It was another ten minutes of discussion before a clear decision was made: they’d revisit it later.
“Sorry,” Jessica said, standing. “I have to go to bed. I’m falling asleep.”
“No problem,” Kate replied. “Pick up again tomorrow?” She looked around the table and the other sisters nodded. They didn’t look as tired as Jess, but they looked equally as relieved to be dismissed to their own devices on a Friday night. Pippa, Jamie, Andrea, and Jane made straight for the front door.
They probably have somewhere fun to go. But no, she was too tired to even feel sorry for herself, and all she felt when she thought about not having somewhere else she needed to be right now was, Oh thank whoever!
Stretching her neck gently and yawning, she headed into the house’s master bedroom, which she had all to herself and had only put up half a fight about when Kate had insisted it be hers on move-in day. On the one hand, being treated different, as if she were superior, was isolating. On the other hand, she didn’t mind being isolated in her own room. Sharing a dorm with Kate hadn’t been as bad as with Leslie, but it still sucked compared to not sharing a bedroom with anyone. The bedroom debate wasn’t one she thought she could win anyway. So the rest of the girls shared the remaining six bedrooms of the gigantic house, with Kate outfitting what was supposed to be a small den downstairs into her own personal space.
Jessica shut the door and made for the attached bathroom when she heard a tap on her bedroom window. Shit. She’d been meaning to see if anyone’s boyfriend would come trim the trees near the house, but she kept forgetting. That better not keep her up all night.
When she heard it again, though, she began to doubt that a tree would knock in such a rhythm. She approached the window and drew the blinds. A face stared back and her and she gasped and regained control of her bladder just in the nick of time. Turns out her kegel exercises hadn’t been a complete waste.
Chris stared back at her, his nose scrunched apologetically. He mouthed sorry, presumably for almost scaring the piss out of her. What did he want?
She went to open the window, but he quickly pointed to the side, toward the front of the house. She nodded.
Heart still racing from the scare, she tried to compose herself before speaking to her ex, who she hadn’t spoken to in months. Not since she’d broken his spirit behind a dumpster like a real class act.
When she opened the front door, Chris was already waiting. His natural confidence appeared to have been sandblasted away.
“You actually answered the door,” he said.
“Of course. You drove out here and knocked on my window. You think that doesn’t make me a little curious? What do you want?” Not feeling keen on inviting him inside but equally as unenthusiastic about conducting a doorway conversation, so she stepped out into the muggy heat and shut the door behind her.
She inhaled deeply and crossed her arms over her chest. She wouldn’t be the first one to speak.
But Chris wouldn’t be either, apparently.
For shit’s sake. “Yes?”
She wondered if he would still refuse to say anything, but then it all came tumbling out. “I just can’t do it anymore, Jess. It’s been months. Not talking to you at all is killing me. I love you, Jessica. I’ll do anything for you. Just please don’t keep me out of your life.” The light from inside shining out onto the front porch where they stood feet apart reflected off the moisture in his eyes.
Oh boy.
“I’m with Mason,” she said, and immediately added that sentence in this context to her list of reasons why people would hate her. She’d have to remember to mention it at tomorrow’s meeting.
“I know. And if that’s what you want, then I support it. And if what you want is for me to stop trying to get you back, I can do that, too. But there’s something inside me that has to be around you. I don’t know what it is”—Jessica had a suspicion she knew what it was—“but it feels like life or death.” He caught himself finally, and reeled it in with a heavy sigh. “And I know I fucked up when I called Jimmy, and I know I was being a prick about Mason, so I wanted to make it up to you.” He reached in the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a cell phone, holding it out to her. “It’s for you.”
She stared down at it, trying to make sense of it. “Uh, I already have a phone.”
He wasn’t deterred. “I know, I know. But I got a new number for you. It’s paid up for the next year. I added in all the contacts you need, like your mom and Miranda and Quentin and Maria and Wendy and your sorority sisters and”—he flexed his jaw—“Mason. No one knows the number. Not even me. And definitely not Jimmy.”
