All the While (Senior Semester #3)

by Gina Azzi

  “Fuck.” I blow out, pinching the bridge of my nose. “My head’s all tangled up.” I pause, thinking about what I want to say, how I can explain the emotional stress of the past few weeks without giving everything away. I mean Lauren’s baby scare followed by Maura’s health scare has me nearly tipping over the edge, but I don’t want to betray either of their trust by confiding in Bilson, regardless that he’s a steel vault.

  “Look…” Bilson crosses the room and sits at my desk chair, spinning around to face me and prop his feet up on my bed. “I don’t know what’s going on lately. But we can all tell that you’ve been really stressed out. I know you’ve got a tough course load and practices have been intense but it’s more than that…” He holds his hand up as I start to interject “…I also know that you’re not going to tell me what it is.”

  I laugh lightly and Bilson smiles.

  “Zack, you’re a good dude. A solid guy. So I’m going to tell it to you straight from an outsider’s perspective, yeah?”

  I nod.

  Bilson exhales loudly. “The way you’re acting about Maura Rodriguez…” he whistles low “…you’re not thinking straight. She’s got you all twisted up. You hate if anyone brings her up in conversation, seems to have a friendship with her outside of you. You’re protective and defensive. You’re into her so hard, but you won’t admit it, can’t admit it, even to yourself, because you think you’re betraying Adrian. But we can all see it, dude, you want Maura. And you’re fighting it because of Adrian and because Maura’s not in the right place to do the whole relationship thing right now.”

  Fuck, who is he, Dr. Phil?

  “But you need to realize that as protective as Adrian was over his sister, he was your best friend. And you knew him. Do you really think he would object to you dating, really caring for his sister? Do you think he would rather see her with some of the douchebags she’s been rolling with lately?”

  I raise my eyebrows at him.

  “Philips told me about the guy she was with at the Rittenhouse, and I saw her at a club about a month ago. The guy she was with was huge, tatted to the nines, and I’m not sure if she ever even caught his name before disappearing with him.”

  I cringe, clenching my hands into fists and look back at the ground.

  “You think Adrian would rather one of those guys tangle up with his sister? Because I don’t. I think he would much rather it was you. As long as he knew you were for real. And you are, dude. You’re more for real about Maura than you ever were about any other girl, including Lauren. And at one point, you freaking thought she was the one.”

  I sigh again. He’s right and he knows it.

  “And as for Maura not being in the right place for whatever is going on between you guys, so what? Give her time, be there for her, and when she’s ready, she’ll let you know.”

  I nod again. “You’re right,” I tell him, finally looking up.

  “I know I am, bro. One more thing.”

  “What?”

  “Before you do anything, go home and enjoy Thanksgiving with your family. After a few rounds with Nicole, you’ll come back with a fresh perspective and in a better mood.” He laughs. “Your sister really knows how to push your buttons.”

  I laugh with him. “Yeah, she does.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Huntington. I’m heading out after practice tomorrow. When you get back, settle this shit.”

  “I will. Thanks, James.”

  “Yeah.” He gets up from the chair and opens my bedroom door. “By the way, the house is doing dinner tonight. Pre-Thanksgiving. 7:00 PM.”

  I smile. It’s been too long since we all shared a meal together. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good.”

  Then he closes the door, and I listen as his footsteps thump back down the stairs.

  Damn, James is right. Sometimes I forget how well my friends know me, even if they’re not Adrian. Letting out a long exhale, I pause to really think about what James said. I know he’s right about Adrian wanting Maura to be with someone who really cares for her, who treats her right, who wants to be with her for real. And if I’m honest with myself, then I am the right guy for her.

  * * *

  That night I text Maura to make sure she’s okay and doesn’t need anything. She never responds, yet I know she’s just avoiding me, avoiding the world. And so I give her space, let her have her time, because when I am ready to commit to her, she won’t be hiding from me so easily.

