by Robin Talley
With every minute I lie in bed, it seems more and more likely that it’s all over now. That everything that once worked in my life has been erased from it. That I have nothing left. At all.
See? Thinking about myself leads to bad, bad places.
* * *
Someone’s knocking on the door. Crap.
I haven’t seen anyone since I left Carroll’s room hours and hours ago. I don’t know where Samantha’s been since yesterday, but it’s just as well. I can’t face the sight of another human being.
My phone buzzes with a text.
I jump up so fast I knock my phone to the floor. I scramble to pick it up, but my hands are asleep from where I was lying on them and my fingers are trembling. I try as hard as I can to not think about what I want the text to say.
I want the text to say:
Don’t worry, Gretchen, it was all a dream. Toni will call you in a few minutes to whine about homework and find out what you want for Christmas. Carroll will stop by later and ask you to come out for pizza. Your life will go back to being exactly the way it’s supposed to be.
I pick up the phone and click Read Message.
The text says:
r u in your room? We’re out here knocking.
It’s from Briana. I flop back into bed.
“Come in,” I say, not caring if I’m loud enough for them to hear.
I must be, though, because the door opens. Briana comes in with Rosa and Heidi behind her. I guess their drama from that night at the bar, whatever it was, is over.
“Jesus,” Rosa says. “What did you do to your hair?”
“It’s a metaphor for my life in general,” I say.
“Are you sick?” Briana asks. “It, um, kind of smells in here.”
“Yeah, I’m sick,” I say.
The girls hover by the foot of my bed.
“Sorry,” Briana says. “We were just going down to get some food and wanted to see if you ate yet.”
“No,” I say.
“No, you didn’t eat?” Rosa asks. “Or no, you don’t want to come eat with us?”
“No, I don’t want to ever get out of bed again.” I close my eyes.
I turn off my phone and throw it across the room. It lands on a pile of my dirty clothes. It can stay there forever as far as I’m concerned.
“Uh,” Briana says. “Okay. We’ll see you around, Gretch. Hope you feel better.”
They’re gone.
I roll back over to face the wall.
* * *
There’s another noise at the door. I look at the clock. It’s 8:16. I don’t know if it’s a.m. or p.m.
Someone’s shaking my shoulder. I swat their hand away.
“Leave me alone,” I say.
“Just tell me if you’re alive, at least,” Samantha says.
I roll over and squint at her. “You’re back.”
“Yeah. What on earth did you do while I was gone? It smells awful in here. Wait—did you puke?”
I forgot about that.
“No,” I say.
“You’re lucky I have two little brothers.” Samantha’s got a squirt bottle and some paper towels now and is on her hands and knees next to the bed. “I’ve cleaned up more puke in my lifetime than anyone should ever have to.”
“Thanks,” I mumble and turn back toward the wall.
“Are you sick?” she asks.
“Kind of.”
“Are you hungry? I have bananas and trail mix.”
I am kind of hungry, now that the puke smell is mostly gone. “Okay.”
Samantha gives me a bag of food and starts cleaning up my side of the room. She puts the dirty clothes in a pile and plugs my phone into the wall charger, but to my relief she doesn’t turn the phone back on.
While she works, she tells me it’s Friday night. That means it’s only been fourteen hours since I talked to Carroll in the hall. It feels like at least a year has passed.
Samantha tells me where she’s been. Apparently some guy, Draven, invited her to a concert in New Haven, but then he turned out to be a prick. Only when she’s finished telling me all about how Draven used a fake ID to rent a car and then lied about it to the cop who pulled them over does she ask me.
“So, what happened? Is this about Toni again?”
I start to tell her about last night. Instead I say, “Yeah. It’s about Toni.”
Then I’m crying. Because it is about Toni. It’s always been about Toni.
I haven’t cried all day. It feels sort of good, the coolness on my cheeks.
Samantha gives me a tissue from the box on her desk. Then she goes over to the minifridge and hands me a bottle of orange juice.
“What’s this for?” I ask, wiping snot off my face.
“Orange juice always makes me feel better,” she says.
I take a gulp. Then I tell her about last night. She watches me talk, nodding the whole time.
“I knew it would happen sooner or later,” she says when I’m done.
“You did?” I hiccup.
“Even Draven predicted it. I was telling him about you and Carroll, and he said if you guys hadn’t already slept together, you would before finals were over.”
“Go, Draven.” I take another sip. The orange juice is making me feel a tiny bit better.
“I’m sorry Carroll was such a jerk to you,” she says. “To be honest, I’ve always thought he was a jerk.”
At first I think she’s just trying to comfort me. All I can remember is months of Sam giggling at Carroll’s jokes in the dining hall.
“You have?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah. He’s incredibly rude and selfish to everyone except you, since you were the cute girl he got to carry around like a nice handbag. Now I guess he’s too embarrassed to be around you, so he’s moving on to a new accessory.”
I can’t process all this at once.