She took the phone, staring down at it.
“You get to decide who you talk to with this phone. Keep your old one, but you can stuff it in a drawer if you want and never touch it.”
While her mind struggled to wrap itself around all the benefits and implications of this gift, the gesture seemed like a good one. Maybe the best one. Shit. Had Chris thought of this himself? “Thanks.”
“That’s it,” he said. “That’s what I came here for. To give you that. You deserve to have a little control over who’s in your life. That includes me.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and she could feel him staring at her, though she kept her eyes glued to the gift. “My number’s in there, too, just in case. So if you think we could be friends again, you can … you know.”
Jess wanted to look up at him, but her better judgment warned against it. She never made great decisions when tired. Well, she rarely made good decisions, period, but she made notably worse ones once her mind began projecting pillow-related fantasies on the inside of her skull. So she knew better than to look him in the eyes. Chris’s puppy eyes were dangerous. And right after they’d welled up with tears from his undying love for her? Yeah, she wouldn’t stand a chance. Old habits would come crashing down on her and it would likely take fewer than ten seconds before he was dry humping her in a totally consensual manner on the front lawn.
She couldn’t have that. Mason was a good boyfriend. He hadn’t betrayed her. He wrote songs about her. She had no reason to end things with him.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
Chris sucked in air, puffing up his chest and holding himself at full height, his hands still shoved in his jeans pockets. “Cool. Well, um. Hopefully we can talk again soon.”
She nodded and he headed off toward his truck.
Clutching the new phone in her hand, she turned and headed back into the house. Kate was waiting on the couch in the living room with a sad smile. “Sorry,” she said. “When he asked for all the numbers, I thought it was the sweetest thing I’d ever heard. So I gave them to him.”
Jessica nodded stiffly. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”
Kate jumped up from the couch and ran over. “What? Is your left arm tingling?”
“Huh? No. Is that part of a heart attack?”
Kate took a step back and relaxed slightly. “Yes. I don’t think you’re having a heart attack, Jessica.”
“Is it bad that I wish I was? I feel like I deserve a heart attack.”
“I get it. But you don’t deserve it. You get to make the choice that’s best for you.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” She approached the window by the door and peeked out. Chris’s truck was still there, the parking lights on as the familiar thrum of it idling eased the knot in her chest. As an experiment, or at least that’s what she told herself it was, she mouthed, I forgive you.
The parking lights turned off and then the truck reversed and disappeared from sight.
“I know you said to gather my tribe, but I’m wondering if it’s too late to disband my tribe.” Jessica played with her fingernails in her lap as Dr. Bell listened patiently.
“You don’t want friends?”
“No, that’s exactly what I want. But does it have to be so structured? We had elections this week. Elections! I know I’m not a friendship expert, but having elections doesn�
��t seem like what most friends do.”
Bell nodded. “You’re right. Most circles of friends have much more loosely defined roles. And then there are power struggles and doubts and plotting and so on.”
“So you think friend elections are good?”
Bell laughed. “I don’t know. But clearly defined roles can take the stress out of things. I assume you’re president?”
Jess rolled her eyes. “Of course. Uncontested. Kate is vice president, Natalie is treasurer, Judith is secretary, even though she didn’t really want to be, and then … I don’t remember the rest of the titles. Everyone has one, though.”
“Angels love their titles.”
“I wish Kate had rounded up more non-angels. I kind of feel bad for Judith. She doesn’t even know she’s so outnumbered.”
“I agree with you there, but there are worse things to be outnumbered by than angels.” Bell reached below her desk and grabbed a small lunchbox from which she pulled her morning protein shake and twisted it open. “Tell me, Jessica, do you want to be a messiah by profession?”
Jessica let her bemusedly cocked eyebrow and stuck-out lips do the talking for her.