  Afterward I pack a quick bag of clothes and some text books and make my way downstairs in time for dinner. Man, what an awesome spread it is. Bilson and D’Arco went all out, ordering a turkey and cooking up some mashed potatoes, green beans, and mac and cheese. D’Arco’s mom sent over an apple pie for dessert. Hunt picked up a case of Yuengling. The four of us sit around the table and reminisce, laugh, and share stories of Adrian, every now and then our eyes cutting to his empty chair, until the early morning hours.

  For the first time in a long time, it feels like it used to. Before Adrian died. Before I learned to live with a pit of guilt in the center of my stomach. Before I fell for Maura Rodriguez.

  Chapter Forty

  Maura

  Thanksgiving with Mom and Dad isn’t nearly as strained as the dinners we shared throughout the summer. It’s our first Thanksgiving without Adrian and it’s much quieter than it used to be, although Mom cooked her usual Thanksgiving spread: turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, yams with the marshmallows, pumpkin pie. I can tell she’s really trying to be present in the moment. She asks me about rowing, my Photography class, the girls. Dad chimes in from time to time with stories about my cousins.

  After dinner I think we’re all relieved to escape to the noisiness of Tio Jorge and Tia Ana’s home for dessert and coffee. I know Tia Ana invited us over for dinner, but Dad said Mom really wanted to cook her traditional meal. After months of zapped energy and blank eyes, she’s really trying to turn herself around and regain some normalcy to her life. Thanksgiving dinner was always Adrian’s favorite and part of me wonders if she cooked it for him anyway.

  Tio and Tia’s provides the perfect after dinner distraction. My cousins entertain me with the latest occurrences in their lives: boyfriends and girlfriends, football season, college applications, my tia Ana and tia Jolene captivate me with a hysterical recounting of how my cousin Jose tried to fix his unibrow and ended up shaving off most of his eyebrows, my tio Jorge slips me a twenty for “beer money.” During spontaneous moments, I find myself enjoying the company, the conversation, the holiday. And then I remember that Adrian is gone and so is my baby, and I feel horribly guilty, devastatingly sad, and terribly lost.

  Zack texts me throughout the day to check on me, to wish my family a Happy Thanksgiving, to remind me to eat something. Zack, my one bright spot in all of the destruction I seem to cause. Each time my phone chimes with a new message, I hope that it’s him. And when it is, I can’t stop the flicker of a smile that ghosts my lips. He’s gone home to Nebraska for the long weekend.

  And I can’t help but miss him.

  * * *

  On Friday I take the train up to New York to visit Lila. My mom seems to know that something is off with me, and she keeps reaching out to try and talk. On the one hand I’m relieved that she notices that I’m not myself, that she’s past the grief and sorrow that clung to her over the summer months. On the other hand I am definitely not ready to confide in her about the past few weeks; I’m not sure if I’ll ever be. The wound is too fresh, and I’m still drowning in waves of anguish. So I escape to New York. To Lila.

  When I walk into the Avers’ house, Lila folds me into a hug, the strawberry scent of her blond hair enveloping me as she clings to my frame. She pulls back slightly and looks at me, her eyes wounded and guarded and searching. Her face is pale and the usually bright, dancing blue of her eyes is dull and flat. She’s struggling with what happened to her at a party a few weeks ago. She’s closed herself off and isn’t sure how to move forward.
My heart breaks for her, and I pull her back in for a second hug.

  Even though she hasn’t come out and said it, I know that on top of everything she’s dealing with, she’s nursing a shattered heart. I guess in a way I am too. Although, a boy broke her heart while I’m solely responsible for my own heartache. Either way, neither of us is much company, but still I feel better just being around her.

  “Li?” I ask her as we sit at her mom’s kitchen table, eating leftover turkey and stuffing. “You good?”

  Lila looks up suddenly, momentary confusion clouding her eyes, as if she’s surprised to see me sitting across from her.

  “Yeah.” She nods.

  “Li?” I ask gentler this time, “Talk to me.”

  She tries to smile but a tear slides down her cheek, giving away just how much pain she’s in. “I miss him,” she whispers.

