ll miss you too much.” He sinks down on the couch.

  I stand there and sputter. “It’s only like three hours away.”

  “Closer to four.” He carefully places the letter on the coffee table.

  “This is not the reaction I expected.”

  “I want to be happy for you, but I’m kind of sad for myself. I’ll be lost without you.”

  “I felt a bit lost myself, until this. We will work it out. I promise.”

  And work it out we do. Kind of. With promises to text and Facetime and visit each other as often as possible. But as the weeks pass and I plan my departure, I still see that shadow of doubt and unhappiness linger in Kyle’s smile. I work extra hard to make sure it’s gone before I am.

  Sooner than expected, we caravan down to New Jersey with two cars packed full of my belongings. I had said goodbye to Mom and Dad the weekend before. This is my adventure. Mine and Kyle’s.

  I have a small studio off campus, and we arrive in early afternoon. Keys in hand, I unlock the front door to the old brownstone and peer in. We climb the scratched wooden stairs, and I note the scuff marks on the off-white walls from years of students before me.

  When I open the apartment door, the space appears smaller than I remember, and I hope all my stuff will fit. Kyle and I will find out soon enough as we set off and begin to unload the cars. Snuggles has been in the cat carrier, and I let her out. She sniffs around and then puts her tail high in the air to show her displeasure at the long ride and lack of litter box. I quickly remedy that situation.

  A
few hours later, my bedroom closet is jam-packed with clothes, my bed is set up, but the mattress remains sheetless. Unpacked boxes take up most every other space.

  “Break time.” I’m hot and sweaty and overwhelmed by the chaos.

  Kyle glances at his phone. “How about food?” He’s already searching for local options.

  “Yes, Please.”

  We head out into the early evening sunlight, strolling to a local Japanese fusion restaurant. Not knowing what to expect, we are both pleasantly surprised by the meal.

  On the way back to the apartment, Kyle stops me and takes me in his arms. “You know I’m not kidding about us,” he says vehemently. “This here and now is more real than any other I’ve experienced, and I don’t want to lose it or you.”

  I have to think about those words. “You won’t.” I stare at him, his eyes bright with a hint of tears. He’s more than handsome, ruggedly beautiful in the twisty, dim light from the street lamp.

  We amble, hand in hand, until we reached the apartment.

  “You want to come in?”

  “No, this is a good time to take off. If I come in, I’ll stay until tomorrow.”

  “Maybe you’ll stay forever.”

  “I’m tempted.”

  I give him a push toward the car. “Go before I drag you inside with me.”

  His laugh is sad, but at least he is laughing. I watch him until the car blends into the distance. He’s gone, but he will inhabit my thoughts.

  I waited to cry, and now tears skitter down my cheeks like leaves across ice. I can’t stop. But this time, the tears are different. I’m not crying because I feel lost or can’t make a decision. Just the opposite. I made my decision, and while not perfect, it’s all mine.

  Suddenly, it seems important to reach out to those I most love and to let them know how much. Between the crying and the stress of the day and the need to talk to my family, my skin is clammy, and I feel l feverish. I wipe the tears away, draw out my cell phone, and call Mom.