Our Year in Love and Parties

by Karen Hattrup

The College Party

  23

  Tucker

  Tucker was watching Bobby furiously write a message, his thumbs flying, his eyebrows scrunched together as he leaned on his locker. He was going through a complicated cycle—writing, waiting, sighing. Writing again.

  “Who are you texting?”

  Bobby’s eyes flashed up and then back down.

  “Skylar.”

  Tucker nodded and kept pulling things out of his locker, while still looking sideways at Bobby.

  “So Destiny seriously doesn’t care that you still text Skylar that much? I’m not being a dick, I’m just curious.”

  “She doesn’t care. She knows we’re only friends.”

  “Do you ever wake up in the morning and get blown away by the fact that you’re dating Destiny Lewis?”

  Bobby dropped his phone to his side and looked at Tucker. “You realize how insulting that sounded, right?”

  Tucker laughed, hitching up his backpack. “I didn’t mean it like that! But seriously, aren’t you glad you almost ran her over in the parking lot that day?”

  “That was completely your fault. You wouldn’t stop talking. It’s impossible to drive with you.”

  “But look how well it worked out. Because of me. I’m a key part of your love story.”

  “Don’t remind me. Listening to the two of you together is exhausting.”

  “Destiny and I have a special bond!” Tucker said. “She gives me good advice, I ignore it, and then she gets to point out how she was right.”

  Bobby got sucked into another endless text message exchange before he could respond. As Tucker waited, he took in how Bobby’s hair was longer than usual, how he was wearing new sneakers. Bobby looked cool in a way that he never had before.

  When Bobby was done, he pointed at Tucker. “For the record? If anyone has a texting problem, it’s definitely you.”

  “Am I even looking at my phone right now? Clearly, I’m not.”

  Technically that was true, but the only reason Tucker wasn’t checking for messages was because he happened to know that Friday afternoons were when Erika saw the school therapist, so there was no chance of her writing to him right now anyway. He’d promised to check in once he was on the road, on the way to St. B’s.

  This weekend, Destiny was visiting her sister at Spelman, and Tucker had convinced Bobby to go with him to visit Erika.

  Bobby made a big show of putting his phone away too, and then he was smirking.

  “Destiny made me promise I’d say this: girls don’t like big, dramatic gestures on the quad. Those are creepy. You should just tell her how you feel.”

  Tucker scowled at him. “No offense, but I’m definitely not eating lunch with you two anymore. I’ve explained a million times that Erika and I are friends.”

  . . . at least for now.

  Somehow, a couple texts the day after the Christmas party had turned into a winter break ritual of ice cream and video games at his house or HGTV and pizza at hers. All of it had been very chaste, no pillow fights. But they’d talked a lot; he’d told her what was going on with his dad. Then she’d left, and they’d spent the last couple months texting constantly—about stupid, little things all day, and big, important things during sleepless nights.

  In the middle of it all, Tucker’s dad had taken a turn.

  There was no reason for him to be at the clinic anymore, so he’d moved back to the farm, to Grandma Ruth’s house, to wait things out with the help of a hospice worker. They’d sold some of the land to pay for that, because the doctors were saying he had about nine more months, maybe more, maybe less.

  Tucker hadn’t seen his dad in weeks, so he’d hatched this plan to visit Erika and his dad in one trip, and then had never followed up on the second part. Tucker was so relieved to be away from his dad—he didn’t have the will to reach out. So now this weekend was all about Tucker and Erika.

  “Just friends,” Bobby said. “Got it. Whatever you say. Let’s talk again at the end of this weekend. See what your story is then.”

  Tucker ignored that, and said that they should hit the road. He and Bobby were about to head to the parking lot when somebody called to them.

  “You guys going to Adam’s tonight?”

  It was Yrma, and she was with Nina and Kara. Tucker and Bobby walked over to stand with them, kids streaming around their little cluster, headed for the bus, their cars, the practice fields.

  “Actually, no,” Tucker said. “We’re going to St. B’s, to visit Erika.”