  “I know.”

  “I just…” she lets her fork clatter back to the plate she’s been pushing food around on “…I feel so, I don’t know, alone.”

  I reach over the table, grabbing one of her hands in mine, trying to still her jerky movements. “I know. But I’m here. And Li, I swear it gets easier.”

  She smiles tightly, pulling her hand out from under mine. “Come on, let’s make some popcorn and watch a movie or something.”

  I acquiesce, picking up our plates and clearing them off while Lila tosses a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Following Lila into the living room, I sit next to her on the couch, grabbing a handful of the popcorn she offers. We’re munching on popcorn and sipping wine, chatting about random movies to watch or TV series we can start when Lila’s mom takes a seat on the armchair and flips the channel to ESPN.

  And there, speaking out again sexual assault on college campuses, is Cade. Lila’s Cade. Defending her, protecting her, loving her.

  “Holy shit.” I chew my mouthful of popcorn, my eyes glued to Cade’s face on the television. “He loves you.”

  Moments later, Lila’s mom echoes my thoughts.

  I take Lila’s hand in mine and when I glance over at her, I see pure love shining in her eyes as she watches Cade, mesmerized and hopeful.

  I breathe out in relief. Lila’s going to be okay. Cade will make sure of it. I almost smile, watching her watch him. I’ve never been so grateful to someone I’ve never even met, but Cade Wilkins truly is a special guy. And I’m beyond thankful for his presence in my friend’s life.

  “What are you going to do?” I ask Lila.

  But she’s too focused on Cade to respond.

  And besides, I already know the answer.

  There’s no other guy in the world that could make Lila feel the way Cade Wilkins does.

  * * *

  Later that night I twist my hair up into a bun on top of my head to take a quick shower. Shedding my clothes, I study my reflection in the mirror. Turning to the side, I note my profile. My belly is still flat. No sign of my pregnancy, nothing that shows just weeks ago a little miracle grew there. It’s like nothing ever happened.

  How do you overcome something that you can’t see? How can others ever understand a loss that doesn’t leave visible scars? Does Lila feel the sense of devastation that overwhelms me? First Adrian, now my baby. And to a stranger on the street, I look perfectly well, normal, not a hair out of place.

  Yet inside, my heart is broken, my spirit shattered.

  Will I ever feel whole again? Can my heart patch itself back together? Can my spirit grow wild again? Or will I forever shield myself in a loss so great I feel it bleed from my skin. It has scored my heart, marked my soul, and I fear I will never feel like myself again.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Zack

  Thanksgiving in the Huntington household has always been a bit over the top. This year is no different. Mom has the house decorated in autumn colors, a wreath made of leaves, pinecones, and gold ribbon hangs on the front door and mason jars covered in twine hold mixed bouquets of dahlias, mums, and Queen Anne’s lace. I shouldn’t know this but after years of being forced to help decorate and arrange flowers, I’m on top of my flower game.

  “Straight out of Pinterest.” My sister winks at me as she places a chocolate turkey next to each place setting in the dining room.

  “Mom’s happy,” I remind her.

  She laughs. “Mom’s always happy.”

  It’s the truth. Nicole and I are lucky when it comes to our parents. While most of my friends and teammates dread going home for the long winter break or summer vacations, Nicole and I always enjoyed reuniting back at Mom and Dad’s. Our mom never missed a football game, gymnastics meet, or school bake sale. She always made us homemade Halloween costumes and birthday cakes. We never walked to or from school. And dinners were always a happy time to gather and chat. Our dad worked hard, but when he walked through the front door at 7:00 PM, his eyes lit up at the sight of Mom turning a wooden spoon in a big pot on the stove or pressing one of his shirts on the iron. He worships her. And she idolizes him. And although our household was one delineated on strict gender roles and old-fashioned notions, our parents have an incredibly loving marriage, and Nicole and I benefitted from a stable and nurturing upbringing. The holidays always just reinforce how fortunate I am.

