In the Wake of Wanting

by Lori L. Otto

  At the hospital, I spend the first half of my visit touring the facility with my parents, making notes of things I would want to change if I was confined to live here. Mom had asked for my input when they decided to investigate it as their next charitable undertaking. Everything is spotless today, cleaner than I remember it being last time. They only found out my parents would be coming yesterday when they requested the walk-through, but it’s obvious a lot of effort was made to make the place look brighter and friendlier.

  When Mom and Dad decide to sit down with the director, I join Coley, her brothers, and Nyall’s doctor in the main room where they’re all communicating in sign language. Her oldest brother stands up and shakes my hand, then signals to Joel to make room for me on the couch across from him.

  “Bring your shorts?” he asks me, ignoring the rest of the conversation they were having.

  “I did.”

  He looks anxiously at his doctor as he stands and takes off his shirt. He’s already got his swimming trunks on. “Your brother and sister were talking to you,” she says to him.

  “We can chat for a bit,” I suggest, not wanting to interrupt their family session.

  Nyall throws his shirt at Joel and signs while he speaks. “Come talk to me at the pool. Trey and I are gonna race.”

  “Not without me,” Joel says.

  “You guys aren’t leaving me out, either,” Coley adds. “I know I can beat Joel, at least.”

  “That’s fine,” Dr. Schubert concedes. Nyall’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for his nurses to move. As soon as they head in the direction of his room, he takes off in a jog. “Walk, Nyall!” She directs her attention to us. “You remember where the changing rooms are?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answer her, picking up the gym bag I’d packed for myself and Coley.

  After an hour, Nyall’s discovered that I’d let him win at our first meeting, but he’s legitimately beat me once today. Joel’s the slowest swimmer. Coley had told me before he’d taken a few years off after the incident that caused him to lose his hearing. Coley beat Nyall a couple of times, as well, but her stroke isn’t quite powerful enough to take me on. She’s great, though. Her form is perfect, and she’ll make the team next year, no doubt.

  My parents finally meet us by the pool and introduce themselves to Nyall.

  “So’s my house bigger than yours?” he asks them, signing as he speaks as if it’s second nature with his brother around.

  Dad smiles. “By many acres.” Coley responds in ASL so Joel can follow along.

  “I bet you have TVs in every room, though.”

  “You could use a little more technology here,” my father says. “I think there are ways to make that happen.”

  “Movies? Music? Video games?”

  “There’s a lot left to discuss, but I’m proposing a little of everything. I think some could be very beneficial to different types of therapy, from what I’ve been researching. What do you think about an entire recreational building devoted to technology? Computers, instruments, a theater, interactive games…”

  “The internet?”

  “A buttoned up version of the internet, I’m sure, but yes.”

  “I’m afraid to get my hopes up,” Nyall admits. Coley hops out of the pool and sits on the edge, putting her hand on her brother’s shoulder.

  “Get your hopes up,” she encourages him.

  “We’ve already made an endowment,” Mom says. “We’re gonna spruce this place up. Install a better security program and tear down those horrible gates.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” my dad affirms.

  “Why?” Nyall asks.

  “Because you’re worth it,” he answers.

  “You didn’t need to do that, Coley.”

  “I didn’t,” she says. “He did.” She nods at me.

  He steps toward me in the water, then stops and looks up at the guards that are watching him. He holds out his hand, keeping himself distanced from me. “That was nice of you.”

  “Any brother of Coley’s is a brother of mine. And you deserve better than this. I want you to have more… more to see, to do, to experience. More to talk about with Joel and Coley. And more opportunities to talk to them. What if you could video chat with them? Wouldn’t that be cool?”

  “I can’t race you guys over the phone,” he says dryly.

  “We’re still going to visit you, Ny. But we miss you. I’d love to get to talk to you more.”

  “Maybe then we could discuss your poetry,” he suggests. Her eyes grow wide. “I don’t like talking about it in front of Dr. Schubert. It’s all so personal. But it’s so good, Coley. I still write a little, too.”

  “I’d love to read them,” she says. He shrugs. “Can you mail some to me?”

  “My handwriting’s horrible.”

  I turn around and look at my parents. “Something he can type on, first and foremost.”

  “Top priority,” Mom says. “And a printer and stamps, if we can’t get internet service right away.”

  “Thank you. All of you,” he says.

  “Thank you for hanging out with us on a Tuesday,” Joel says. “This was fun.”

  “Can we bring you anything from Palau?” Coley asks Nyall.

  It doesn’t take long for him to answer. “Sand.”

  “We’re not bringing you sand, silly,” she says, laughing.

  “You got it, man,” I answer, speaking over her after seeing the sobriety in his expression.

  “Thanks.”

  Coley’s face changes quickly, and she turns away from her brother to hide her embarrassment and the onset of tears. “You need to change?” I ask her, giving her an excuse to walk away. She nods and pushes herself up, walking toward the women’s dressing room. “I guess we better go, too.” I speak slowly, allowing myself time to remember the sign language to correspond to my suggestion.

  “Okay,” Joel responds.

  chapter twenty-six

  On Wednesday, I sit at the corner table in Ruvelyn’s, sipping a cup of coffee and working on the assignment I just got in my astronomy class.