  The girls nodded and smiled, telling them to have fun. Nina was only half listening, too busy laughing while she texted. Probably she was talking to her boyfriend—that new kid, Theo.

  “Too bad you guys won’t be there,” Yrma said. “I was thinking we could drink in the tree house again, tell more stories to embarrass Nina.”

  Nina kicked her without looking up from her phone, while Tucker laughed and said they’d have to do it some other time. As everybody was starting to drift away, Bobby put up his hand. He was fighting a smile.

  “Wait, wait. I’ll give you one for the road. About the first time I saw Nina.”

  None of the girls moved. Then Nina smiled cautiously.

  “Freshman year, you were showing this really sad girl around—giving her a tour of the school, in Spanish. She was crying really hard, and you were being so nice to her.”

  There was a loaded pause, and then the girls completely freaked out. Yrma turned and started to walk away. Nina covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head. Kara leaned into the nearest locker, head resting on her forearm like it was all too much.

  “What?” Bobby asked. “What’d I say?”

  He looked to Tucker for help, but Tucker had no idea what was happening. Then Yrma turned sharply on her heel and came back to them.

  “THAT WAS ME, BOBBY. The really sad girl was me. That’s how I met Nina. I had just moved here from El Salvador.”

  Bobby was adamantly shaking his head.

  “Nope. Don’t believe it. There’s no way you ever cried at school.”

  Yrma did her best to look mad while Bobby kept voicing his doubts, and then he was joking with her, apologizing while she forgave him. Nina watched Bobby the whole time, and when everything had subsided, she leaned toward him.

  “Did you hear from Maryland yet?”

  “No, not yet. You?”

  “No.”

  Standing on the sidelines of it all, Tucker was struck by a feeling that Bobby was going to be fine when he got to college. Totally fine.

  As for himself, Tucker still wasn’t sure. He worried that Michigan was too big and too far away. He worried that his roommate would be some bro and they’d hate each other. He worried that he’d end up having sex again when he maybe still wasn’t ready for it . . .

  Tucker hated worrying so much, when it seemed like everybody else couldn’t wait to finish senior year. He wanted some way to quiet all this college anxiety for good, and he was looking at this weekend like kind of a test run, a way to prove to himself that he would be okay in the fall, that he was ready. Trying to have a mature conversation with Erika about what was going on with them—that was part of it. He wanted to feel like he was moving toward next year with a clear head.

  As for his dad—he had time to deal with that.

  Tucker and Bobby were quiet as they left through the big double doors, spilling out with the crowd of kids, weaving their way to Tucker’s mom’s car. It always took forever to get out of the parking lot with everybody leaving at once, so Tucker didn’t try to rush. He settled in and turned on the music, loading the directions in his phone.

  When he finally spoke again, he tried to keep his voice neutral.

  “That would be cool. If you and Nina both went to Maryland.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You know I love Destiny, but she’s probably going to end up in Atlanta like her sister, right? I’m thinking there’s a long game here . . .”

  “Seriously shu
t up and give me your phone. Your mom made me swear I would hold it and not let you text while you were driving. She doesn’t trust that app.”

  Tucker laughed and handed the phone over. Bobby started to put it away, but then it beeped.

  “Um, you have a weird text from Frank?”

  “What does it say?”

  “It says: I got nervous that you might need some gum, so I put some gum in your backpack. I didn’t get a chance to ask your mom first, but I’ll definitely have to tell her, so that should be interesting.”

  Tucker and Bobby stared at each other, and then Tucker grabbed his backpack from the seat behind him. He dug around until he found a plastic bag from CVS. He opened it, then blinked several times at the box of condoms.

  He showed it to Bobby.

  “Frank is such a stud,” Bobby said.

  “Never say that again.”

  Bobby couldn’t stop laughing, and Tucker was trying to laugh, too, but really he was thinking that even Frank expected more of him than he could deliver.

  Taking a deep breath, Tucker did his best to ready himself for the road ahead.

