by Mariano, Sam
I may hope for the best, but I plan for the worst, and the worst case scenario is I give up a free ride at a great school to follow Carter to New York. Fast forward six months, I catch him with some vicious pre-law brunette who doesn’t even bother to cover up her perfect breasts when I walk in on them in our bed. Instead, she smirks at me, knowing she’s won the game and the prize is all hers now.
I trust Carter, but I also know I’ll always have to deal with other women chasing him. He’s too much of a catch, especially on the surface. The average woman won’t know his dark side or his baggage, but she’ll see his money in the clothes he wears, his intelligence in the classes they take together, how handsome he is because she will inevitably have eyeballs. Even if he’s never interested in anyone but me, there will be women who think they can steal him away from me—who will actively try. And while I do have faith in Carter, the reality is if the worst happened and I’d already given everything up for him, I would absolutely hate myself.
I can’t take that risk. I won’t.
I also can’t look at him when I’m thinking such awful things, so I sigh and look up at the ceiling instead.
“What’s wrong?” Carter asks.
“Nothing. Just thinking about the future.”
“You have your defensive, daddy issue face on,” he informs me. “Are you thinking about me on a beach with a super model again?”
Even though it’s hardly funny, I can’t help smiling faintly as this little game of Infidelity Clue he has gotten used to. It’s not the professor with the candlestick in the kitchen, but in my own personal hell, it’s some pretty girl in some location with the guy who’s supposed to be mine. He’s remarkably tolerant about my worries. Poking fun at them instead of getting annoyed seems to work for him, so I go with it.
“In this bed with a gorgeous but vicious future lawyer. She seduces you and ruins my life, then I hate myself because in this scenario, I gave up college in PA to move here and go to City College instead. Now my pride demands that I leave you, but I’m broke, so I end up in a shared studio apartment with a crazy, loud roommate, living on Ramen noodles and cursing your name.”
“A lot of scenarios end up with you cursing my name,” he points out.
“There are a lot of ways you could be a disappointing jerk,” I tell him.
“Maybe by the time I retire, you can tell me every last one of them,” he suggests.
“I think we’d need a couple lifetimes for that. The doubtful side of my mind is very prolific.”
Even though we’re just playing, he looks over at me seriously for a moment. “You know I love you, right?”
Guilt pinches me because I know these are my issues, not his. Since everything happened with Erika, Carter has been 100 percent trustworthy, and when I think about it logically, I really don’t believe he would do anything to jeopardize our relationship. It’s just that sometimes fear takes hold, a fear he isn’t even entirely responsible for putting there, and it makes me go to crazy places in my mind, places that convince me I need to protect myself from the one person in the world I want to give every bit of my trust to.
Trust is scary by nature, but I tell myself if Carter can trust me with his baggage, I can certainly trust him with mine. My baggage might be a nuisance sometimes, but his is next level, and I deal with all of it without complaint.
Being here like this, though, seeing the life I can’t have… it does kind of make me want to push him away. He’s giving me more to miss, and I had enough already.
As if he can read my mind and he wants to drive it home even more, he reaches over, snakes an arm beneath me, and tugs me against his side.
“Get over here, you.”
I wrap my arms around him and snuggle up close, but my mind won’t stop wandering to unpleasant places. Even things I was looking forward to are starting to wilt into unpleasantness. Conjuring an image of the twin-sized bunk bed in the dorm room I’ll share with three other girls… while Carter, bless his heart, is living like a king in New York, single and eligible, attending what would have been my dream school if my dreams weren’t grounded in reality. Even in the wildest of my dreams, I can’t go to Columbia, and he fell right into it. I hope he appreciates all of this, because Carter Mahoney is the luckiest person I have ever met.
“What are you thinking now?” he asks.
I sigh. “Impossible things. I wish long-distance wouldn’t be so hard.”
“Might not be as hard as you think,” he tells me. His tone is too blasé though, so I don’t believe him. He hasn’t considered how lonely he will be with a girlfriend too far away to ever spend the night with him. I have, and I have many rounds of Infidelity Clue to show for it.
“It wouldn’t be fair to either of us,” I tell him.
Carter is quiet for a moment, then he says words that turn my beating heart into an ice sculpture. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
He’s never agreed with me before. I’m the one trying to keep us rooted in reality and Carter is the one blissfully positive that even if we only saw each other every other weekend for a single day, our relationship is worth hanging onto. Carter is the one who refuses to accept defeat, so if he is finally agreeing…
Well, it’s inconvenient that he finally came around on day one of this trip. It will probably be a little awkward now, walking around with someone I am 100 percent positive is my future ex-boyfriend.
The vicious brunette appears in my mind again, smirking because her family could afford to send her to Columbia, because she runs in Carter’s circles and is exactly the kind of girl he was meant to end up with. Me, I’m just the girl he was supposed to leave behind in Texas, and boy would she not shy away from telling me that.
“Your future wife’s a bitch,” I inform him, scooting out of his embrace so I can sit up.
Carter cracks a smile. “Hey, no one talks about my future wife like that.”
I wrinkle up my nose with displeasure and go to climb off the bed.
