by Isabel Morin
“What did she see?” I ask.
“You arguing and then him pulling you out of the room.”
“Oh God.”
“She asked me what was going on, and I said I didn’t know, but it didn’t look good, Hannah. The look on his face was…it was intense. It was pretty obvious there’s something between you.”
Audrey starts walking, and I automatically follow her. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for Jen to see that. She must feel so betrayed.
“I’m sorry, Audrey. I really screwed up.”
She doesn’t contradict me. I can’t tell if she’s mad at me or upset by the whole situation. I put her in a terrible position, but why did Casey have to make a big scene? This was exactly what I was afraid of, and he knew it.
We’re back on campus now, and I stop near the turn to Jen’s dorm.
“I’d better go talk to her.”
“Yeah, you probably should,” Audrey says, and there’s no softness there. She’s fed up with me.
I head down the path to Jen’s dorm and wait at the door until someone lets me in. My legs are shaking so hard I barely make it up the stairs, like in the nightmares I’ve had when I’m running away from someone and can barely move my feet.
Except I’m the enemy in this scenario.
For the first time in my life, I’ve done something unequivocally wrong and hurtful, and it wasn’t even an accident. I did it purposefully, over and over. I should have either done what I did and told Jen, or not done it, but I tried to have it both ways, and now I have to explain myself.
If she’ll even talk to me.
I reach Jen’s door and knock quietly, timid in my shame. There’s movement on the other side but no answer.
I knock again. “Jen? It’s me, Hannah. Can we talk?”
Silence.
“Please,” I try again. “Just for a minute.”
Even as I’m trying to persuade her to open the door, I’m also hoping that she doesn’t. I guess I’m more of a coward than I realized.
Then the door opens and Jen’s standing there, her face blotchy, her eyes bleary and accusing.
“Can I come in for a minute?”
She hesitates, looking at me like she wishes I were anyone else. I cringe into myself, humbled into silence, and pray she gives me a chance. She has the power to forgive me or to send me away in shame.
Finally, she steps aside and lets me pass, then shuts the door. We stand there awkwardly facing each other.
She folds her arms across her chest and looks at me. “Say what you’re going to say.”
“I’m sorry, Jen. I know you think I’m an asshole, and I guess I am, but it’s also not what you think.”
“Oh, really? You haven’t been messing around behind my back with a guy you know I like?”
“Not exactly. They were just lessons, at least to start with.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I sit down on the coffee table, because I can’t do this standing up. She looks like she’s going to say something, but I guess she changes her mind. After a couple of seconds she sits on the couch and glares at me, waiting.
“Until about two months ago, I’d never done anything with a guy. Never kissed anyone, nothing.”
She’s staring at me now. “That’s impossible.”
“Trust me, it’s not. I’ve felt like a freak since high school, and I was really sick of pretending. I didn’t want to graduate college as clueless as when I started.”
“I’m not going to feel sorry for you.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m just explaining.”
She doesn’t say anything, so I keep going. I tell her about the party and the awful kiss, and how Casey helped me get back to my room and I confessed my secret to him.
“I was scared to go out with anyone else after that. I decided I needed lessons, and Casey already knew my secret, so I asked him. It wasn’t like I was into him or anything. He was a means to an end.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing. You still kept it from me, for what, months now?”
I nod my head.
“I suppose Audrey knew all this time, too?”
“Not right away, and she said all along I needed to either end it or tell you. Please don’t be angry at her.”
“Do you know how stupid this makes me feel?”
“I—”
“You can’t seriously expect me to believe you guys aren’t into each other. I’ve been wondering for a while if something was going on, but I told myself I was imagining things. I was sure you would never do something like that.”
I open my mouth to tell her I don’t feel anything, but I’m done lying to myself and to her.
“You’re right, I do care about him. I didn’t expect it, because it’s so irrational. I mean, he’s such a player. But I didn’t realize how hard it would be not to feel something.” I shrug helplessly. “I’m obviously no different than any other girl who’s fallen for him.”
“Which you hate, because you always thought you were smarter than everyone else.”
All I can do is stare. My first instinct is to deny it but, since I’m trying to be honest, I make myself think about what she said.
“I guess I always kind of counted on being smart,” I finally say, “since I obviously didn’t have looks on my side.”
“Oh, please. There were guys who would have gone out with you. You were just too insecure to believe it. Or maybe too scared.”
“It may not seem like a big deal to you, but it was to me,” I say, angry now.
“Big enough to justify screwing over a friend?”
“No,” I reply, subdued. “But it seemed like the only solution at the time, and I was kind of desperate. I figured it would be over within a few weeks and no one would have to know.”
“You didn’t think having sex with him was going to send you over the edge. You thought you were different than me.”
There’s no point telling her we didn’t have sex, since that’s pretty much a heterosexual technicality at this point.
