by Sandy Hall
She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long slow sigh when she sees Gabe.
“Of course,” she murmurs.
“I’m on break for another ten,” I tell them.
They both nod. She takes a seat behind him.
They sit in stony silence for a few moments and then he turns in his seat.
“I’m sorry I was being so belligerent,” he says.
“I’m sorry I was so cold to you yesterday at Starbucks,” she says.
I start up the bus and I drive the route I’m supposed to. I don’t think either of them noticed they got on going in the wrong direction, so it’s going to take extra time to get them to their side of campus.
“I know I said I didn’t want to talk right now, but there are things you should know.”
She nods and looks less tense.
“So, here’s the deal,” he says.
I glance at them in the rearview mirror while we’re sitting at a stoplight. She’s leaning on his seat and he’s still sitting sideways, but he’s not looking at her anymore, instead he’s focused on his lap. There’s something about the way she has her hands folded under her chin that makes me think she wants to touch him but she’s holding back.
“First of all, this is really embarrassing, but I’ve never had a girlfriend or anything and I was worried that I would do something wrong.”
Lea shrugs. “I’ve only had one long-term boyfriend. It’s not exactly like I’m Elizabeth Taylor going on her fortieth husband or something.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“That does make me feel better.”
“See? Look at how easy it is,” she says, smiling.
“This one is harder, because it’s not that big of a deal anymore, but it’s important for you to know, because I think you’ll understand me a little better.”
She nods patiently.
“January of last year I was in a car accident,” he starts. “Right after New Year’s.”
She gasps a tiny breath. I’m not even sure how I hear over the noise of the bus engine.
“I was driving back from dropping my little sister Becca off at a sleepover and I hit some ice and my car spun around and slammed into a tree, right in the driver’s side. I broke my elbow and I hit my head really hard on the door.” He touches his ear and the side of his head unconsciously.
He glances at her and I realize that I sat through this light twice already. Good thing there’s no one else around right now. I start driving again, but my focus is with the kids. I always say we shouldn’t be out on the roads when it’s icy.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.
“It’s okay! That’s the thing. I’m okay. I was unconscious for a couple of days and there were a couple of weeks where I was in the hospital and everything hurt. And I needed help with pretty much everything and my mom bought me a lot of shoes without laces since I was in casts for so long and couldn’t tie my shoes.” He smiles at her then, but she looks too stricken to smile back.
“Okay.”
“But it turns out that when I hit my head, I basically … broke something in my ear. And that’s why I can’t hear out of it. There’s more to it than that, boring medical stuff, but that’s the gist. And the doctor said it might get better or it might not. I kept waiting for it to get better. And my elbow got better, and my head. But not my ear.”
She nods.
“And then I came back to school after being gone so long and I lost my baseball scholarship. Everything just sucked so much all the time,” he says. This kid is killing me. “I wanted you to like me, but I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me. I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. So instead I messed everything up.”
We’re at their stop now and I don’t know whether to tell them or not. Lea notices and stands.
“Thank you,” she says to him. “For telling me.”
“So we’re good?”
“Yeah. I just…” She pauses and sighs. “I feel like things have been weird and crazy and if maybe you had told me this sooner, I would have understood. But I had almost nothing to work with.”
He nods, but he looks like he’s bracing himself for a punch in the face.
“Can I have some time? To think?” Lea asks.
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry. It’s a lot to take in.” She crosses her arms and it’s like she finally remembers that I’m there. She holds up a finger, asking me to wait one minute.
“Oh.”
“It’s not a bad thing. But I lied before about how drunk I was, and you’re drunk, and I don’t know that we can resolve all these months of stupidity in one night.”
He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes.
“Walk me home?” she asks. “Please?”
He nods and they walk down the aisle, both of them thanking me, always on their best behavior even when they’re obviously having an emotional night.
I watch them walk until they disappear into their building.
Casey (Gabe’s friend)
I’m sitting on the porch pretending to read for my abnormal psych class. It’s a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. The sun is out, the birds are shitting all over my car, and the chair I’m sitting on is groaning underneath me every time I shift around. I probably shouldn’t have it tipped back with my feet propped up on the railing, but there’s something about living dangerously that gets any civil engineer’s heart racing. I’m testing the tensile strength. At least that’s what I’ll say when I get to the emergency room after it collapses out from under me.
“Why are you reading I Never Promised You a Rose Garden?”
I didn’t even notice Gabe approach the house. The chair almost gives out as I flail around to right it. It does make a horrible squealing sound as the two front legs hit the floor.
“Abnormal psych,” I say, while he laughs at my near fall. “Stop laughing at me.”
He snorts, and then makes a serious face as he takes the other chair.
“So, what’s up?” I ask. I have at least four hundred other questions I would like to ask, but I figure I should start with a fairly innocuous one.
“Nothing.”