Samantha’s wrong. I know Carroll a lot better than she does. He isn’t like that.
And I get why he’s upset. It’s like he said—he had this ideal life he was trying to live here, where he got to have all the gay fun he’d dreamed of back in rural New Jersey. Back home he used to get beaten up just for existing. Now he’s finally somewhere he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not.
Until I came along and messed it all up.
“It’s not like that,” I tell Samantha. “I think he’s just ashamed. He hates himself for letting it happen.”
“He’s not some helpless victim here. These things take two, last I checked.”
That makes me smile, just a little. I stop before Samantha notices.
“If you hate him so much, why have you been hanging out with us all semester?” I ask her.
“Because I wanted to hang out with you, and you never go anywhere without him. I know how that is, when your entire world is centered around one person. You think they can do no wrong. It was that way with me and my boyfriend all last year before that bitch Stephanie started prowling around.” She sighs. “Sorry. I’m still bitter.”
“It wasn’t like that with Carroll and me,” I say. “We’re just friends.”
“Seriously,” Samantha says. “Was it really that different? You spent all your time together. I mean, when’s the last time you had a normal friend? Do you even remember how it works?”
Hmm. Carroll’s the only real friend I’ve had in years who wasn’t Toni’s friend first. Except Briana and her crew.
And Samantha. I’ve never really thought of Sam as a friend, though. I don’t know why.
Isn’t that why I came here, though? To do my own thing, without Toni? Make friends who were all mine?
Instead I’ve spent all year obsessing about Toni, and... I’m pretty sur
e Toni hasn’t been obsessing about me back. At least, not as much as Toni’s been obsessing about Toni.
And I get it. For real. The gender stuff is a big deal. I promised I’d wait while Toni figured it all out, but in the meantime I forgot I was supposed to be figuring myself out, too. Maybe that’s what college is for.
“Anyway, if Carroll was really your friend, he wouldn’t have said that to you this morning,” Sam says. “No matter how awkward it was.”
“Maybe he was having a psychotic break,” I say. “It would be freaky, being gay and then randomly hooking up with a girl.”
“Well, you did it. Was it that freaky for you?”
I think about it. “Nah. I mean, it was weird, and I don’t think I want to do it again, but I’m not, you know, suicidal over it. Sex isn’t that big a deal to me.”
“So you didn’t suddenly turn straight last night? Or bi, or whatever?”
I almost smile. I forget how Sam is about this stuff. She’s like the exchange student my brother hosted in middle school who thought it was absolutely fascinating that our family went to church once a week. He kept asking questions about which saints were our favorites and whether the Virgin Mary put candy in our shoes at Christmas.
“No,” I say. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe if you liked it?”
I smile for real at that. “Well, it was okay. But not, you know. Stellar.”
“Not as good as with girls?”
“Not even close.”
“Well, that’s not his fault. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Is there that much to it? It seemed straightforward enough.”
Samantha laughs.
I don’t think she gets what I’m trying to say, though. The thing is, your sexual orientation is only this tiny part of your actual sex life. I mostly like girls, but I’ve been attracted to guys before, and it really isn’t a big deal.
But there is one thing I figured out last night. Sex needs to be tied to something else. Something bigger. You can’t just stick it in the middle of any relationship and expect it to work. At least, not if you’re me.
“Anyway,” Sam says, still laughing, “Carroll’s the one who has issues. Don’t let him get to you.”
I finish the juice. “I have issues, too.”
“I know. Speaking of which, how come when I first asked you what was wrong, you said it was about Toni?”
The tears are back.
“Sorry,” she says. “Want more juice?”
“No, it’s okay.”
I said it was about Toni. Everything’s about Toni. My whole life is about Toni. It has been ever since we met.
Maybe that’s not how it’s supposed to work. I don’t know. I’ve always loved it, though. When everything is about Toni, I know what I’m supposed to do. Who I’m supposed to be. I don’t have to worry about being happy because I am happy. Being one half of Toni-and-Gretchen felt a million times better than just being Gretchen ever did.
Except now I can barely even remember how just being Gretchen really felt.
“Do you think Toni will be mad when she finds out what happened?” Sam asks. “Will she throw a big hissy fit?”
“Toni doesn’t throw hissy fits,” I say, even though that’s not entirely true. “Besides, we’re on a break. It’s okay for me to do whatever.”
“Even with guys?”
“I don’t see what difference that would make.”
“Uh. Okay, if you say so.”
“Seriously. Trust me, that’s not the problem. Toni isn’t petty like that. It’s just—” I rub my eyes. “Well. To be totally honest...all along, I kept thinking Toni was going to call me and take it back. You know, what happened at Thanksgiving. Every day I thought it would happen, but it hasn’t. Yet. So now I kind of think maybe it’s not going to, and I don’t know what to do next.”
Sam sits down on the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry.”
“Plus, I used to—” I can’t say it. “Ugh, it sounds so stupid.”
