by Adi Alsaid
“Let’s skip class,” Julia said, pausing at the entrance to the hallway. “I can’t go through those doors.”
“I don’t know, Jules.”
“I promise to not bring up Marroney’s erection ever again.” She bumped him with her shoulder, suddenly desperate at the thought of going to class, of staying in a room, staring at all those home-printed quotations about knowledge on the wall, the same ones she’d reread millions of times throughout the year. “Come on, let’s do something.”
Dave’s eyes flicked ahead, as if his desperation lay in the exact opposite direction. “I feel like I’ve been slacking in class, and finals are coming up.”
“I can’t do it, Dave. I can’t sit in a classroom right now. My life can’t handle it; I’ll explode.”
“How about after school?”
“Nope.” Julia reached in her bag and found her car keys. She started to turn away, sure that Dave would follow. He’d always followed. She even made a big gesture of jangling the keys, motioning with her head toward the parking lot, the entire world outside of school that was waiting for them. “Right now. You, me, adventure. Erections optional.”
Dave stood frozen, his eyes downcast. “I don’t want my grades to drop too much, Jules. UCLA can pull my scholarship.”
“They’re not gonna drop, Dave.” She took a few steps back toward him. A group of girls sneered at them as they walked by and though Julia had no idea who they were, she had that sudden rush of guilt that had been seizing her lately, that I-broke-up-Dave-and-Gretchen guilt. “Come on. Your grades are fine.” She put a hand on his side and pulled herself to him, raising up on her toes to kiss him gently. “Your girlfriend wants to do stuff with you.”
The second bell rang out, and the sound of doors shutting echoed down the hallway. Dave attempted a smile, but his eyes went over her shoulder, toward the one place she wanted to get away from. “I’m sorry. I think we have a quiz today.” Now he initiated a kiss, but it had the distinct taste of a kiss good-bye.
Before, when Julia had dreamed about love, this is what it looked like:
Like two sprinters making their way around a track. Spurts of energy followed by collapsing into a heap on the ground. Sweaty arms laid across chests, big, gulping breaths of air. Love traveled, it ran, it covered ground, eager to see more, do more. It was two people keeping pace with each other.
OFF
DAVE SAT WITH Julia in homeroom, connected to her by the white cord of Julia’s earphones. They hadn’t said anything yet, though they’d smiled hello at each other, noticed the matching circles beneath their eyes. Dave was looking at the calendar on the wall, trying to recall exactly when things had happened. The day they’d found the Nevers, the hair dying fiasco, Julia’s slam poem. It had felt like ages had gone by, but it had only been a matter of weeks.
Without warning, the Jell-O feeling had returned. Maybe because they’d crossed off almost all the Nevers. It was only 8:06 in the morning and there were six hours left watching that clock and silently begging teachers not to make him do too much. The second hand came into focus, and it moved glacially. There were still four weeks of school left, and the way it was going he had no idea if his life could handle that. Fourteen years of schooling, and the weight of every single day was suddenly compressed into this one homeroom period. He looked over at Julia, who was breathing softly, eyes closed. There was something keeping him from going over and unburdening the desperation with her, the way he’d always done. He didn’t know how to behave around her at school anymore, like there was some sort of fuzz between the two of them that kept things from being exactly how they always had been.
Only a tick or two had gone by. Every second carried with it an entire lifetime of academic obligations, even if at this particular moment he was just sitting there listening to music. There was so much of it still left, time in school, it never ended, never moved. Dave was going to die within four walls just like these, wasn’t he?
Dave pulled out his earphone, whispered, “Bathroom,” and walked out of class, trying to calm himself down. He reminded himself that there were only four weeks left of school, and right away he knew that this wasn’t about school at all. This was about Julia. Something was wrong.
If he could put his finger on it he’d instantly flick the thing away, whatever it was. Because it was pesky and stupid and small. But things just didn’t add up. They still laughed. The kissing was incredible. They’d always spent the majority of their time together, so it wasn’t like it was weird to suddenly be in bed all afternoon with her.
Dave got himself a drink of water, lingered by the fountain for as long as he could, then went back to class. Julia’s head was still on her desk, the earphone he’d pulled out dangling over the edge of the table. For once, Ms. Romero had the bulletin board up and the attention of a handful of kids. Taking his place beside Julia again, Dave made sure to keep his eyes off the clock. He took the earphone but kept it in his hand, fiddling with the cord as he pretended to listen to Ms. Romero go on about whatever. Then he looked down at Julia, whose eyes were open, fixed on him. He smiled and brought the earphone up, and when she simply closed her eyes again the feeling that something was wrong came back.
o o o
AP Chem, right before lunch. Ever since the beach, Dave had been sitting at the front of the class, keeping his back turned the entire period to make it easier on Gretchen, to avoid the awkwardness of eye contact. The class was restless, their interest waning as blood sugar levels plummeted. Mr. Kahn asked questions and was met with silence, no one even interested in cracking jokes. There was a lull, and Dave could feel everyone reaching for the end of the day.
“Bueller? Bueller?” Mr. Kahn was saying. He sighed. “Do you guys even catch that reference?”
