“I know! Stop freaking out,” I say. “It’s going to be fine. You didn’t…finish yet. So, the likelihood is probably really small.”
“But there’s still a likelihood,” he says.
“I don’t know.” I shrug.
We sit in bed for a few moments, staring at each other. We both know that the night is over. And there was no way to recover it now. Eventually, I grab my clothes and hand Tristan his.
Later that evening, I meet up with Tristan again in the living room. He’s watching TV, but not really watching. Just flipping through the channels, looking for something to watch.
“There’s nothing good on,” he says.
“Yeah, I know,” I say.
Tristan turns off the TV and grabs a Red Bull out of the refrigerator.
“Isn’t it a little late for Red Bull?” I ask.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I have a lot of Macroeconomics to do. I think I’m going to fail that class.”
“I’m sure you won’t.”
“Can I tell you something, Alice?” he asks and continues without waiting for my answer. “I just feel a lot of pressure. I’m working these crazy hours. And I don’t have time for anything. Not for my classes. Not for you. Not even for work. You know, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do there? I mean, I look at those charts and figures and they just intimidate me. But I pretend that I know what’s going on. And that’s exhausting.”
“I can imagine,” I sympathize.
“And as for going out afterwards. I often don’t want to go. Really. I just want to come home and be with you. And study, though I don’t really want to study.”
“So why don’t you?” I ask.
“Because I hear the way they all talk about other interns who didn’t come along. And how all the full-time people mock them for skipping out. And all those people who didn’t go out with them – well, they’re not working there after graduation. Tim told me that many of them are still struggling to find work six months after finishing college.”
I nod. I want to sympathize. I want to say something that will make him feel better. But nothing comes to mind.
“Tristan, it’s your freshman year of college. You shouldn’t be working so hard. You should have some fun.”
“Alice, I’m talking to you about something serious that I’m going through and you…you just act like it’s nothing. Like what I do doesn’t matter. Don’t you know how that makes me feel?”
I shrug. “I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t want to…”
“I know. You never mean it. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve said it.”
I don’t know what’s happening here. How did all of this suddenly become my fault?
“I know you’re working hard. But maybe the internship is just too much. I mean you’re going to an Ivy League school. And it’s your freshman year. You should be able to have some fun, sometime. You’re practically entitled to it.”
“And what makes me entitled to it, exactly?” he asks.
“I don’t know. The fact that you’re 18 years old. If you’re not going to have fun now, when are you going to?”
He shrugs. Drops his shoulders. I run over the conversation in my head. I didn’t mean to get into another fight. Or maybe this is just the continuation of the last one. I don’t know anymore.
I turn around to head back to my room. Everything is still completely unresolved, but I don’t think anything will improve today. It seems to be one of those things that you have to sleep on in order to get a fresh perspective.
“The thing is that, Alice, my life is just so complicated right now,” Tristan says. I guess he wants to keep talking. “I’m torn in all of these directions,” he adds.
“I know,” I say. I come back toward him and put my hand on his shoulder. “You need to take some things off your plate. It’s too crowded.”
“And I want to,” he nods.
I look at Tristan. He looks tired, but close to saying something important. Finally, he’s going to make me a priority. That must be what this is all about. So just come on out with it. Say it.
“So you understand?” he asks.
“I think so.” I nod. “You’re going to try to get out of the internship?”
“Get out of the internship?” he asks. “You don’t really understand at all!”
“What are you talking about?”
“The internship is hard and time-consuming, but it’s also super important. I can’t believe that you still don’t get that. I mean, how many times do I have to tell you?”
I hear anger in his voice.
“Okay, okay.” I get it. “There’s no need to raise your voice. You’re just complaining about it so I thought…”
“So I complain about it. So what? You’re supposed to be supportive. You’re supposed to be understanding about it.”
I shrug. I don’t understand anything that’s going on anymore.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m a little confused with everything right now. That’s why we’re off. Why this is getting so complicated,” Tristan says.
He gestures, pointing to us. What he means is that we’re complicated. We’re off, as a couple.
“I’m confused about everything,” he says again.
“Stop saying that. I don’t know what you mean. Say what you really mean,” I say in my most insistent voice. His metaphor keeps going over my head, leaving me confused.
“I’m confused about us, Alice.”
The words hang in the air as if they are suspended on a string. I stare at him. What’s happening here?
“I think we need to take a break.”
My ears start to buzz. Tristan keeps on talking, explaining, but I don’t hear a thing. Everything turns to black.
10
I go see Dr. Greyson the next day. I want to stay in bed and never come out again, but I can’t miss the appointment or I’ll get kicked out of school. At this point, however, I can’t even imagine graduating. Nothing else happened last night after Tristan told me that he wants to take a break from us. At least not for me. Tristan kept talking, but I don’t know what he said. Eventually, I said that I had to go to bed and I haven’t seen him since.
