by M. D. Archer
Piper looks up suddenly, her eyes locking with mine, round with surprise. I want to run away, but I can’t. A moment later, she joins me outside.
“Hi. Having a nice lunch, are you?” I ask sarcastically. “Special occasion?”
“Tamzin, what are you…? I’m sorry, this was totally last minute.”
“Don’t.” I hold up my hand.
“But…” Her eyes search mine. She has new beachy blonde highlights, scattered and natural, and her style is a little different than the last time I saw her. Prep meets grunge? It’s Piper, but like an upgraded version. The college edition.
Piper and I used to be inseparable, but the last time we hung out was super awkward. She had thrown a party for our high school gang, a sort of reunion, but I hadn’t enrolled in college yet and had just “finished up” at my most recent waitressing job. I’m in-between things, I had to tell everyone. Just sorting out my next adventure. I had cringed even as I said it. For the whole night, I had felt like a random tag-along loser who had no chance of fitting in.
“Happy birthday.” She steps in to give me a quick hug.
“Thanks.” My voice is dull.
I know when it all went wrong, too. In junior year, everyone became obsessed with what they were doing after high school, and it came as a total shock to me to realize that everyone already had a plan. They knew what college program they were applying for, could rattle off their top five universities at any moment, could gush about their dream school. What had I been doing while all this was going on? I have no idea. I must have tuned out these conversations while I focused on afterschool sports and having a good time.
Chris’s first choice was to study architecture nearby, and Piper also wanted to stay local until she applied to law school. Jade and Tina were both going for IT slash commerce-type qualifications. Everyone was planning on going to college. For sure. I was already feeling like a directionless cork adrift in the post-high-school sea, so I copied Piper and said that law was my plan too.
But then I didn’t get in.
Piper did. Chris did. Everyone got into the college or the program they wanted, except me, and that was the beginning of the end. And even though everyone treated me the same, I felt like an outsider, an interloper. A dunce hanging out amidst a bunch of future world leaders. When they all went off to college, I went abroad. I travelled a bit; I worked a bit. But when I got back, I was even more unsure about my future. Everyone else was on track to achieving [insert impressive qualification here], and I was just taking up space. I kicked around the house until Mom forced me to get a waitressing job. But that wasn’t for me. Everyone agreed—my bosses, the customers, everyone. Finally, I gave in to Mom’s not-so-subtle suggestions and signed up for spring enrollment.
“So how have you been? You’re going to City College, right? It’s so fun, college life, right? It’s even better than I imagined.”
“Um….” I shrug. How can I explain the acute sense of not belonging, to someone who fits in perfectly? Am I just overreacting because I feel so weird today?
“So, did Chris spoil you with birthday treats?” Piper asks, straining with the effort of talking to me. Inside the restaurant, Jade and Tina are leaning into each other, locked in conversation, eyes straight ahead so they don’t accidentally catch mine.
“He’s got a massive project due. We’ll do something when it’s finished.” I shrug and look down, but I still catch Piper’s frown.
“Is everything okay with you guys?”
“It’s fine.” I attempt a smile. “We’ve been together for so long, stuff like that… I don’t know. It’s just another day, you know?”
“Huh,” Piper says, nodding. “Hey, Tam, just, uh… don’t take him for granted, okay? He’s a great guy.”
“I know,” I say.
Chris is great. And we are fine. Sort of. We aren’t fighting or anything.
“Dating kind of sucks. Tinder… kind of sucks.” Piper rolls her eyes.
“What about meeting someone out at a club or something?” I say, mustering some enthusiasm for this conversation.
“Maybe. Actually, we’re all going out….” Piper’s eyes land on mine and then shift away. “Oh, I think I forgot to tell you… uh… we’re all going out for drinks this week. You should come.”
I eye Piper. This is obviously an awkward pity invite. But still, it’s something. A movement inside the window catches my eye. Jade and Tina are waving at me. They must have decided that since I haven’t gone away, since Piper is still talking to me, they should acknowledge my existence.