“Right, so here we are, first week of your junior year, and you have yet to officially declare a major. You understand this is problematic if you want to be anything other than a professional messiah, right?”
“I know, I know. I’ve just been busy with this sorority stuff, and it’s been kind of a relief, honestly, to not think about my future, which likely culminates in a horrific death scene. I spent most of my childhood thinking about my death, did you know that? That’s what awaits me in my future.”
“That’s what awaits everyone in her future.”
Jess opened her mouth to respond, but her brain caught up with her before she could. “Yeah, okay. Sure. But not everyone has to worry about it being when they’re in their thirties and involving torture and humiliation and a goddamned crucifix.”
Bell nodded sympathetically. “True, true. And now remind me why you have to worry about that?”
“Because that’s what happened to Jesus.”
Bell leaned forward. “True. And?”
“And that’s what will probably happen to me.”
Bell shook her head. “You’re taking quite a few logical leaps to arrive at that conclusion, Jessica. Realistically speaking, in the time between when Jesus died and now, there have been thousands if not millions of deaths more grizzly than his, and millions of people have died before their thirties. And they weren’t even messiahs.”
“Are you trying to make me feel better?” She squinted at the professor.
Bell leaned back in her chair. “Yes. Because on the flip side, millions have died peacefully in their sleep at a ripe old age, having lived a happy life. So what I’m saying is that you can’t focus on a single data point and call it a trend. If you don’t understand that, I’m a little concerned about having given you an A in macroeconomics.”
“But it’s the only data point I have.”
“Then your criteria is too narrow.”
“Hmm … I guess you’re right.”
Bell smiled, her boxy jaw jutting out as she did so. “I am right. This is the point where you get to be relieved because I’ve just disproven a presumably long-standing neurosis of yours.”
Jess chuckled. “Yeah, okay. I’m relieved.”
She felt her phone buzz in her back pocket, slipped it out, and answered it without thinking. Before she could even finish saying hello, the voice on the other end interrupted.
“A forward to my book, that’s all I ask.”
“God dammit, Jimmy. No.”
“Just a short forward. It can say whatever you—”
She hung up and threw the phone in the main compartment of her messenger bag, hoping it might get crushed by accident.
“I thought Chris gave you a new phone,” Bell said, appearing concerned.
“He did. I just can’t bring myself to use it, for some reason. Wait.” She eyed her professor. “I didn’t tell you about that.”
Bell chugged casually from her shake before responding. “I thought we’d already covered this: you’re essentially surrounded on all sides by angels.”
Jessica sighed. “I don’t know how I feel about y’all plotting behind my back.”
“You’re welcome. What did he want this time?”
Jess shrugged. “A forward for his book? Ugh. This probably doesn’t bode well for me, does it?”
“The Great and Holy Mayor Reverend Dean writing a book? No, this will not work in your favor. But”—she paused, holding up a finger while considering her words—“you might consider writing one yourself.”
“Nope. Not gonna happen.”
“Here’s the thing, though. Someone is going to write your story. Someone might already be. It could be what Jimmy’s book is about, for all you know. If you don’t want to write it yourself, fine, but you might consider finding someone you trust to write it for you. Otherwise your unofficial biographies are all that people will have to go on. You have to take control of your own narrative.”
“You’re starting to sound like Wendy now.”
“That’s because Wendy is right.”
A new question occurred to her for the first time. “Is Wendy an angel?”
Bell shrugged. “I’d have to meet her in person. But probably.”
“Right. That. Hm.”
“While I have you—and I hate to beat the dead horse here—but any more thought about your major?”
Jessica groaned. “No.”
“Oh come on, what do you like to do? Maybe something you’ve enjoyed since you were a child. There has to be something.”
Nodding, Jessica inhaled deeply. Why was it always so hard to mention this to people? Surely there was no shame in watching predators hunt and endangered species mate. Both of those things should be celebrated, if she was entirely honest. But still, it felt weird talking about it with another person. Dr. Bell was just trying to help, though, so she opened herself up the smallest bit. “There’s only one thing I can think of.”