I barely have the energy to change out of my sweats, but somehow I manage to make it to Dr. Greyson’s office, all the way across campus. I don’t know what to expect. But I also don’t stress out about it much. I’ve become a robot. Operating entirely on autopilot.
Unfortunately, there’s no line. And Dr. Greyson comes out and greets me as soon as I arrive. I take a deep breath and walk into her office. Dr. Greyson is a beautiful, no-nonsense African-American woman in her early 40s. She has gorgeous olive skin and perfectly manicured nails. Her suit looks like it’s tailored and her heels look expensive – if only Juliet was here, then she’d tell me exactly how much they cost. When she asks me to sit down, her voice reminds me of Oprah’s even though Dr. Greyson is about half her size.
Her office is decorated with photos of exotic places. Tropical islands, white sandy beaches, schools of fish swirling around corals, places that seem so far away from here they might as well be on another planet.
“You like to travel?” she asks, catching me staring at one photo with ‘Thailand’ underneath. The photo has a long, wind-swept palm tree coming down to earth and kissing the sand.
“I like your photos,” I say. “Definitely not New York, huh?”
She nods. She doesn’t say another word. It takes me a moment to realize that she’s waiting for me to answer her question.
“Yes, I do,” I finally say. “I haven’t travelled too much, though. But I really enjoy it when I do go. I hope to travel a lot more in the future.”
Somewhere warm, I continue talking in my head. Somewhere with coconut palms where you don’t need to wear layers of clothes to stay warm. I’ve never really thought of it until this very moment, but clothes insulate people. You put on these layers and they separate you from the w
orld. Make you feel as if the world isn’t right there. And other people aren’t like you. This isn’t really a complete thought yet. I don’t know what I’m thinking. It just feels like that, sitting in this office, wearing a T-shirt, a sweater, jeans, boots, a scarf, and holding my jacket on my lap. It just seems like too much right now. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be in at tank top, shorts, and flip-flops right about now!
“Professor Milner has filled me in about what happened in class,” Dr. Greyson says. Her voice shatters the silence of the room. And brings me back to reality. I had let my mind drift off a bit.
“Yeah,” I say with a nod. I don’t really know what else to say about that incident.
“He told me about why you were sent here. But now I want to hear it from you.”
“I know you’re an alcohol abuse counselor, but I don’t really drink. Not really. Not at all. I have a beer and I’m completely drunk. That’s how much of a lightweight I am.”
“I understand.” She nods.
“So I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”
“Well, you may not drink, but you did show up to class drunk and gave a drunken speech. So you are dealing with something. And I want to hear about it.”
I sigh and fill her in on the details. She listens carefully. When I’m done, she nods her head.
“So, what’s going on with your boyfriend, Tristan, now? It is all resolved?” she asks.
I shake my head, no. Not even close.
“I don’t think we’re together anymore,” I whisper. I feel tears start to build up at the back of my throat. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
I take a deep breath. And the tears suddenly dissipate without coming out. Thank God. The weepy feeling goes away. And I just feel a little dead inside.
“Something happened last night,” I say. She waits for me to continue. Not pushing me beyond the pace at which I’m comfortable. I don’t know if I have the strength to say it out loud. “The condom broke,” I whisper.
“What?” Dr. Greyson sits up in her chair. I don’t repeat it. “Alice, when did this happen?”
“Last night.”
“You need to go to the health office. You need to get the Plan B pill. It works within 72 hours.”
I nod. I don’t want to.
“I know you don’t want to deal with it right now,” she says urgently. “But you have to. You only have 72 hours. If you go to the health office, they’ll give you a prescription and you can get it filled tonight.”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “It’s probably fine. He didn’t…orgasm.”
The word feels awful in this clinical environment. But I couldn’t think of another one.
“It doesn’t matter. There’s still a chance that you might get pregnant. You have to take care of this.”
I sigh.
“Alice, if you don’t promise to take care of this, I’m going to take you to the health office myself. This is very important. Unless of course, you want to get pregnant at 18.”
I don’t. That’s the last thing I want.
“Okay, I promise.” I shrug.
I stand in line at the closest drugstore, the Duane Read a few blocks away from the dorm. Could this week get any worse? I think to myself, perusing through People magazine. All of these people dressed up in the best dresses for the Golden Globes in warm Los Angeles. Oh what I wouldn’t give to be back there. I don’t have to be at the Golden Globes, I just want to go home. Away from this place. Away from this week.
“Alice? Alice!” I hear someone calling my name. I don’t recognize the voice. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now. Shit.
When I turn around, I come face to face with Tea. And let out a sigh. Tea is one of the best people to run into.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
“Just getting some medication. You?”
“Me too. Well, not medication, but I have to pick up a few things.”
They call my name. The pharmacist gives me the box and instructs me about how to use it. I nod and pay the amount. $70! Crap. Why the hell is it so expensive? The pharmacist asks me about insurance, but I say I don’t have any. It’s a lie. I do have some but it’s through my parents’ and I don’t want them to find out.