“Hey, come inside and join us. We haven’t had dessert yet.”
Maybe this is the way back to feeling like part of the group.
“Sure.”
Piper leads the way, pushing open the door. Jade and Tina smile at me like this isn’t totally cringey. Meanwhile, why is it so loud in here? The clang of utensils, the chatter of conversation, the banging coming from the kitchen.
“Hey, Tam. How are your classes going?” Jade asks.
Great. They want to talk about college life, and professors, and papers, and how they have found themselves, and how they realize now how much high school sucked but that it’s okay now, because they are in college and they have become real people.
“Are you okay?” Piper asks.
“Fine,” I lie. Beads of sweat pool on my forehead. My armpits and hands are clammy. Noise pounds at my head, my ears, but no one else seems bothered. What is going on with me? This can’t just be due to awkward post-high-school catchups.
“I… uh… I’ve gotta go.”
“Tamzin?” Piper frowns.
A waiter behind me sidesteps just in time as I lurch toward the door.
“What’s her problem?” Tina says from behind me. “She has gotten so weird.”
MOM POKES HER head into the living room. “Has Dana texted you? We were supposed to leave for the restaurant ten minutes ago.”
I check my phone. Sure enough, there’s a message from my aunt. “Sorry, she did. She’ll be in here in five minutes.”
“She could have let me know,” Mom mutters, retreating.
Eyes back on my phone, I double check my notifications. Nope. No texts or messages from this afternoon. What did I expect? Who does that, just leaves their supposedly best friend like that, without any explanation? I start a new message to Piper, but I have no idea how to explain what is going on with me, or how to make it better. I think I might have ruined our friendship for good.
Mr. Patch hurtles through the living room, signaling Dana’s arrival. He scurries toward his favorite hiding spot under the couch next to me but then freezes, his back arching up as he hisses at me.
“Chill out, Mr. Patch,” I say, but he sprints off down the hall to safer territory.
“Hey,” Dana calls.
“In here.” I stand up and pocket my phone as she finds me in the living room.
“Happy birthday, Tam.” She takes me by the shoulders and studies my face for a long second. Her long dark hair is in waves around her shoulders, and she’s wearing a floaty tank, flared jeans, and platform shoes. Against my flats, she’s three inches taller than me, but normally we are exactly the same height. We’re both tall, with the same hair and skin tone, and the same unusual amber-colored eyes. Looking at my aunt is like looking through a portal into the near future. Dana is in her mid-thirties, but she looks like my older sister. I look like Mom, sure, but Dana and I seem to be made from the same specifications—except she also looks like an Olympic high jumper. Me, not so much.
Dana pulls me into a hug then releases me as Mom and Dad appear, bags and coats in hands. I catch Mom’s almost imperceptible flinch at Dana’s arm, now looped through mine.
“Hey, Kat, Mike,” Dana says, then turns back to me. “Feel any different?”
I think back to this morning, this whole day really, and I do feel different. Just not in any way that I can talk about without sounding like a freak. Dana tilts her head, holding my
gaze.
“Uh, not sure,” I say, feeling even more unsettled than I did a moment ago.
“Tamzin, are you all right?” Mom frowns as she looks from Dana to me.
“Yes.” Anger flares. I’m sick of people asking me that.
“You’re still set on Chinatown for dumplings?” Mom adds, raising her eyebrow. “There are so many other places we could go….”
“Yes!” A wave of tiredness and irritation rushes through me. Can I even handle a family dinner right now?
“Tamzin? Are you all right?”
Dana didn’t say anything out loud, I’m sure of it, but I still heard her.
WTF?
“Uh.” I shake my head. No, I just imagined it. “Just give me one sec, okay?” I stumble toward the downstairs bathroom. Footsteps follow.
“Tam?” Dana says as I reach the door.
I whirl around. “What?”