The professor’s eyebrows slowly slid up her forehead. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Nature shows.”
“Nature shows.” When it didn’t seem to be sinking in, Jessica regretted mentioning it at all, then Dr. Bell added, “Oh, well that’s perfect. We have a great biology program here, if you want to do zoology or—”
Jessica shook her head firmly. “No way. I’ve already ruled that out. I took a biology class last semester and it almost ruined the shows for me. They started making me anxious instead of relaxing me. I ended up dropping bio about four weeks in.” After all, if she didn’t have Sir David Attenborough as a constant in her life, what did she have? Imagining her future was never an especially fun exercise, but to have to imagine it without him? No, that was just … too much.
Dr. Bell surprised her by nodding sympathetically. “Ah, okay. Nature shows are something you’re passionate about. Yeah, I never recommend students major in something they’re actually passionate about. Keep your passions pristine and intact until you’ve graduated. Majoring in them is like putting a pillow over their face while they sleep.”
Then Bell stood and tossed the empty protein shake bottle into the recycling bin by the door. “Class time. Yay summer school.”
Jessica stood as well, thankful she didn’t have summer classes piled on top of her sorority responsibilities.
“Next time I see you, you better have a major picked out, or I’ll pick it for you.” Bell gathered her things and walked into the hall alongside Jessica.
“Let me guess,” Jessica said, “business?”
“Damn straight it would be business.”
“Because money and religion mix so well?” she asked flippantly.
Bell shrugged. “If you’re going to be a professional messiah, you might as well be a rich one.”
Jess’s lip curled at the thought and waved good-by
e.
Why was deciding on a major so hard? Other people made it seem easy. How did everyone else figure out what to study? Ugh, probably prayer. She gave it a shot.
What should I study?
She was shocked when she actually received a reply.
DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW?
That’s why I asked.
FINE. BUSINESS.
It seems like you’re just saying that because Dr. Bell said it.
AND CULINARY ARTS.
She groaned. Okay, now you’re just screwing with me.
SHE OF LITTLE FAITH.
Jessica rolled her eyes before heading to the student center to hitch a ride home with Pippa.
Prayer was just as useless as ever. But she acknowledged the comfort that went along with having certain things in her life that never changed.
The yeasty smell of the first batch of warm rolls filled the kitchen in the Nu Alpha Omega house, drawing Jessica’s mind straight back to Mrs. Mathers and her bakery. She wondered if Mrs. Mathers was still alive. Destinee probably would have mentioned it if she wasn’t, since that was what most phone calls with her mother included: a roll call of Mooretown’s dead, fled, and knocked up.
All hometown gossip aside, nothing quite comforted Jessica on a soul level like the smell of fresh-baked bread. Even if it was just some store-bought dough that had been popped out of a tube, rolled into crescents, and then stuck in the oven on a cheap baking pan that looked more carcinogen than metal.
The afternoon had been a long one, spent dallying over details on this procedure or that bylaw, getting everything in order and everyone on the same page before the spring-loaded brick wall of pledge season hit them all smack in the face. The first semester of recruiting and hazing pledges was no small matter, it seemed. There were chants to write and house rules to establish, there were T-shirts to design and mission statements to pore over until a clear one could be fleshed out from the scraps of a dozen others.
It wasn’t fun. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Why anyone wanted to do this was beyond Jess. But after three months of her feigning interest, and poorly, the rest of her sisters had stopped bothering her with questions and just told her what they’d decided. When none of it struck her as particularly bad, she would grin, give two thumbs up, and over time she was allowed to transition into the unofficial meeting caterer, preparing meals while the others hashed out the boring stuff. Everybody seemed happy with this arrangement, not least of all Kate, who was a natural in the leadership position.
Nu Alpha Omega Page 27