“Hey, where are you going?” he asks, grabbing my wrist and tugging me backward.
“We need to unpack. Everything your sister picked out for me is highly prone to wrinkling. Unless you want the first item on our itinerary to be a trip to an authentic New York dry cleaner, I need to hang up my clothes.”
Reluctantly, he lets me go. I leave him alone in the bedroom, coaching myself to get it together as I head toward the luggage. There is no reason to let our doomed future dull our enjoyment of this weekend. Knowing it will end doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it while it’s happening, and Carter has really been looking forward to this trip. For that matter, so have I.
By the time I make it back to the bedroom, I am in better spirits. I hoist the suitcase up on the bed and unzip it, then Carter watches me unpack. He hasn’t told me any of the things we’ll be doing this weekend, but I trust him to take care of the planning. He knows New York much better from living here than I possibly could from hours of looking online.
I hope he takes me to see the tree at Rockefeller Center, though. I’d love to lace up some skates and stumble around on the ice with him. Afterward, we could warm up with some hot chocolate while we stroll through the lively city streets.
Carter is still on the bed, his weight propped up on his elbow. “What’s that smile for?” he asks.
“Just thinkin’ about touristy things. I hope you’re not opposed to doing touristy things just because you used to live here, because I am, in fact, a tourist.”
“There are touristy activities on the docket, don’t worry.”
I nod once. “Good. Also, I have decided to look on the bright side of all this. You and I are about to dive into a super exciting time in both our lives, and there’s no reason to let the inevitability of your bitchy future wife ruin it.”
He rolls on his back and props his hands behind his head. “Go on.”
“Until one of us isn’t single anymore, maybe I could still come visit you here during the school year. Obviously we would
have to stop once one of us moves on, but…” I trail off, shrugging as I hang the last blouse on a hanger. “I don’t know, just something to think about.”
“You’ll do periodic booty calls, but not a long distance relationship?”
“Correct,” I tell him, crossing to the closet. The small amount of space my clothes take up in this closet is a bit pitiful, even though I only packed for the weekend. If I actually lived here, I probably wouldn’t fill much more space than this since I don’t have a large wardrobe. Closing the closet door, I tell him, “If we keep it casual, we don’t owe each other anything but honesty. You won’t be required to spend every night alone after a phone call with a girlfriend who lives in another state, and I won’t have to worry about all the sexy New York ladies who will inevitably throw themselves at you. When I’m not here, you can do whatever you want with whomever you want.”
“And you can do whatever you want with whomever you want.”
“Obviously.”
Carter shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Don’t shoot it down without consideration,” I tell him, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s a way for us to still enjoy each other for a little longer without ripping my heart out.”
Without warning, Carter crawls over, pushes me back on the bed, and climbs on top of me. Cocking an eyebrow as he looks down at me, he reminds me, “Remember what I did last time I thought you were seeing another guy? It may not be easy to ruin some asshole’s life when he’s in PA and I’m here, but you better believe I’ll find a way.”
I crack a smile, grabbing his sides and rubbing affectionately. “No, it wouldn’t be like that. You and I would essentially have to evolve into friends with benefits. We couldn’t be possessive or we’d both be miserable.”
“I reject this proposition. I don’t want you to be my friend with benefits, I want you to be mine, period.”
Sighing and dropping my hands from his sides, I tell him, “I want that, too, but it’s not an option. I’m just trying to find a way to salvage things between us without ruining them.”
Carter takes my wrists and pins them over my head, then leans down so that his handsome face is much closer to mine. “As usual, Ellis, you’re thinking too small. Haven’t you learned by now, you’ve gotta go big or go home? Sometimes compromise is not the answer. Sometimes taking what you want is the answer.”
I open my mouth to offer the same cautious excuses he has already heard before, but instead of letting me utter them again, he covers my mouth with one hand.
“No. I wasn’t done talking,” he tells me. “I don’t want to hear how hard it would be. I don’t want to hear how I could potentially let you down and ruin your life. I’ve told you again and again, I am not going to ruin your life, only change it. When are you going to start believing me?”
He uncovers my mouth so I can answer. “Our fiftieth wedding anniversary?” I suggest.
“That’s a pretty long wait. How about our first wedding anniversary?”
“Are we getting married when we’re 69?”
Carter chuckles. “No, you psycho.”
“Then that’s too fast. I don’t see how I could possibly be sure you wouldn’t ruin my life by then.”
Suddenly cocky, Carter says, “Oh, I don’t know. I think you’ll be convinced a lot sooner than you think. Like, before the new year.”
Choking on a stifled laugh, I tell him, “You know December is nearly over, right?”
“Yep. I still have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”
Now it’s my turn to cock an eyebrow. “You think you can convince me with tricks?”
“I’m pretty sure. They’re really cool tricks.”
“You are unreasonably confident.”
“Usually. But it all ends up working out,” he says.
I don’t feel like wasting my energy—or more time in the city—arguing about it, so I settle with a simple, “We’ll see.”
Carter shakes his head at me. “I can’t decide if it’s me or you that you’re so intent on underestimating.”