“Is everything okay? Nothing, uh, unusual going on?” She peers into my face again.
“Stop it, Dana.” I pull back. “I’m fine.”
“Okay, okay… just checking.” She looks at me one last time and then leaves.
I slam the bathroom door. Why is everything so weird, and why do I feel so ragey? Is this hormonal? I do a quick mental calculation and collapse on the edge of the bathtub.
I should have been PMS-ing two weeks ago.
Chapter 2
Chris’s roommate, Ben, opens the door with a pile of toast in his hand. He grunts hello, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, then shuffles back to his bedroom. In the far corner of the living room, Chris is sitting at his desk, head down in concentration.
“Hey… I brought you lunch.”
His eyes light up at the sight of the carryout bag. “Thanks.” He crosses the room to give me a quick kiss and relieve me of the bag of food. “But I should be buying you lunch for your birthday. How was your day yesterday?”
“You can take me to dinner after you finish that project.” I ignore the question and sit on the couch as Chris returns to his desk. I need to keep my distance—I don’t know how to do this. I had managed to get through dinner last night, and even a drink with Dana afterward—sipping a sugary mocktail as I played dodge the question. She knew something was up, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her. I needed to talk to Chris first, I told myself, but now that I’m here, it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel real. Maybe because I haven’t even taken a pregnancy test yet.
I rest my head against the back of the couch. The weirdness from yesterday is still with me. As well as feeling like I ran a marathon recently, it also feels like an alien is taking over my body. Even though I only got up an hour ago, I could fall asleep right here. I shift position. Except it doesn’t smell so great in here. This is a boy’s apartment, but still. Wow. Where is it coming from? Behind the couch somewhere. I crane my neck and find the balled-up socks shoved into running shoes. They look so innocent, but the smell wafting up… geez.
Chris lets out a contented burp from across the room, already halfway through the burger. I pull myself off the couch and go over to join him.
“What’s up?” Chris asks, his eyes flicking over my face.
I hesitate. No.
“Tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Your eight hours of classes a week getting to you? I know that on top of that you have to unload the dishwasher three times a week.”
“Whatever, Chris, I’m not in the mood.”
“Hey, come on, Tam.” Chris pulls me into a hug to soften his teasing. I let him, because I know his comments are justified. He has an insane workload, and he holds down a part-time job as well. If anyone should have bags under their eyes, he should.
He rocks me gently, his square, strong body comforting me with its solidness and familiarity. I melt into him, already feeling less stressed. Chris-hugs can cure almost anything. Although normally he smells better. I wrinkle my nose and nod at the burger.
“Is that garlicy?”
“Doesn’t taste like it.” He shrugs.
“Is it on your shirt?” I drop my nose to smell a spot near his shoulder.
Chris’s laptop dings. He turns toward the sound, pulling out of our hug and returning to his chair, picking up the burger again as he checks a message.
“So… catch-up in a couple of days?” I say.
He nods, eyes still fixed to the screen. I pause at the door, looking back at him. Chris is my rock, and I know I can trust him without question. But being together forever? Raising a kid? I love him, I do.
But it hasn’t been the same since we left high school.
ON THE WAY home, I find the courage from somewhere to go to a drugstore, but not the one near my house. I take the train far enough away so that I won’t bump into anyone I know. I loiter in the aisle for ages, trying to read the labels on the pregnancy test kits while pretending to weigh up my contact lens options. I’m propelled into action when I notice the shop assistant hovering nervously at the end of the aisle.
She thinks I’m casing the joint.
“Can I help you?”
“Um.” The different brands and descriptions blur in front of me—don’t they all do the same thing? I grab a random packet and take it to the counter.
So now I’m the proud owner of a home pregnancy kit. Great. I can tick that off the bucket list. I shake my head and sigh. I should talk to someone. Piper? No, I can’t, not anymore. Dana? Yes, she is the obvious person. A grown-up, and cool enough to not freak out, or tell Mom. Probably.