“Something’s up.”
“Well, yeah. But I don’t know how to talk about it.”
“We could play twenty questions. Starting with where did you go last night?”
“I went home.”
“Why didn’t you text one of us so we didn’t think you were dead?”
He gives me an exasperated look.
“Fine, we knew you weren’t dead. But you should have come back inside.”
“No way, it was too humiliating. I couldn’t deal.”
“She left, too.”
“Yeah, I know. We ran into each other on the bus.”
“Yeah?”
“And I pretty much bared my soul to her and she was like, ‘Cool, let’s pick this up some other time.’”
“Seriously?”
“I guess I was giving too many mixed signals and like … not giving her enough to work with. And she said we were both too drunk to come to any decent conclusions last night. And as we were walking into our building, she said she’d let me know when she was ready to talk.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Do?”
“Yeah, what’s the next step?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“I’m proud of you for acknowledging that there should be a next step.”
“Yes, there should be, but I feel like I need to take a cue from her. Like I’ll get a sign that she’s ready to continue the conversation or whatever.”
“You should go for some kind of romantic gesture.”
“Oh, yeah, that sounds like me.”
“So, make it a Gabe-esque romantic gesture.”
“I can’t even imagine what that might entail.”
“Wait, before we get completely off track, was there a reason you came here?”
“Yeah, I was lookin
g for some mindless entertainment in the form of video games.”
“I think we can manage that.”
MAY
Hillary (creative writing classmate)
“Sorry I ran a little late. Allergies,” Inga says, rushing into the classroom at the last second. She looks like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
I really can’t wait for this semester to be over. Particularly now that I know that Gabe thinks he’s too good for me. I’m tired of having to spend several hours a week in his presence.
“I’m making a last-minute change to the assignment that’s due on Thursday.” Inga’s nasally voice pulls me out of my daydream.
A groan erupts from the class.
“It’s going to be shorter than it used to be,” she promises.
I look at her suspiciously. I have a feeling this is some kind of trick. Nothing is ever short and easy in this class.
“You’re going to write a one-hundred-word description of someone without using any adjectives.”
“What?” I ask. I must have heard wrong.
“One hundred words, no adjectives, describing someone.”
“But adjectives are descriptive words.” I’m trying to understand why Inga thinks this is something normal people can accomplish. Like you have to be some kind of writing genius to do well on this assignment.
“Yes, thank you, Hillary, I know what adjectives are.”
“It’s impossible,” I say. I have to work hard not to mumble “bitch” under my breath. Maybe her allergy medicine is making her stupid.
That must be it, because she literally rolls her eyes. Teachers aren’t supposed to roll their eyes. I should report her for being a bitch. I look over at Gabe doodling in a notebook and then over to Lea, who’s chewing her thumbnail. A glance around the rest of the room shows that all of the other students are also blasé about this ridiculous assignment. I slide down in my chair and cross my arms.
“Okay. Here’s an example: ‘My mom has a chair in her living room and when she sits in that chair the way she holds herself is relaxed. When she reads a book in that chair, it’s like her habitat. When she settles down for an evening in that chair all is right in her world.’ Can you picture my mom? The kind of person my mom is?”
“I guess…” I say, making sure to keep my attitude at maximum strength. If Inga can be bitchy then so can I.
“You could also say that someone has the face of a weasel, and their hair is straw, and their demeanor reminds you of a poodle that thinks too much of itself.”
Oh, you better not be talking about me. I’m about to leap out of my seat and show Inga who’s boss when a quiet voice says, “Sounds kinda cool.”
Gabe’s cute expression helps tamp down my anger. Until I remember that he’s a complete dorkface and I can’t stand him. Why is my life so complicated?
“Good,” Inga says. “And everyone is going to have to read theirs in class. It’s going to be twenty percent of your final. The other eighty percent will still be your series of story prompts as previously discussed.”
Gabe audibly gulps. What did I ever see in him?
“I promise it’ll be okay,” Inga says, looking right at him. What the hell? Why is she such a weirdo perv?
I’m so glad this year is almost over.
Charlotte (a barista)
It’s so busy I don’t even notice her until she’s right in front of me, picking up her beverage.
“Hey,” I say.
“Oh, hey.”
She seems bummed. I want to at least ask if she’s okay but the line is out of control and the steam wand is making pterodactyl noises. It’s not exactly a great moment for chitchat.
She takes her iced grande caramel macchiato and sits at the closest table, staring out the window. I have to wonder if she’s trying to will Gabe into the store using only the powers of her mind. I watch her out of the corner of my eye until my hour on drink duty is up. She has a little pink notebook out and she’s scribbling away.
Of course she has a little pink notebook.
I’m shocked it’s not covered in faux fur or something.
I meander toward her under the guise of wiping down tables. She looks over at me, and smiles, tight-lipped, and it doesn’t reach her eyes.
