Psych Major Syndrome

by Alicia Thompson

  When I returned a few minutes later, holding an old pair of cotton pajamas, the window was open and Nathan was nowhere to be seen. I set the pajamas on the bed and leaned out the window.

  He was sitting on the roof, his arms linked around his knees. “You’re right about the stars,” he said. “I don’t think you get this effect staring through a telescope, although of course that’s breathtaking in its own way.” He looked at me, inclining his head. “Come on, join me.”

  I climbed out the window, years of memories passing with me as I sat cross-legged on the roof. We sat for what felt like an eternity just like that, with no words, as though somehow they would ruin the magic of the night.

  But then the question just tripped out of my lips, and I couldn’t stop it. “Do you think Andrew loved me?”

  I could feel Nathan’s eyes on me, but I kept my gaze trained on the sky, not wanting to see an answer in his face that contradicted the one from his lips. “I think he did,” Nathan said finally. His voice sounded sad. “In his own selfish way, I think he did.”

  Somehow, I believed him, and his words eased some deep part of me I hadn’t even recognized as hurting. “I hope so,” I said. “Because he never said it first—he would only ever say ‘I love you, too.’ And I would hate to think that he was talking about the band U2 the whole time, you know?”

  Nathan laughed, a low chuckle that vibrated in my bones, and like every other time I’d made him laugh, it felt like an achievement. “Hey, Nathan?”

  The laugh died on his lips and in his eyes, and was replaced with a look that reminded me somehow of that night at the bonfire. “Yeah?” he said.

  “I’m sorry I called you self-righteous.”

  He looked away then, and it was a long time before he spoke. “That’s all right,” he said.

  The next day I decided to take Nathan to C’est La Vie for breakfast, since it was one of my absolute favorite things about Sedona and one of the few places that stayed open for at least part of Thanksgiving Day. Also, I knew that if we stayed home, my mom would just ask more questions and my dad would want to show him the various healing gems and stones we had in the front. I have a whole bunch of them mixed up with rocks I got at a science museum, and I can’t tell the difference.

  I hadn’t slept that well the night before, which I blamed on sleeping on the floor. It couldn’t have been Nathan, since it wasn’t like I hadn’t slept in the same room with him before. Technically I fell asleep that night I used his room to work on my paper, listening to his soft snore in the bed right behind me. So this was no different.

  Except that it was, somehow, and I couldn’t pinpoint why. Sure, we’d spent a lot of time together in the last twenty-four hours, and we’d had a few pretty intense conversations. But he was still Nathan, the math major who draws cats and had had a front row seat at some of my all-time most cringeworthy moments. So I decided that today, we were just going to have fun, without thinking about school or Andrew or anything else.

  “Get pineapple cream cheese with your bagel,” I suggested as we stood in line at the café. “Seriously, you won’t be sorry. It sounds weird, but it’s delicious.”

  “Why don’t I just try some of yours?” he said. “I’m not much of a risk taker.”

  “Sure you are,” I said. “You drove all the way out to Arizona to stay with a crazy, New Age family, didn’t you? And you risked life and limb by having an aura photo taken. I mean, who knew what it might have revealed?”

  “That’s true,” he said. “And I did take my life into my hands by eating that BLT.…”

  I turned, and just at that moment, Andrew walked into the café with Heather hanging on his arm. If David Beckham had walked in, I couldn’t have been more surprised. “Oh my God.”

  “Sorry,” Nathan said. “I know that’s a painful memory. And really, you deserve all the credit for eating that thing.”

  “No…” I said, but there was no time to explain. Heather was pointing in our direction, and they were heading toward us.

  “What?”

  “Andrew’s here,” I hissed. “With Heather.”

  My last thought was that I really should’ve washed my face that morning, and maybe put some vitamin E cream under my eyes to hide the circles. But then there was no more time to think, because Andrew and Heather came to stand right behind us in line.

  “Leigh,” Andrew said, inclining his head. Then, a little less politely, “Nathan? Why are you here?”