  “Can I sit here?”

  Stanley pulls out the chair across from me, waiting for my answer. His smile is cordial. His countenance, contrite. “Sure,” I tell him, closing my book.

  “How are you?” he asks.

  I hesitate answering, examining his tone and delivery for an underlying meaning in his question. “Great,” I say simply, although it’s about as far from the truth as it could be.

  He nods, not believing me for a second. I can tell by his facial expression. “Shitty week, huh?”

  “It’s not something I care to discuss with you. I hope you understand.”

  “I’m sorry, Trey,” he counters immediately. “Shit, I am so damn sorry. This situation is so messed up.”

  “Situation?” I ask him. “Situation? You mean this horrific crime repeatedly committed by a guy you defended? That situation?”

  “I’ve known him for years. It was unfathomable to me that he could do such things to women.”

  “I gave you facts. I delivered the truth in print in those articles, and you still believed his lying ass over me. Me! This guy who’s never once successfully lied to you–and every time I’ve tried, Stan, you’ve called me out on it. You know my tells. You always used to tease me about that. It’s why you said you love playing poker with me.”

  “Clearly I picked the wrong side in this. I was loyal to the wrong brother.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want any of that shit to be true. Don’t tell me you don’t understand that.”

  I think back to my initial response. It would be hypocritical of me to say I didn’t understand. “No, I get it,” I say softly. “But I did what I knew was right for those girls and for any other women who could become his victims in the future.”

  “You absolutely did the right thing,” he says. “You know my little sister, Leigh, is a freshman this year. She considers you and Coley h
eroes for exposing him for what he is. And those women who came forward, too.”

  “Pryana, Lucy and Kamiesha–they’re the brave ones. Coley and I were just doing our jobs.”

  “I think what you all did was important. And that had to be so hard for you, because I know how serious you took the oath of Sig Rho. You took each of those values to heart. Loyalty especially.”

  “It was easy to show the world what he’d done. Once he proved he lacked all those values, I had no problem being disloyal to him. It was accepting that you guys weren’t loyal to me–that was hard. That sucked.” In my head, I hear “snow cones” and feel a pang in my chest. I smile a little, though, thinking about her.

  “That’s funny?” Stanley asks.

  “No, it’s something else. It wasn’t funny at all.”

  “They revoked our charter,” he tells me.

  “Yeah, I saw Columbia suspended the fraternity.”

  “No, like, the National President of Sigma Rho revoked our charter since all of the events occurred at or around our functions.”

  “Oh, wow.”

  “Pretty disgraceful. And all because of one guy. We’re not like that.”

  “I know. I was never like that, either. I don’t want to be associated with that.”

  “Me, neither. I guess this will be in The Wit.”

  “I’m sure it will.”

  “Can you write it?”

  “No,” I tell him. “I’m sure they won’t put me on that due to my association.”

  “Yeah,” he says, solemn.

  “Is that why you’re talking to me? You wanted me to write some sort of fluff piece about it, defending the rest of the members of Sig Rho?” I’m unable to hide my disappointment.

  “No. I came over here to apologize, Trey. That’s all. I thought I’d see if you wanted to go to a Knicks game with me tomorrow night. They’re playing the Nets.” He pulls out two tickets from his backpack and sets them on the table. “If you don’t want to go with me, you can take your girl.” He pushes them toward me. “I know you love your basketball.”

  “These are floor seats,” I tell him, as if he didn’t already know. He nods. I pick them up and hand them back to him, shrugging. “I’m in.”

  “Dinner at Keens first? My treat.”

  “That’s cool. Sure.”

  “And if you’re hungry for Dig Inn anytime, let me know.”

  “I will,” I tell him.

  “How are you doing with the rest of the shit going on… with what happened last weekend? How are you and Coley?” he asks.

  “Well… it’s much worse for her than it is for me. She’s attending school remotely until after spring break. Right now she’s in Virginia at her mother’s house. We were both going to get out of here for awhile, but she, uh…” He knows so little about Coley that I decide not to tell him the personal details that caused me to cancel the trip to Palau. “I just thought it would be best to stay and deal with the consequences and hope people’s curiosities diminish by the time she’s ready to come back to school.”

  “I’ve heard really good things about her. Leigh has a few classes with her. She says she’s nothing like what people are making her out to be.” I can tell he’s rethinking his choice of words as he swallows. “That she’s really sweet and smart and creative and… kind of reserved.”

  “Yeah, that website that popped up last night–the one soliciting to be her next–”

  “Fuck?”

  “Let’s just say boyfriend so I don’t lose my shit… yeah. It’s completely tasteless and useless. Can you believe more than seventeen-hundred-fifty guys have signed up for that thing?”

  “You should get your lawyer to send them a C&D.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s a nice list to keep so I know all the douchebags I never want to have anything to do with. I also know who started the page, so if she ever does want it gone, we’ve got his contact info.”

  “It’s a pretty sophisticated site,” he says with a wistful nod. “Like Match, but dedicated solely to her.”

  “Trust me, she’s not flattered. She’s disgusted by it. They know nothing about her. They only know what they saw, and that’s not how she wants to be known.”