“Maybe, but listen, Jen, there is a difference. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be mad at me, you have every right, but you’re fixated on a guy you slept with once last year. If he wanted to call you or whatever, he’d have done it. He’s not shy.”
“Did you guys talk about me?”
“No,” I reply, because no way am I going there. “It was obvious before I ever got to know him. We’ve all been worried about it for a while.”
“You rationalized the whole thing by telling yourself I should have been over him anyway.”
It sounds pretty bad when she says it like that. I can’t quite make myself answer.
Her face is white now, her eyes bright and angry. “Maybe you’re right about me, but you still went behind my back and basically lied whenever you saw me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Do you wish you’d never done it?”
I hesitate too long.
She gives a harsh laugh and stands up. “That’s what I figured.”
“Jen, I’m sorry, I—”
“Yeah, you’re sorry. But you’d do it all over again. Not that I’m surprised. I’d do it all over again, too, and apparently, I’ve been making a fool out of myself. But at least I didn’t go behind a friend’s back to do it.”
I stand up slowly. I’m shaking so badly I don’t know how I’ll make it out the door, and somewhere along the line I must have started to cry, because my face is wet and my nose is running. There doesn’t seem to be anything else to say, though, so I don’t.
I have the door open when Jen speaks again.
“You know, I can see how it happened. I get how you made it work in your head, how you thought it wouldn’t mean anything, and then you couldn’t stop.”
“I don’t even feel like myself anymore.”
“Yeah.”
I take a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry I’m not a better friend.”
“You’ve always been too perfect. At least now I know you’re human.”
It’s not exactly what I want to hear, but at least she doesn’t sound so angry.
“Don’t use me as your excuse for not being with him,” she says. “Like you’re being noble or something, when really you’re just scared.”
“I don’t trust him, and I told him so tonight. It’s over,” I say, my voice breaking.
“Congratulations. You’re probably the first girl to ever turn him down.”
“What about us?” I ask. “Do you think you could still be my friend?”
Annoyance pinches her lips and narrows her eyes. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to forgive you, but it’s not going to be tonight.”
I’m so relieved I start to cry again. “Thanks, Jen.”
“You’re a mess. Go home and get some sleep.”
I get some funny looks as I make my way back to my room, but I don’t even care. I’m too exhausted and confused, my emotions spinning one direction and then the next. Relief that I don’t seem to have completely killed my friendship with Jen, shame over how I acted, resentment that I can’t have what I want, even though I don’t know what that is.
Every time my mind turns to the scene with Casey, I shut it down, because more than anything else, I don’t know if what I did was the right thing or just the only thing I could handle. I’m not even angry at him anymore, probably because there’s a measure of relief now that my secret is out. I’m even glad in a way that I’m paying for it. It suits my sense of justice. And let’s face it, I probably got off easy, considering.
When I get back to our suite Audrey’s door is closed, though light leaks out from the gap at the bottom. I’m guessing she doesn’t want me stopping in, which is fine with me. All I want right now is the oblivion of sleep. In three days, I head home for Thanksgiving, and I have never been gladder for a break than I am now.
Chapter Eighteen
My mom’s waiting for me when I get off the bus and gives me a fierce hug.
“You look tired, honey. Are you okay?”
I force the corners of my mouth up into a smile. “Sure. I’ve been studying a lot is all.”
It’s an easy explanation for why I look so terrible. Yes, I’ve been studying like crazy, but I’ve always thrived on that in a weird way. I like absorbing knowledge, and I have a great memory, so studying has always been my superpower. But powerful is not how I’d describe the way I felt during the last three days of grim study alone in the library, avoiding my friends out of shame for what I did.
We weave our way through the bus station parking lot to my mom’s aging Toyota. She starts the car, and it coughs and rattles ominously.
“I can’t believe this thing still runs,” I say, buckling my seat belt.
“Just barely. Last time I took her in, Stan told me it wasn’t worth the money it would take to fix her. Plus I need new tires.” She sighs. “I’ve got my eye on a used Honda I saw last week. It’s an expense, but unavoidable.”
“Does it have seat warmers?”
She gives me a look.
“Forget I asked.”
It’s been the two of us since she and my dad divorced when I was five. That same year he took a job in Chicago, and not long after that he got married again. I have two half brothers, ages ten and twelve. I used to resent the way he fled the scene, but I’m over it. We talk and visit here and there, and he sends money, so I can’t really complain.
I close my eyes as she pulls out of the lot, glad to let someone else take charge of me for a while. Gradually I relax, my muscles unclenching, my whole body softening as heat pours out of the vents and her voice leads me back home.
“Wake up, honey. We’re here.”
The ranch-style house I grew up in looks the same, though the last time I saw it there were flowers on some of the bushes and the maple leaves were casting shadows over the west side of the yard.
But it’s home, the only one I’ve known outside of Carlyle, and tears sting my eyes at the sight of it.
My Aunt Honi grabs me up in a hug the second I walk through the door and then pulls back, beaming at me. “Look at you. You must be fighting the men off.”