  “Because I want to be,” Nathan said. Although I couldn’t see him, I could imagine him looking at Andrew with that cold green stare I used to think was directed at me. At least, I hoped it was directed at Andrew now, and not me.

  I was going to be cool. I’d made it through our last encounter without bursting in tears or having a full-fledged freak-out, so it shouldn’t be hard to make civil small talk as we waited for our bagels and mochas. “What are you doing here?” I asked, a shrill edge to my voice.

  Whatever. Being cool is totally overrated.

  “We’re getting breakfast,” Heather chirped, rubbing her hand on Andrew’s chest. They had been together less than a month, and already they were acting more like a couple than Andrew and I ever had. Maybe that should’ve opened my eyes, or made me realize something, but instead it just made me bitter.

  “I meant, what are you doing putting miles on your precious BMW and getting behind in your reading?” I asked. “Oh, and coming to a town you ‘could care less about.’ FYI, Andrew, it’s couldn’t care less.”

  “Come on, Leigh,” he said. “You know it would’ve been awkward to drive out here together. How was I to know I’d run into you?”

  Nathan cleared his throat, but I ignored him. “If only my craving for pineapple cream cheese hadn’t foiled your perfect plan,” I said sarcastically.

  “You still eat that stuff?”

  He was not allowed to do that. He was not allowed to bring another girl to my hometown, to my café, and then make some comment about my cream cheese choice like we had all this history together. I mean, we did. But history was not going to repeat itself.

  Nathan cleared his throat again, and I spun to face him. “What?”

  “Can I take your order?” a hassled-looking teenager asked from behind the counter, and Nathan raised his eyebrow at me.

  “Um, just a bagel with pineapple cream cheese and a medium mocha,” I said. “And he’ll have…”

  “I already ordered,” Nathan said.

  “Perfect,” I muttered, digging through my purse, but Nathan shook his head and put a ten-dollar bill on the counter.

  The clerk opened the register and started counting out change, dropping it into Nathan’s outstretched hand.

  “So, I see your ride situation worked out,” Andrew said from behind me.

  “Couldn’t have been better,” I said. “Good thing some people aren’t so hung up on themselves that they can’t be bothered to help anyone else. When I called Nathan, he was more than happy to drive me to Arizona.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Leigh, can I talk to you?” Nathan said, tugging on my arm. Reluctantly, I followed, leaving Heather and the clerk wearing twin expressions of What the hell is her problem? Andrew looked unruffled, as usual. But then, he knew what my problem was.

  “What are you doing?” Nathan asked once we were alone, on the other side of the café.

  “What?” I asked. “Okay, of course I’m going to pay you back for breakfast. I was just distracted, that’s all.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly. “I mean, what are you doing, letting him get to you like this?”

  I let out my breath in one long puff. I knew I was handling this all wrong, that I should be calm and distant, like the past year never happened. But it had. Andrew had kissed me and told me he loved me (kind of) and held my hand. Andrew brought me soft foods when I had my wisdom teeth taken out, for crying out loud. And then he dumped me, because suddenly I wasn’t willing to shift our r
elationship to the next gear, when I hadn’t known until the week before that he’d even noticed what gear it was in.

  “I know,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “I just can’t believe he would tell me he wasn’t coming home when he was. I can’t believe he—” I broke off, before I said something I’d regret. “Anyway. You must know how I’m feeling. You dated Heather, after all.”

  “One date,” he said. “And this isn’t about Heather. I couldn’t care less about Heather.”

  I smiled—faintly, but at least it was a smile. “You used it correctly.”

  “Of course,” he said. “After all, if you could care less about something, it means that you care about it at least a little bit. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well, right now, I couldn’t care less about Andrew or Heather,” he said. “You know what I do care about?”

  “What?” I looked up at him, realizing how crazy it was that he looked so familiar now. If he came to a stargazing session, there was no way that I’d forget. And I wouldn’t avoid him, either.

  He grinned. “Breakfast.”

  I let out my breath. “Typical,” I said, smiling. “Well, while you’re eating your boring plain bagel with regular cream cheese, just don’t come crying to me for my pineapple. You had your chance.”