  “I don’t blame her,” he says. “Anyway, I need to head to my next class. If you need anything, let me know. But I’ll meet you at your place tomorrow? Is that good?”

  “I’m in the middle of moving. Let’s meet here. Thanks again, Stan.”

  “Thanks for understanding.” He pats me on the back and heads toward the door where he’s stopped by two girls that came in shortly after I did. “You ladies are wasting your time,” I hear him say. “Leave him alone. Let him study.” I open my book back up, trying to be nonchalant as I look up at them. They both wave at me, but instead of smiling or giving a friendly nod back like I normally do, I shift my chair away from them and look down, re-reading the paragraph where I’d left off earlier.

  “No loitering, ladies,” Frank says. “You either order something, or I’m gonna have to ask ya to leave.”

  “Dick,” one of them says to him, grabbing her purse and making a lot of noise as she slides off the chair. They both leave in a huff at the barista’s directive.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him, “but thanks.”

  “You and Coleco are two of my best customers. Gotta keep you happy.” He walks out from behind the counter. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s having a rough time.”

  “You gonna see her anytime soon?”

  “Tonight. I’m taking Amtrak.” I grin, excited about seeing her even though it was less than twenty-four hours ago that I took a car with her from the Winchester Regional Airport to her mother’s house. Once Coley emerged from the dressing room at Nyall’s hospital after changing back into her clothes, she’d told me she wanted to go home–not to New York, but to DC. Her eyes were puffy, and her nose was red. My mom, dad and her brother all flew back to the city on the jet while I accompanied her to DC, not wanting to leave her alone in her depressed state. She had told me she didn’t want to go to Palau, and then apologized profusely for changing her mind at the last minute. I told her it was fine, and I didn’t need to ask her why. As soon as the realization hit that Nyall was serious about his souvenir request, her demeanor completely changed. He wanted us to bring a little bit of Palau to him because he thought he’d never get to go there himself. I knew Coley believed that, too, and she was overcome with guilt. The feeling was tangible in every labored breath she took as she cried on the way home.

  Frank returns to the pastry display case behind the counter, takes out a few things and puts them in a bag, and then brings it to me.

  “Some of her favorite things to make her feel a little better. Let her know she’s missed.”

  “Thanks, Frank. She’s definitely missed.”

  “I, for one, am happy you two are finally dating. I hope it’s not weird for me to say that. I’ve just never seen two people with so much chemistry fighting so hard to stay apart.”

  “It’s not weird. It’s easy to be with her. Much easier than avoiding her, that’s for sure.”

  After my class time at The Wit, I walk with Pryana to Coley’s dorm. She’d decided to stay with Teri in Coley’s absence, still not comfortable living alone in her apartment full time.

  “Hi, Trey,” Teri says, greeting me with a hug. “I’ve got two items for you. Is that too much?”

  “Nothing’s too much,” I assure her, looking at the old, vintage suitcases on her bed and gauging their sizes to figure out how I can combine her things into luggage that will travel better. The cases actually have stickers from cities and countries on them, and I would venture to guess she earned those badges on her own, traveling to most of those places with her father when he was on assignment. It feels like a romantic notion to me, adding the stickers; it seems like something Coley would do. “What all is in here?” I ask, picking them both up.

  “Just… lots of clothes, some ma
keup, her one-piece suits, pajamas, a few pairs of shoes. I just packed until there was no more room,” she says.

  “Great,” I say with a laugh. “I’m sure that will work.”

  “Well it’s for two and a half weeks, so…”

  “She’ll be grateful, trust me.”

  “Okay. I mean, if she wants anything I forgot, aren’t you going back on Friday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then I’m sure we’re fine.”

  “You’ll be in class Friday?” Pryana asks me.

  “Of course.”

  “I just know you were excused…”

  “I was just going to take time off to get her away from here. She didn’t want to go on the trip I’d planned. She just wanted to go home. There’s no point in me missing classes.”

  “You’d get away from the prying eyes and questions.”

  “What doesn’t kill me…” I start the old adage. “I hope they get it all out of their systems before Coley has to come back. I think by me being here, that has a better chance of happening.”

  “I think you’re right,” Pree agrees. She checks her watch. “If you have to swing by your place, you better get going.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure we’ll be texting tomorrow. Let me know what you think about Monica’s piece. I thought it was a little light on substance. I just feel weird telling her that.”

  “Suck it up, Managing Editor Holland. I’ll give you my feedback, but you get to deliver the news to her if I agree. It’s part of the job.”

  “I know, I know,” I tell her as I leave through the door she holds open for me. “You packed way too much,” I mention to Teri as an aside, noting the weight of the suitcases.

  “Stop complaining.”

  “Bye, ladies.”

  I arrive at Coley’s, toting one large rolling suitcase with all of her things and a duffel bag with a change of clothes and my books. Her mom, Beth, answers the door after the Uber driver drops me off.

  “Come in, Trey,” she says warmly, holding open the door to the modest, one-story house in the middle of the block of an older neighborhood with huge trees. “I thought you were leaving in the morning.” She eyes the luggage I’m dragging behind me.