One of her friends literally sashays through the door then.
“Lea my love,” he says, and she looks up from her notebook. “How are things?”
“Hey, Danny. Things have been better,” she says.
“Tell me your troubles,” he says.
I eavesdrop on them as I wipe down the tables better than they have ever been wiped down in the history of Starbucks. But when she gets to the part where she told Gabe she needed more time, I can’t contain myself one more second.
“You did what?” I ask, stepping right up to the table.
“We were drunk,” she says, looking up at me, shaking her head. “It was bad timing. Everything felt wrong.”
“He’s like pretty much in love with you, you know,” I say.
“What?”
“He never stops looking at you, when you’re here together. I’ve heard him ask people about you when you’re not around. I’ve heard him talking about you.”
“She’s totally right,” Danny says.
“I messed up,” Lea says.
“Listen,” I say, sighing and taking the seat across from her, hoping my manager doesn’t notice. “I thought he was a complete asshole. Like a total flake and not really worth anyone’s time. But over the past few months, he’s changed my mind. We love watching you guys.”
“We?”
“Um, basically everyone who works here, but in particular Tabitha and Keith.”
That makes her smile for real this time.
“So, I guess I’m saying give it another shot. It can’t hurt.”
“I agree,” Danny says.
“Okay,” she says. “I think I have a plan.”
Victor (creative writing classmate)
I hear Gabe before I see him. I mean, I have no idea when I hear the movement that it’s going to be Gabe, because had I known it was Gabe I would have run quietly in the other direction. He’s shelving books in the library and I need a book from the exact place he’s working. There’s no way around this confrontation.
When he sees me, I get the distinct feeling he’s more afraid of me than I am of him.
“Hey, man,” I say.
He grunts a response and barely glances at me.
“Did you and your girl work everything out the other night?”
He scoffs.
“I guess not.”
“Why would you care?” he asks, his voice quiet and steady.
“I feel like a shit about it. I should have walked away. Instead I got involved and somehow I made things worse. And I’m sorry.”
He rolls his eyes and moves down to the next section.
“I’m serious.”
“Cool,” he says, his voice sort of pinched now, uncomfortable.
“And I’m sorry about what I said on the last day of creative writing last semester. I guess I thought maybe you would use it as a push in the right direction. It’s so obvious that she likes you, bro.”
“Ha.”
“No, I’m serious.”
“Yeah, right. Why am I supposed to believe you?”
“Because for some reason I keep getting stuck inside your little … moments. I was there at midnight breakfast, and at that show in January, and the other night. Not to mention all those classes last semester.”
He turns to look at me. Apparently now I have his attention.
“And you two assholes are the most annoyingly cute thing I’ve ever seen. I’m annoyed at myself for even using the word ‘cute.’ I feel sick to my stomach over using that word.”
That makes him chuckle.
“I have no clue why I’m getting involved, and at this point you would have every right to punch me in the face, but I guess before you do that, you should know that I might hate
you guys, but you obviously don’t hate each other.”
“Well, after you left the other night, she got on the bus and I was there. She asked me to give her some time. So I’m giving her some time.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have walked away in the first place.”
“Did she say anything? While you guys were walking?”
“I hope you realize how deep my self-loathing goes that I’m even involved with this, but after you left I walked with her to the bus. And she talked about you the whole time. It wasn’t always nice stuff, because she was pissed off, but it was like she couldn’t stop. She made me promise not to tell anyone what she said, and I don’t remember the specifics, but I feel pretty confident in telling you that she never told me not to tell you she said it. Just not to tell anyone what she said.”
He narrows his eyes at me and I can see him mouthing the last words I said. “I think I’m keeping up with you here.”
“Yeah, I don’t want to get kneed in the balls over this. I wouldn’t put it past her to do something like that.”
He smiles for real this time. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thanks, Victor.”
“I would totally be lying if I said ‘anytime.’” I leave then before this becomes any more like a scene in a Lifetime movie.
Pam (Inga’s wife)
“Aw, sweetheart, you look awful,” I say to Inga as I come in Tuesday night after work.
“Thanks,” she says, sniffling and blowing her nose.
“Well, you do look awful. And you sound worse. And I like to think that honesty is a key aspect of our relationship. The cornerstone even.”
“Please stop babbling and make me some soup,” she says, her voice sadder than her face.
“Of course.”
Once the soup has been made and she’s ensconced on the couch with more blankets and pillows, I take a seat in the armchair across from her. The blankets basically act as a force field, so there’s no use trying to sit next to her on the couch.
“Ugh. I thought this was allergies and it definitely isn’t.”
“You should probably cancel class tomorrow.”
“No!”
“Okay…”
“I have to go. I gave the assignment.”
“Which assignment is that?”
“The describe someone without adjectives assignment.”