My aunt and uncle live in Buffalo, and I haven’t seen them since last Thanksgiving, when my face was still a mess.
“Not exactly. There was this one guy, but it’s over.”
I don’t know why I say even that much. Maybe I’m tired of acting like nothing happened between Casey and me.
My mom turns from where she’s standing at the sink and stares at me, a sponge dripping onto the tile floor. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”
I shrug. “It wasn’t that big a deal.”
My mom knows this is a lie. “Honey.”
“Anyway, it’s over.”
I can feel her wanting to ask more questions, but she only gives me another searching look before turning back to the sink.
My first instinct is to head up to my room and bury myself under the covers, but I don’t. I’ve been alone plenty, and I need to stop hiding away. From my family, at the very least.
A head of lettuce is sitting on the counter, so I pull the salad bowl out of the cabinet and start peeling the outer leaves off. “You guys going to Florida this year?” I ask my aunt.
It’s an obvious attempt to change the subject, seeing as how they’ve been driving their RV to Florida every year for the last decade.
“Second week of December.” She glances up from the sauce she’s making to go with tonight’s brisket. “You don’t need to waste your time with boys who aren’t good enough for you.”
That’s the thing with family. They think you deserve the very best, even when you don’t think so yourself.
By the time we sit down to dinner, I’m feeling more myself. I don’t have to pretend not to look at Casey, not to care, or try to be better than I am. I don’t even pretend to be happy, though little by little, happiness, or at least peace, steals over me.
But when I go to bed that night, I finally admit to myself the one thing I’ve been avoiding. Not only did I lie to Jen, I hurt Casey. He shouldn’t have made a scene the way he did, but I lashed out in a way I never have before, and he didn’t deserve it. He told me he wanted to be with me, and I threw his feelings back in his face, mostly because of my own insecurity. I also jumped to conclusions about a text without giving him a chance to explain.
As bad as I was to Jen, at least I apologized to her. I left town without saying a thing to Casey. I can’t even imagine what he thinks of me, but I know I won’t be able to live with myself until I tell him I’m sorry.
I pretty much sleep the rest of break, aside from a few hours around the Thanksgiving meal. My mother makes excuses for me when my aunt expresses worry. My mom’s boyfriend, Jerry, comes over for Thanksgiving dinner like he has for the past seven years.
Seven years, and things are pretty much the same as when he and my mom started seeing each other. They seem content to live apart and see each other twice a week, and I can’t decide if that’s awesome, or if it means they’re not all that invested in each other. Mom seems happy enough, but maybe she decided to settle, and this is where she ended up.
…
It’s already dark when my bus arrives back at Carlyle Sunday evening, and I’m freezing by the time I make it to the hill before Taylor, my hands and ears stinging because I didn’t think to bring a scarf or gloves. Unlike every other time I’ve arrived back on campus after a break, I’m not bouncing with excitement. I have too much I need to make right, too much I don’t know how to handle. The dorm looms above me in the darkness, home to all my best and worst moments.
/> My heart beats faster when I reach my floor and see Casey’s open door. I didn’t expect to get a chance to talk to him so soon.
This is it. I’ll tell him I’m sorry right now.
Only he’s not in there, he’s sprawled in the lounge next door, watching a football game with Ishaan. The scruff he sported the last few weeks has become an actual beard, making him look like a backcountry hiker. Still gorgeous, but rougher.
Ishaan spots me first. “Hey, Hannah.”
Casey glances over at me and then immediately away. My resolve threatens to crumble, but I make myself speak.
“Hey, Casey, could I talk to you for a minute?”
“I’m watching the game,” he says, his eyes never leaving the TV.
I back away from the door, my face burning with embarrassment. I should have waited until he was alone instead of putting him on the spot. I was so sure what I wanted to do—I didn’t stop to think what would be best for him. Who could blame him for not wanting to deal with me?
I screwed up. Again. But I’m going to find a way to apologize to him, even if I have to skywrite it.
Audrey, at least, is glad to see me. I won’t take her friendship for granted again, either.
…
The next night the library intercom wakes me out of a sound sleep with a warning that the building will close in fifteen minutes. I’m not sure why I’m so panicked and disoriented, but I feel even more cut off than I usually do in the library, like I’m the last person standing after a zombie plague.
I try to picture Casey and me side by side at one of the big oak tables, books spread all around us. I’m not sure we’d be able to keep our hands off each other for long, but I wish I could have known what that was like before I ended things between us.
I pack up my stuff, grab my coat, and head for the elevator, glad to see a couple more human beings get in with me. I wonder if I look as haggard as they do.
Once outside, the two of them head off into the night in the opposite direction I need to go. I stand there shivering and try to decide if I should walk back to the dorm or wait for the shuttle. I don’t love walking alone this late at night when the campus is so deserted, but I could be here another twenty minutes waiting in the cold.