  24

  Erika

  “I owe you big for this,” Erika said. “So big.”

  “You owe me?” Salma asked. “I’m getting free coffee, free pastries, and free drama. You owe me nothing.”

  “Oh my god, there’s not going to be drama. This is probably going to be boring as hell.”

  “Chem classes are boring as hell. Listening to you and my boyfriend talk about Game of Thrones is boring as hell. Sitting next to you when you meet your dad’s pregnant fiancée for the first time is the opposite of boring as hell.”

  Erika sank down in the booth, looking nervously around, as if she could have somehow missed her dad walking in with a woman who was ready to pop.

  “I can’t believe they’re driving out here to sit in a stupid coffee shop,” Erika said.

  “Well, you’re the one who told them dinner was off the table.”

  “Tucker is going to be here by dinner. I don’t need those worlds colliding.”

  She looked over at Salma, who had a wicked smile on her face.

  “I hate you,” Erika said.

  “Can I see his picture again?”

  “NO! I told you, it’s not like that.”

  “Then why do you seem all weird and nervous?”

  Erika drummed her fingers and didn’t know how to answer. Last week, when he’d asked about coming, she’d said yes right away. She was dying to see him. She wanted to show him how happy she was, how she was finally building a nice life here at school. And she wanted to support him, while he dealt with all that was going on with his dad.

  And maybe he needed her to hold him. Maybe other things would happen if she did.

  That idea still made Erika nervous, because of how much she liked him and how vulnerable that made her feel. She told Salma pretty much everything these days, but when she tried to talk about her feelings for Tucker, the words got trapped in her throat.

  What if this weekend didn’t go well? Better to fail in privacy, not have all of her friends cooing over her, asking if she was okay.

  “To be clear,” Salma said, her voice suspicious, “when he meets Jacob, you think that will be cool?”

  Erika started gnawing on her thumbnail, inwardly cursing Salma for bringing up the one thing Erika did not want to think about.

  “I told Jacob I was busy, because I had friends visiting. I’m not going to see him.”

  Salma paused. “That’s . . . quite interesting.”

  “Jacob and I are not a couple. We’ve been very explicit about that. He’s graduating in May, so we’re not anything serious. You know that.”

  “But he has a pet name for you.”

  “Oscar the Grouch is not a pet name! It’s just . . . an apt description.”

  “I thought he made a point of telling you that he’s not hooking up with anyone else?”

  Indeed he had, a couple weeks ago. And Erika had casually added that she wasn’t either.

  As she was starting to feel particularly grumpy and undercaffeinated—her thumb chewed down to the quick—the bell on the door jingled. In came her dad and Jennifer. He had his polo tucked into his jeans, and she was in a dress with leggings and boots, her stomach an enormous arch, her big, curly hair shining. Erika watched her gaze scuttle nervously around, but her dad spotted her first, waving curtly, businesslike. Jennifer finally saw her then, and her eyes went wide and a little wet, and oh my god.

  The woman was terrified. Absolutely terrified.

  She shuffled Erika’s way and was smiling so big, the corners of her mouth twitching. Erika stood up, feeling overly formal as she did, and Jennifer came right for her and wrapped her in a hug, the baby straining there between them.

  “Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Oh, gosh. You must have much better things to do on a Friday.”

  Jennifer seemed to be breathing heavily, but maybe that was a normal pregnant thing.

  “I’m so sorry,” she added.

  Theoretically those words referred to being a buzzkill, but they seemed a little too heavy for just that, the way she’d said them. Erika and Jennifer hadn’t let go of each other yet, and Jesus, it didn’t take much—did it? Erika went completely soft. She kind of wanted to tell her dad to fuck off, and Jennifer could hang out with her and Salma.

  Instead she hugged Jennifer’s shoulders a little tighter. She thought about telling her that no one around here parties this early anyway, but there was zero chance of her saying that in front of her dad. Zero.