“I spent the past two days listening to Draven argue with himself about which girl in Black Swan was the hottest. You’ll sound fine.”
That makes me laugh. I hiccup again and force the words out. “I— Wow. I really, honestly thought Toni and I would get married someday. You know?”
Samantha smiles. “That doesn’t sound stupid at all. I thought I was going to stay with my ex-boyfriend forever, too.”
I fix my eyes on the ceiling. “How did you deal when you broke up?”
“Oh, I’m still pissed. Just not as much as I used to be.” She shrugs. “I was really, really mad for a long time. Then I came to New York, and I realized there are a lot of guys out there. Sure, a lot of them are jerks, but some are okay. I’m glad I don’t have to stay with some guy I knew in high school for the rest of my life. I can get to know other people without feeling guilty about it.”
I can see what she’s saying. It almost makes sense.
It’s just that I don’t want to get to know other people. I want to be with Toni.
Being with Toni was the best thing about my life. I don’t want that to change.
Maybe it’s supposed to, though.
Maybe I should have listened to what Toni said that night by the fountain. Maybe if I hadn’t been so angry it would’ve made more sense.
“I don’t know what to do now,” I say.
“You don’t have to do anything,” Sam says. “Except your work. Let me guess. You haven’t studied since Thanksgiving.”
“Um. I did some reading the other day.”
“Right. So, my advice is to get out of bed, wash your sheets, do your homework and pray you don’t fail the whole semester.” Samantha stands and throws away the orange juice bottle. “Oh, and I would also advise against having sex with any more gay guys. At least until after finals.”
I smile at her. “You’re very wise.”
She pulls a Pixy Stix out of her purse and tears off the end. “At least one good thing came out of all this. With Carroll gone, we won’t have to watch The Flighted Ones ever again. God, I hate that show.”
“Me, too. Hey, can I have one of those?”
She gives me a Pixy Stix and we toast. The fake sugar burns my throat, then hits my brain with a pleasant hum. I have a new friend.
Maybe everything really will be okay now.
Maybe I can actually handle this.
17
DECEMBER
FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE
3 WEEKS APART
TONY
“No, no, no!” I shout.
The bright, empty white screen of my laptop shines back at me, the tiny, unintelligible error message that had popped up fading into nothing. Mocking me.
The computer doesn’t care how much I curse. It doesn’t care that I have a twenty-page paper due in ten minutes. It doesn’t care that my world is in a constant state of upheaval, with only one constant—the never-ending stream of work I’m still behind on.
“Chill, T,” says Ebony’s boyfriend, Paul, as he pokes at the keyboard. “Going all loco won’t help.”
“Well, I don’t see how it can possibly hurt!” I yell.
“It hurts me,” Ebony says. She’s sitting on the common room couch, typing on her own laptop. “There’s nothing you can do. Sit down and let Paul do his thing.”
I sit, but it takes all my energy to make my voice sound normal as I say, “Paul, please, please, please, please, if there is a God in heaven, please, tell me you can fix my computer. I will totally owe you forever. I’ll buy you, like, a car or something.”
“Whether there’s a God in heaven is open to debate,” Paul says. “You shouldn’t say that kind of thing to a Philosophy concentrator. If you’ll leave
me alone for five seconds, though, then yeah, I can probably fix your computer. I’ll take that car, too.”
I grab Paul’s hand and kiss it. “You’re literally saving my life.”
“No, I’m literally not. You shouldn’t say things like that, either. It’s just bad grammar.”
“You also shouldn’t go around kissing other people’s boyfriends,” Ebony says. “You’re single now, remember?”
As if I could forget.
Paul pushes some buttons on my keyboard, restarts my laptop and hands it back to me. It’s working! My paper’s still here! I want to hug him, but I restrain myself.
I save my file, back it up in a hundred different ways and send it to my Expository Writing instructor.
Then I look at my watch. I’m already late. Again.
“See you guys later!” I say. “Thanks again Paul! Remind me to buy you a present!”
“I’ll be waiting on that car!” Paul says.
“I was thinking maybe some gummy bears,” I say as I grab my coat.
“Don’t forget, the crazy girls will be here tonight!” Ebony calls after me as I run out the door. “Wear a helmet when you get back!”
I couldn’t care less about Joanna and Felicia now. We’ve been avoiding each other successfully ever since their little “meeting,” but I have bigger problems than the two of them.
The guys and I are going out to lunch at a restaurant Brad recommended. Nance is treating us all because she got a summer internship at an investment bank in New York and she wants to lord it over us.
It’s Monday, the first day of Reading Period, the week before exams. Classes are over, so you’re free to obsess over how much work you have to do without all those lectures getting in the way.
Usually no one leaves Cambridge during Reading Period. There’s too much anxiety to be had. My friends are going out regardless, though, because my friends are insane, and because the lobster at this place is supposed to be incredible.
I’m the last one to get to the train, like always, and the guys give me crap about it, like always, and then we go downtown.
I love my friends. I really, really do.