  We headed back toward the counter to pick up our bagels, passing Andrew and Heather as we did so. I thought about saying something else, but at the last minute I just asked for our bagels to go. It was dumb, I know, but I couldn’t help thinking that the problem was that I could care less about Andrew. And there was only so much pretending I could do otherwise.

  WISH FULFILLMENT: In Freud’s dream analysis, this occurs in the latent dream and represents the sleeper’s hidden desires.

  THANKSGIVING dinner at my house was always interesting. For one thing, there was no turkey, or any meat at all, for that matter. This year we were having the traditional twice-baked squash and rice and mushroom stuffing with yeast gravy, but we were also having Tofurky-hummus sandwiches on pita bread that my mother was cutting into turkey shapes with a cookie cutter. Or at least, they were supposed to be turkey shapes. They came out looking more like Rorschach blobs. I helped her carry the spread to the table, where my dad, Nathan, and a family of three waited.

  The family looked pretty put off by the sandwiches, but I say that’s what you get for spending Thanksgiving at a psychic bed-and-breakfast in Sedona. They should have been glad they were getting anything, since it was almost four o’clock in the afternoon and way past the time for breakfast. The ten-year-old boy—I’d heard the father yelling at him to put down Sextrology, a book my mother had left lying out on the coffee table, so I knew his name was Kyle—dug right in. But the parents looked a little more skeptical.

  I figured, if you can be open-minded about a woman with one of the worst Russian accents I’ve ever heard reading your fortune from tea leaves, a couple of hummus sandwiches shouldn’t faze you. But that’s just me.

  “These are delicious,” Nathan said. “Thank you.”

  My mother beamed. “Mama’s recipe,” she said.

  Nathan took another bite and winked at me, confirming my suspicion that he was just being polite. I hid a grin behind my own sandwich.

  “You have a beautiful daughter,” Kyle’s mother said, and one of those looks passed between them that mothers share sometimes, where it’s like, Isn’t the miracle of life wonderful?

  “Tuesday is our joy,” my mom said.

  My father piped up through a mouthful of potatoes, “She’s in college, studying psychology.”

  I heard an actual note of pride in his voice, and I felt a little touched in spite of myself. Maybe it was just because I’d been so emotional lately, or maybe it was just that I’d always assumed my parents were a little disappointed in my choice of study.

  “Beautiful and smart,” Kyle’s mother said, smiling at me before turning her smile to Nathan. “And with such a nice boy!”

  Okay, this was getting obnoxious. “I’m not with him,” I said.

  My mother waved her fork, a bit of cranberry sauce slipping from it back to her plate. “It’s only a matter of time,” she said. “Tuesday just got out of a relationship with another boy, one with a bad aura. This one is much better.”

  My fork clattered to my plate, my eyes swinging to Nathan. He’d told—after laughing with me on the roof, after the moment of understanding I’d thought we shared at C’est La Vie—he’d been talking behind my back. To my mother. And he didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. I felt betrayal rise up in my throat.

  “You’re an asshole,” I said, tossing my napkin on the table.

  The chair scraped on the wood floor as I stood abruptly, everyone at the table looking at me with an expression of speechless horror. I could tell Kyle’s mom was adding psycho to her list of my attributes, and even ten-year-old Kyle, who had giggled over Sextrology, was looking at me like I was a freak. Nathan’s fork was suspended in midair, his face a mixture of confusion and concern that only further fueled my anger.

  I spun on my heel and left, slamming the front door behind me with a force that made the bells jangle wildly. I knew I was acting like a bit of a jerk myself, but I didn’t care. Why would Nathan do that? Did he think he was doing me a favor, telling my parents about Andrew, when I wasn’t even sure I wanted them to know yet?

  I felt restless and upset, but once out of the house, I just plopped down on the front steps, running out of steam. I heard the front door open behind me, and I wasn’t surprised when Nathan sat down next to me. If I expected an apology from him, though, it didn’t appear that one was forthcoming.