“Oh my God, Alice,” Tea says. “I couldn’t help but overhear. Plan B. Are you okay?”
I shrug. “I’ll be fine.”
I don’t plan on telling her what happened with Tristan, but it just comes out. In the hosiery aisle of all places. Right in front of a wall of leggings!
“I can’t believe that you two broke up.” Tea shakes her head. “I’m so sorry. And now you have to deal with this on top of all that?”
I sigh. And I have to attend mandatory alcohol abuse counseling. And I still don’t know how the hell I’m going to pass my public speaking class at this point. Tea asks me if I want to have a cup of coffee next door. That sounds like a great idea.
“Hey, you know what you need?” she asks as we share a croissant. I take a sip of my coffee. “Why don’t you come to Atlantic City with us?”
“What?”
“Tanner and I are going to Atlantic City this weekend. And I’d love for you to come.”
“No, no, you guys are going on a romantic getaway…” I start to say.
“Well, it is Valentine’s Day, but it’s not like that.”
Valentine’s Day. Oh my God. That’s right! It’s this weekend. I had completely forgotten about it.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I have to go there to research something for this book I’m writing. Tanner is coming along. It’s too soon for us to go on a weekend trip. So actually, you’ll be doing me a favor if you come.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t want to be a third wheel. And I’m sure that Tanner wants some romantic time with you on Valentine’s Day.”
“Okay, well, then invite some people. I’d love to have extra people there.”
“Tea, what’s wrong? Are you not that into Tanner?”
She sighs. “No, I am. I’m just…I don’t really want to go away for a weekend with him. I’m not ready to sleep with him yet.”
“Oh,” I say. “Oh, I see. And if you two go away together, share a hotel room…then you think…”
“Exactly,” she says. “So you’re really going to be doing me a favor. And invite your roommates too. The more, the merrier. Juliet. Dylan. Maybe not Tristan.”
“Ha, yeah, probably not Tristan.” I smile. “I guess a trip away from here does sound nice.”
“Excellent, then it’s decided!” She grins from ear to ear.
“So tell me about this book. That’s exciting!” I say. “Was it what you were working on before? About Belize?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s a completely different story. It’s actually a romance novel.”
“Really? Wow.”
“I know. I never thought I’d write one. But then I read a few and they’re really exciting and passionate. And I just wanted to try my hand at it.”
“So what’s it about?” I ask.
“I’m not entirely set on the name yet,” Tea says. “It’s either going to be called A Weeklong Fiancé or Fiancé for a Week.”
“Hmm, I’m intrigued.”
“It’s about this normal girl. She’s a copywriter at an online magazine. Just graduated from college. She has an apartment, a roommate and an unhealthy obsession with chocolate and shoes.”
“Well, who doesn’t, right?” I say with a wink.
“She’s drowning in student loans, has no idea how she’s going to pay them off. And then she gets an offer that’s too good to pass up. Take a weeklong cruise to the Caribbean with a dashing, rich stranger and pretend to be his fiancé at his family reunion. For $10,000. No sex. Business only.”
“Wow, seems like most girls would do it for way less than that.”
“That’s what she thinks. But then she starts to fall in love with him,” Tea says.
“I love it!” I say. And I do. Really.
“So this trip to Atlantic City is a little bit of a research trip. I’ve never been to a casino before and I want to get a taste of what it’s like. What it looks like, etc.”
“I get it.” I nod. “And I’d love to read your book when you’re done.”
“You’ll be the first.”
11
There was no way I was going to go on this trip without at least Juliet. And I was excited when Dylan decided to come along too. They don’t know Tea very well, and none of us have ever met Tanner, but they were down for a fun weekend. When I first told Dylan about this, he invited Tristan as well, but luckily for me Tristan said that he had too much work to do. Peyton was invited too, and she was planning on coming along, until she remembered that she had a big paper due on Monday.
Juliet, Dylan and I share an Uber to Grand Central Station. Juliet and I over packed a little and we’re laden down with bags that wouldn’t fit in the trunk.
“Why did you two have to pack so much?” Dylan asks. He only packed one small suitcase, the size of a carryon. “It’s just two nights.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Juliet rolls her eyes.
“Just pack a couple of outfits and that should be enough,” Dylan insists.
“And what happens when you don’t feel like wearing one? Or it’s inappropriate to wear it? No, you have to have backups.”
I didn’t pack as much as Juliet, but I definitely took too much. There seems to always be shirts and pants that you think you might wear, that you almost should wear, but for some reason never do.
“So what’s going on with you and Tristan?” Dylan turns to me.
Juliet makes a face at him as if to ask why the hell he’s bringing him up.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It just seems that something’s off, but Tristan didn’t tell me what exactly.”
I shrug.
Tristan and I haven’t spoken much since that night. Though he did corner me by the bathroom this morning and insisted on talking.
“Alice, I just want you to know that I don’t want to break up,” he said. “That’s the last thing I want.”
Auctioned to Him Book 8 Page 126