That brings an immediate scowl to my face. “Excuse me? I don’t underestimate myself. I’m quite confident in my own abilities, thank you very much.”
“You are,” he says with a faint nod of acknowledgement. “When it comes to certain things, absolutely. But you have these blind spots, these bizarre specks of inferiority when it comes to just a few things. You keep trying to sell yourself on this narrative that I’m not serious about you, Zoey, but it’s wrong. I am serious about you, more serious than I’ve ever been about anything else in my life.”
“It’s not that I don’t think you’re serious about me,” I deny, but I don’t expand because I’m not sure how to refute his claim.
“College is another thing. It’s like you’re afraid to set your sights above a certain level, but you should. Maybe if you did, maybe if you aimed higher, you’d land there. How do you know if you’re afraid to try?”
“I’m not afraid. I’m realistic.”
“I think you’re slapping a label on fear and calling it realism,” he tells me. “You weren’t afraid to take a gamble on me, but now that college and the future is calling, all of a sudden, you’re playing it safe.” Holding my gaze, he shakes his head. “We don’t play it safe, Ellis. We don’t turn away from what we want because it might end up hurting a little if it goes sideways. We trust each other to be there to pick up the pieces if it does. So, either you’re being a chicken shit, or you’re not trusting me. Tell me which one it is.”
I wrinkle up my nose and whack him in the stomach, not appreciating being called out on my own bullshit. “It is not being a chicken shit not to throw caution to the wind and trash my life plans so I can join you chasing yours.”
“What if mine are better?” he suggests. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your life plans are mediocre. A mediocre school, a mediocre setting. I know you’ve worked your ass off to achieve it, and maybe that was the ceiling for you before you met me, but it isn’t now. Don’t you get that? I can take you higher. You let me use you all the damn time. Use me.”
I feel like my heart is in my throat, him lecturing me this way. It’s not unheard of for him to call me out, but normally, he doesn’t need to. Normally, I’m not acting like a chicken shit.
I shake off his words and pull up my facts. “If I went to City College, it would cost me $20,000 a year more than the private school in Pennsylvania, Carter. Over the course of a bachelor’s degree, that’s a lot of money. And I don’t want to go to City College, I want to go to the one where I earned a free ride. I like the school in PA, I like the campus—”
“Like, like, like. Do you like me, or do you love me?”
Huffing, I tell him, “That’s not fair. You’re not a college.”
“You love me,” he states. “And I love you. Even aside from wanting to be with you, I want more for you than mediocrity. More than anyone else I have ever met, you deserve it.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I echo his own sentiment right back at him. “People don’t always get what they deserve, remember?”
“Not always, but in this instance, you can. Just let me give it to you.”
I should feel better about the offer I know is coming, but with him offering to help me pay for school if I go here, I have one less excuse. Clearly, whether or not I actually like the school I attend is lower on his priority list than location. “Do you want me to have regrets? You’re askin’ me to go all-in on the success of our relationship, because if I make this compromise, if I go to the school I don’t want to go to and then we break up? I will regret making this decision.”
Apparently unconcerned, Carter shakes his head. “I’m not asking you to make that kind of compromise. I’m not asking you to do anything you would regret in the unlikely event that it doesn’t work out between us.”
“But you are.”
He’s quiet for a moment, holding my gaze, then he says, “I’m
not talking about City College, Zoey.”
“That’s the only college in the city that—”
He doesn’t let me finish. He cuts me off and steals all of my words by saying, “I got you an interview at Columbia.”
Everything stops for a moment. I stare up at him, afraid to breathe. He stares down at me, awaiting a response. His words play in my head again, but I can’t entirely absorb them. They don’t make sense—the words are too incredible to be true, aren’t they? I know Carter gets shit done when he wants to, but there’s no way…
He got me an interview at Columbia?
Finally, I manage to ask, “What—what do you mean? What kind of interview?”
“An interview,” he says, meaningfully. “An admissions interview.”
My stomach drops and my head shakes of its own volition. “That’s impossible. I didn’t even apply to Columbia, and they—”
“It’s not impossible, because it’s done,” he says, not bothering to let me argue. Reaching down and tenderly pushing his fingers through my hair, he says, “I couldn’t say anything to you until I knew for sure I could pull it off because I didn’t want to risk you being disappointed, but I’ve been working on it like a pet project. Padded your resume a bit, had Kasey offer you the book reviews so you can list the school paper. Bought you all those ACT books and left you to your studying so you’d hopefully do well enough to meet their general admissions criteria. Letting you have salutatorian can’t hurt. I figured it would help if you met their standards on your own, but I’ve been talking to my Columbia contact about you, stressing that in order to perform as well as I want to for them, it would really help me if I could bring my brilliant girlfriend with me.”
Covering my face with my hands, I tell him, “You probably oversold me. They’ll meet me and be expecting Einstein with boobs.”
“Nah. They know the score. Unless you drool your way through the interview and can’t string a sentence together, they’ll make sure you get in. When there’s a student they want to let in, they search their admissions materials for reasons to justify their admission, and you have plenty.”