“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” someone yelled back. “We’re bored, not uncultured.”
The class broke out into laughter. Mr. Kahn frowned, then went to his desk to collect a stack of papers. “All right, I guess lecturing is over. This is your homework. You can take the last ten minutes of class to get started.”
Chairs instantly pushed back, the volume of chattering rising like a spark set to fuel.
“Quietly please!” Mr. Kahn said, and the chattering diminished but was not snuffed out. Then he walked over with the stack of papers and handed it to Dave. “Would you mind passing these out?”
Dave’s heart sank. “Sure.” He stood up, trying to keep his eyes from flitting in Gretchen’s direction. Would he be able to see the heartbreak on her face? Would she be crying? Avoiding his gaze? Maybe there was an e-mail feature he didn’t know about that told people how many times you’d reread their e-mail. Maybe she’d be able to see it on his face, no technology required.
When he handed her the packet, he tried to fix his eyes on something innocuous, the wooden desk, or the wall, or the floor. But on her desk was her forearm with its film of fine golden hairs, and on the wall was the clock, and on the floor were her scuffed sneakers. So his eyes in the end landed on her. She was looking at the paper already, uncapping her pen, her shoulders hunched over the desk, blond waves falling onto the papers. In a surprisingly sweet voice, she said, “Thanks, Dave.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, the words out of his mouth before he was conscious they’d been bubbling up. Gretchen tapped her pen against her desk a few times, biting her bottom lip. He hadn’t apologized at all, he now realized. Even that morning when she’d seen him with Julia. He’d run after her, but he’d never said he was sorry. The shame caused him to look away, take in the sights of the classroom. There was a ballet of pens twirling around fingers, plenty of doodling going on, Jane Henley was eating an apple.
“Dude, the papers!” someone called out, and Dave handed the remaining stack to the girl sitting next to Gretchen. A second ago he couldn’t imagine facing her, and now he couldn’t step away. Julia w
ould want him to apologize, right? He’d avoided bringing Gretchen up at all, and maybe that’d been what was off between them.
Gretchen finally looked up at Dave. She had bags under her eyes. Reaching back, she piled her hair together, sticking her pen through the bun to keep it in place. Then she leaned forward, putting her chin in her hand. “I was just saying thanks for the papers. You don’t have to apologize.”
“But I want to. I’m sorry.”
Gretchen looked around the room. He found himself wishing he knew her a little better, well enough to guess at what she was thinking. “That’s not enough,” Gretchen said after a moment. “To be sorry you hurt me is not enough for me to forgive you.”
Dave stuck his hands in his pockets, eyes on the ground. From years of watching Julia do it, he felt the impulse to kick his shoes off. He wondered in the silence that—regardless of the noise in the classroom—filled the space between him and Gretchen how Julia’s barefoot obsession had started. “I know. I think I should say it again anyway. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I hadn’t planned on that happening. I thought it was just a friendly road—”
“Dave, stop.” She shifted in her seat, pulling up one leg and tucking it beneath her. “Just ’cause there’s a part of me that sends emotional e-mails doesn’t mean I want the details.” She grabbed the pen out of the bun, causing her hair to spill down. Then she lowered her gaze back to the papers in front of her. “You made your choice.”
o o o
They’d spent the afternoon in bed again, Dave trying to interpret what the slightest touch meant. When Julia turned her back to him, he thought, She feels it, too. Then a second later she asked him to be the big spoon and he wondered what the hell was wrong with him, why he insisted that things weren’t perfect. He pressed himself close and kissed the back of her neck.
The lull fell into place quickly, and what should have felt like lazy love now made Dave restless. “You wanna go grab some food? I realized I’ve been an awful boyfriend and haven’t even taken you out on a date.”
“We’ve been dating for years; we were just missing this part.” She turned over to face him. “I don’t need you to take me on dates. This is great.”
“You’re not hungry?”
“Yeah. Just order some pizza and shove it into my face. We can have saucy, not-beardy sex afterward.”
“You know, one of these days I’m going to get really offended by the beard jokes and you’re going to lose me.”
“That’s why I keep that sexy mathematician around. He’s my backup.”
“I’m sure I’m the backup.” Dave kissed her forehead, then sat up. “Let’s get out of the house. See the world. I feel like my muscles are atrophying.”
“What muscles? I didn’t know you had muscles.”
“Wow, hurtful,” Dave said, poking her stomach.
“Wow, sensitive,” Julia said, burying her face into his stomach and wrapping her arms and legs around him like a vise. “Where was that spark the other day when I wanted to skip school? Now I’m feeling lazy.”
“You’re not gonna let me get out of bed, are you?”
Julia tightened her grip. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He tried to relax into her arms. He ran his hand along her side, then looked around his room. The jacaranda outside his window was swaying. Laundry was overflowing from his hamper. His whiteboard still had the quote from Gretchen’s tattoo on it. He wondered if Julia had noticed it. He remembered seeing it on Gretchen’s neck when they had cuddled, rubbing his finger over it.
He shook away the memory. Was this what it was always like with love? Memories wrapping themselves around acts, no chance of prying them apart? Or was this not normal at all? Was this not how it was supposed to be?