  “It’s fine,” Erika said, more stiffly than she wanted. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Jennifer let her go, and her dad came in for a briefer hug. Was he nervous, too? He seemed a little nervous. He mumbled you look good, you look good in a casual way, but his eyes were casing the room suspiciously. As he did, Erika remembered that the last couple times they’d gotten together in DC, she’d picked weird hipster places to make him uncomfortable, and now she felt mortified.

  I’m not a brat anymore. I’m not a screw-up. I’m a college student with good grades and nice friends, and I’m in charge of a whole floor full of girls.

  She introduced them to Salma, and then her dad was asking what everyone wanted and heading to the counter to order. Jennifer carefully lowered herself into her chair, staring at the girls perched across from her in the booth.

  “Whew, I feel like such a mess. Can you believe I’m teaching high schoolers about contraception and STDs while I look like this? Yikes! Although in a weird way, it might be helping? I swear the girls look increasingly terrified, the bigger I get.”

  Okay, that was actually kind of hilarious, but Erika could barely manage a smile because she was still feeling too awkward, too uptight. Luckily, Salma did her duty and came to the rescue.

  “That dress is from Target, right? I accidentally took it to the dressing room the other day. I didn’t realize it was from the maternity section. It’s really cute.”

  Jennifer laughed then, and—thank god—no longer looked like she was going to cry. She started talking about Target, Salma chiming in, while Erika sat there tensely. Why aren’t you talking? Erika liked Target. Who didn’t like Target? It was the world’s best neutral ground. The last time she was there, though, she’d bought lip gloss and underwear and tampons, and every single one of those things seemed suddenly obscene and unspeakable, which she knew was ridiculous.

  An incoming text beeped on Erika’s phone, and she nervously checked it, afraid that somehow Tucker was already here, but no. It was Jacob, sending her some silly meme.

  “Everything okay?” Salma asked.

  Erika jumped a little, then said it was nothing, putting her phone back in her pocket and doing her best to tune back into the conversation without staring at Jennifer’s stomach. Meanwhile, Salma—blessed, perfect Salma—was asking about baby names now.

  “We haven’t really told anyone, what names we’
re thinking. Paul doesn’t want to because he says it’s nobody’s business, but I’m actually too afraid to say them out loud until the baby is, you know. Here and healthy. I know that sounds stupid and superstitious.”

  But it didn’t, not to Erika. She thought it sounded perfectly sane. Despite historical evidence to the contrary, I am a cautious creature, Jennifer. I completely understand.

  Jennifer drummed her fingers on the table. “I’m almost forty, so the risks are a little higher . . . I don’t know why I’m talking about this, sorry! Anyway, I would tell you about the names, if you wanted to know. Of course I would tell you.”

  Jennifer was looking right at Erika, who swallowed and glanced anxiously around. Where was the goddamn coffee?

  “Oh, no worries,” she finally said. “You don’t have to.”

  Erika didn’t want to put any pressure on her—that’s why she’d said that—but it came out like she didn’t care. Now Jennifer was nodding too much and Erika’s dad was back and complaining about something he’d ordered, and why, why, why was Erika doing this again? Why did she think this was worth a try?

  Because Tucker had convinced her that it was. She’d asked him if she should agree to this, and he’d said of course.

  You would be a great big sister.

  She’d wanted so badly to believe that was true.

  Salma diligently continued to fill the air with chatter, talking now about Will, how long they’d been together. Jennifer looked over at Erika and smiled.

  “Are you seeing anybody?” she asked.

  Erika shook her head, not daring to look at her dad’s face, turning her eyes down to her mug instead. Chugging her coffee, she let her eyes drift to the clock in the corner, counting the hours until Tucker would be here.

  25

  Tucker

  Tucker’s entire being shifted into a new gear the moment they stepped on campus. It was mild for early March, a tease of spring in the air, and everything was how he’d pictured it, exactly like it looked from Erika’s Instagram. Green expanse and stately brick. All these kids deep in conversation as they walked to who knows where. Tucker couldn’t quite see the Bay, but he could smell it—brackish and choppy, full of crabs and jellyfish.