  Nicole and I help Mom and Dad cook up a giant feast that our aunts and uncles and cousins all gather at our dining table to enjoy. Grandma Chloe sits at the head of the table, saying grace and raising her wine glass in a toast. And our family descends on the plates piled high with food like vultures, everyone eating and talking and laughing until we’re all too full to move and stuffed with enough tryptophan to require a massive nap. At this point in the day, the cousins claim pillows and giant quilts and we all settle down in a haphazard cluster in front of the fireplace to snooze, football playing in the background.

  “No Lauren this year?” My cousin Emery asks as she fluffs a pillow next to mine.

  “No,” I say, not bothering to elaborate.

  “I heard you guys were back together,” she tries again.

  “We’re not. We had a brief moment in September but never got back together.”

  “That’s not your Facebook status.”

  I laugh. “I don’t have a Facebook status.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Well, you should check Lauren’s updates then. Her status is: It’s Complicated. She was posting as if you guys were already engaged. Although, you’re right; her posts have died down a bit lately. Still, we were all expecting to see her. Well, Cam was just hoping she’d be here.”

  I laugh, letting any mention of Lauren roll off my back. No use getting upset. I was completely honest and straightforward with her. How she chooses to process that information is her issue. My cousin Cameron is nine and has had a major crush on Lauren from the moment he met her.

  “It’s not like that,” I tell Emery. “It never was.”

  Nicole snorts on my other side, and I elbow her in the ribs.

  “You should make sure Lauren knows that,” Emery says, pulling a quilt up around her shoulders and turning on her side, away from me.

  I look at Nicole and raise my eyebrows. What is that about?

  Nicole’s eyes widen in response. Emery and Scott broke up. She’s projecting.

  I nod in understanding.

  Nicole stifles a laugh by pretending to yawn and turns away from me, snuggling into her pillow.

  Nestled between my sister and Emery, with Cam’s stinky feet sometimes kicking the top of my head, I close my eyes and try not to think about Maura. I try to think of nothing and just relax. Little by little, the stiffness in my back subsides, the soreness in my shoulders eases, and I start to drift. Maybe it’s because for a moment I’m reliving my childhood. Maybe it’s because the beer has gone straight to my head. Or maybe it’s because being with family always manages to somehow put everything in perspective. But when I do fall asleep, I’m completely out.

  Later, Nicole tells me I snored.

  * * *

  “War!” Nicole announ
ces, flipping over her next card. Nine of hearts.

  We both count out three cards facedown and flip over a fourth. “You win,” I tell her noting her King of Spades. Pushing all the cards in her direction, she stacks them neatly and adds them to the end of her pile.

  “So,” Nicole begins, taking a sip of her coffee spiked with Bailey’s, “what gives? You were quiet today. And you’re never quiet.”

  I shrug glancing around the kitchen. Hours ago this room was buzzing with chatter, filled with delicious aromas, swarming with people. It was also a massive mess as piled dishes littered countertops and half-empty beer bottles lined the windowsill over the sink. Now, it’s quiet and calm and clean with just a hint of the organic lemon cleaner Mom uses hanging in the air. I’ve always loved Thanksgiving, loved the food most but also the company. My family is big and loud and crazy. But they’re mine. And today I enjoyed just watching the interactions between everyone.

  “It was a nice day. Good to be home,” I say to Nicole instead.

  “Right. So what happened with Lauren?” She fixes me with a raised eyebrow.

  “Wow, no lead-up there. Just going in straight for the kill, huh?” I ask her, taking the two cards as I win the round.

  “I’ve never been known for my subtlety.”

  “Ha. Yeah, I know.”

  “So?”

  “I ended it back at the start of October after we talked. You were right, and I told her I didn’t want to get back together, that we broke up for a reason, that I thought we were just doing casual.”

  She snorts. “Casual is never a word that girl understood. What happened? She did post on social media all through October insinuating that something was going on between you guys.”

  “I’m not sure. She started acting bizarre. You know D’Arco told me that after we broke up last year she would wait around the house looking for me, send the guys messages to see where I was.”