Dana had just been some distant aunt living in London until she showed up a couple of years ago, but we had connected instantly. She bought an apartment a couple of blocks from us and got a part-time job teaching a writing class at the university while she continued writing historical romance novels. I don’t know why Dana stayed away for so long. When I asked, all she said was that she will tell me the backstory when the time is right. Mom won’t talk about it either.
Her apartment is on the top floor of a building on Emmerson, halfway between her office on campus and the downtown shopping and restaurant districts. When I near her door, only a few feet down the corridor from the elevator bay, I can hear her talking. I can tell by the one-sided conversation that she’s on the phone.
“She’s not in a very good place right now,” Dana says, pausing. “Can’t I tell her something?”
Another, lengthier pause.
“I just have to wait until it has happened?”
I lean against the wall of the hallway, my heart racing. Is she talking about me? She must be. And who is she talking to? Mom? Who else could it be? And what does she mean about telling me something?
“Okay, I’m coming to meet you now anyway. See you in fifteen minutes.”
I hear a jangle of keys and suddenly I don’t want her to find me here. I don’t want to talk to her anymore, not if she is talking to Mom. I cast my eyes around in panic, spotting the doors to the stairwell across from the elevators. As the door hisses shut behind me, I remember that Dana usually takes the stairs. I quickly descend a level, breathing hard at the sudden exertion, and exit the stairwell the next floor down. On the other side of the door, I peek through the small window and see her whiz past the window so quickly it’s beyond belief. How is she moving that fast?
Then, abruptly, the sound of her footsteps stop. I freeze. I get the sudden, unshakeable sense that she knows that I’m here, in her building. I press myself against the wall next to the stairwell door. Please carry on down the stairs. I sigh in relief when her footsteps continue.
When I’m sure she has gone, I walk back up to her floor and let myself in with my key. Not sure what I’m doing or why, I start walking through her two-bedroom space. Even with weirdness buzzing through me, I start to relax. I love her apartment. When I’m here alone, I like to pretend that it’s mine. Spacious, with polished wooden floors, and exposed brick in places, it’s got that dated-slash-classic New York loft-style look.
I wander pas
t her bedroom, tidy and pretty—mostly cream but with dashes of color in artfully located places throughout the room—through the spare room and into the bathroom, where gleaming bottles of toiletries line the counter like soldiers waiting for duty. In the kitchen, shelves well-stocked with spices, oils, seasonings, and expensive cooking equipment, line one whole wall. Finally, in the living room, on her desk under the window that she uses as her home office, I find something. A piece of paper. Some sort of basic family tree. It’s a strange one, though, because there is only one line, or one branch, and there are only four names on it: Clarice Bakker (1713); Tessa Henly (1902); Dana Andrews (1981); and Tamzin Walker (1998) ??
What does this mean? Why does Dana have this, and why is there a question mark next to my name. It’s almost like the list is questioning my existence, which is a little too close to home right now. I drop the note, irritated. Whatever. I can’t deal with whatever this is. My insides feel like a bag of snakes and I need to be horizontal.
At home, I crawl into bed straight away, wriggling under the bedclothes until I’m completely covered. I try to imagine life as a teen mom, but it’s impossible. Probably because I don’t even know for sure yet. An idiotic thought, that if I am pregnant at least I won’t have to wonder what to do about college, pops into my head.
Ugh. How did this happen? How am I facing the two—unrelated—possibilities of being pregnant and dropping out of college? I didn’t think I was a loser, but maybe I am. Maybe I don’t have any sort of greater destiny or purpose in life. Maybe I should give in to it, drop out of college and take the first job that I get offered.
I shake my head.
No.
I have been drifting, sure, but no. It’s all going to change tomorrow. When I wake up tomorrow, I won’t be so tired I can hardly breathe, and I will get my period and realize it was just stress making me late. Then I will study super hard for that test and I won’t have to drop out of college.