  “Why was it so important that your parents not know?” he asked.

  He didn’t even deny what he’d done, which I guess was noble in its own way, but it just made me madder. “Because,” I muttered.

  “Because why?” he said, sounding a little angry himself now. “Because you two are going to get back together, and you don’t want to have to admit that you broke up in the first place?”

  Tears pricked at the back of my eyes, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. How could he be so cruel?

  He sighed, a heavy exhale of frustration. “I didn’t tell your mother anything,” he said. “Give her a little credit. She’s a perceptive woman.”

  “Why, because she’s psychic?” I sneered.

  “No, not because she’s psychic,” Nathan shot back. “Because she’s got eyes. You wear your breakup like a Girl Scout badge. At first I tried to tiptoe around it, knowing that it was still pretty fresh and you must be hurting. And even when we ran into Andrew today and you’re obviously not over him, I figured you just needed time. But Jesus, Leigh, you can be so blind.”

  I was crying full force now, but what else was new? It seemed like I was always crying. Deep down, I knew that what Nathan was saying had some merit, that I had chosen to cling to my sadness rather than face the truth. But that didn’t make it any nicer to hear.

  “You always hated me,” I whispered. “And who can blame you? I’m a stupid emotional wreck.” Never was that truer than at this very moment.

  “Andrew’s the stupid one,” Nathan said, his voice bitter. “And surely you must know I never hated you. Far from it.”

  I gave an undignified sniffle. “But you were always so…disapproving.”

  Nathan laughed with little real humor. “Maybe that’s because I was,” he said. “I disapproved of the way Andrew treated you. And I really disapproved of the way I felt about you. You were my roommate’s high school sweetheart, and even now, when you’re crying over him, I just…”

  I felt like I was standing on the precipice, and my decision to jump or not was the most important one I could make in my life. “What?” I whispered.

  He looked at me, and his eyes were very, very serious. “I just want to kiss you,” he said.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you,” he said, giving me a wry smile. “I gave you
my number half expecting you would never call, and so when you did…why do you think I was so gung ho about driving all the way out here? I wanted to spend time with you.”

  I stared at him, wide-eyed. Nathan wanted to spend time with me? He wanted to kiss me? Of its own accord, my gaze dropped to his lips. I wondered what it would be like if he actually kissed me—would it be like my dream?

  “Okay,” I said.

  His brow furrowed. “Okay what?”

  I licked my lips. “Kiss me,” I said.

  His eyes searched mine. “Are you serious?”

  I edged closer to him on the step, hesitating only slightly before putting my hand on his arm. We were only partially protected by shade, and his skin beneath my hand was warm from the sun. “I thought you said you wanted to,” I said.

  Nathan glanced down at my hand, and I wondered if I’d been too bold. But then he spoke, and I could tell from the husky edge to his voice that he wasn’t totally unaffected. “Believe me,” he said, “I want to. But I can’t just kiss you if it doesn’t mean something.”

  I didn’t know what it would mean. All I knew was that I wanted this, too, and had for a while, whether I’d wanted to admit it or not. Since that moment in the diner where he took my hand, and I felt that spark between us. Maybe even since that dream I’d had, I don’t know…maybe even longer.

  Instead of answering him in words, I leaned forward, my lips brushing against his, lingering only for a moment before I pulled back.

  He’d closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they were a dark green, almost black. I could see the war within them, but then his hands came up to cup my face, and I felt a wave of triumph as he pulled me closer, slanting his mouth over mine.

  It was just like my dream, except we were on my parents’ porch instead of a beach, I was wearing an old tank top and jeans instead of a gauzy skirt, and we were sitting instead of standing.

  Oh, and it felt ten times better.

  It should have felt weird, kissing Nathan like this after all that had happened. But it didn’t. It felt the way it had in the dream, really right somehow. That fluttery feeling was there, in my stomach, as Nathan’s hands cradled my face, drying the wet tracks of my now-forgotten tears. But whereas in the dream I was mostly passive, now I actively wanted more. I buried my hands in his thick hair, deepening the kiss.