“You’re so antsy,” Julia said. She was still holding him close, but her grip had relaxed a little. She was looking up at him. “I had no idea you were the kind of guy that needed more than cuddling.”
“Even sustenance?”
“You know how many calories there are in cuddling? And vitamins?”
Dave chuckled, his eyes still on the whiteboard. He wanted Julia to keep joking, because when they were laughing everything felt exactly as it should be. But he couldn’t keep the banter going, and soon the silence fell over the two of them. It was an uneasy silence, like a liquid on the verge of boiling.
“Hey. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” Dave said.
Julia pulled back a little. “Don’t do that. That whole, ‘yeah I’m fine’ thing. I know you too well for that shit.” Her leg fell away from his.
Dave tried to meet her eyes, but when he saw those intense blue irises he was afraid every single one of his thoughts would be on display. He turned to look at the dust particles dancing in the light, trying to follow just one of them. “I don’t know,” Dave said. “I’m restless.”
“Like, you wanna go jogging?”
“Not quite.”
“Wanna play Ultimate Frisbee? Let a bunch of mice loose in the mall and then chase after them?”
“You’re a crazy person,” Dave said, squeezing her forearm. Then he let his head fall back and closed his eyes, as if this doubt were just some dizzy spell that would pass if he gave it a moment or two.
“Come on, don’t get all quiet on me. Something’s on your mind.”
Dave took a deep breath, exhaling slowly with his lips pursed, as if he was trying to whistle. “Gretchen,” he said, not believing he had said it.
“Oh.”
Dave kept his eyes closed, so he couldn’t tell what Julia was doing, just that less and less of her was making contact with his skin. Her weight shifted around the mattress until it felt like she was sitting on the corner of it. “In what way is she on your mind?”
“I don’t know. She’s just there.”
“Do you feel bad for her?”
“Yeah.”
Her hand landed on his thigh, soft and warm, reassuring. “You’ve got a good heart, Dave. It’s okay if you feel bad.” He felt her scoot back toward him, and he opened his eyes. She put her arms around his neck. “I wish it had happened some other way, too. But I’m glad you’re with me.” Leaning in, she kissed him. “You have a good heart, Dave. I wouldn’t love you as much as I do if it weren’t for that.”
Dave managed a smile, but the feeling that something was off hadn’t gone away. If anything, it was more acute, like he was just about to figure out exactly what it meant. “She wrote me an e-mail this week,” he said. Julia pulled her arms back, and he folded his hands in his lap, not knowing what else to do with them. “And I’ve been thinking about something she said.”
Julia got off from the bed and started to pace. She sat back against his desk, her hands leaning on it for support, her jaw clenched. “Yeah? What’d she say?”
“It was actually a nice e-mail. She said she wished I was happy even if it’s not with her.”
Julia relaxed, but she stayed away from the bed. “Okay.”
“She also said that we can’t choose who we love. The way she said it was, ‘Your heart’s an asshole for choosing someone else. But that’s not really your choice to make.’” He sat up a little, crossing his legs in front of him. “What I’ve been wondering is...” He paused, trying to figure out the right way to phrase it. If there was a right way. If he even knew exactly what he wanted to say. The wind blew stronger outside, and the branches of the jacaranda scraped against his window with a squeak.
“Just say it, dammit.”
“Calm down, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”
“Oh, you don’t know?” Julia rolled her eyes. “Where the hell is this coming from?”
“Where’s what coming from? I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re thinking you chose wrong, Dave. Yo
u can stammer all you want, but that’s what you were going to say.” Dave exhaled, wanting to deny it. Then he looked down at his tangled sheets, the dimples in the pillow where Julia’s head had been just a moment ago. “Tell me it’s not true. Tell me that’s not what you’ve been thinking.”
Dave couldn’t say anything, though. He was trying to find the words, but they were like the earphones on his desk, a whole bunch of them tangled together. Even if he managed to unravel them, he didn’t know how much use they could be.
Julia started pacing again. She turned the corner from his room and went into the bathroom, that signature pitter-patter of her bare feet on tile. When she came back he could see the tears forming in her eyes. He expected her to yell. To force him to say something. To force him to figure out what was going on. But she took a seat on the bed in front of him and she brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and tucking them close. She didn’t look away from him.
“I don’t think I chose wrong,” Dave finally said, weakly. “I don’t know if I made a choice at all.”
“So, what, then? What are you saying?”
“It’s not just Gretchen,” Dave said. “Haven’t things been a little... I don’t know.”
“Dave, you say you don’t know one more time, I’m going to throw a dictionary at you.”
“Sorry.” He smoothed out a patch of bedsheets by his side. “Off,” he said. “Things have been a little off. Haven’t they felt that way to you?”
Julia leaned down so her forehead was touching her knees. She shook her head that way, slowly, and when she looked up over the ridge of her kneecaps, tears were on the brink of her eyelids, caught on her lashes like divers about to jump. She bit her lip, she put her forehead down again, she shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said finally, managing a smile. “Maybe a little. But this is still new.”
