And she couldn’t wait to show it to Nate.
That, of course, couldn’t happen any time soon. For the time being, he’d probably need to come home on weekends to look in on Lila, and Blythe was prepared to do the same — as much as she could. Some of her professors had already posted their syllabi, and it was clear that she was going to get the academic and creative challenges she had always wanted.
Blythe heard Nate coming down the hall, and she turned to greet him, smiling. But her smile faltered as soon as she took in the sight of him. His face was ashen, his eyes hollow. Nate still wore the smart gray suit he’d had on at the funeral — his necktie pulled loose. He still looked as gorgeous as ever, but the expression on his face scared her.
“What’s wrong?”
She watched him draw a long breath before he sat down at the kitchen table.
“Blythe, we need to talk.”
The words chilled her like nothing else. She kept her feet planted across the room from him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a vague notion told her that distance would protect her from harm.
At once, she shook off the ridiculous thought.
This is Nate. He loves me.
In a voice that was much too meek, she questioned him again.
“What is it, Nate?” She forced herself to join him at the table, and even though she was terrified, the way Nate hung his head made her reach for his hand.
His response was immediate. He pulled her hand between his two palms and met her gaze with heartbreak in his eyes.
“I. Love. You.” Nate said, pressing a kiss to her knuckles with each word.
“I love you, too, but you are scaring me…” Her voice shook with panic.
“Blythe, I love you more than anything… more than anything.” His eyes pierced hers with their anguish. “Do you understand that?”
“Of course, I do,” she vowed, her heart pounding. “That’s what I feel, too.”
He squeezed her hand with his, and she watched him swallow. He looked so pale. Nate was always golden. Where had his golden gone?
“I’m withdrawing from LSU tomorrow, Blythe,” he said, as though this explained everything.
Blythe managed a breath. Perhaps he feared she’d be upset.
“Well, maybe deferring for a semester is a good idea—”
Nate shook his head.
“I’m not deferring. I’ll enroll in UL this week, and I’ll take night classes.”
“But UL doesn’t have a landscape architecture program,” Blythe argued in shock. “LSU’s the only one in the state. You told me that.”
“I know.” He said it so softly, with so much resignation, that Blythe felt completely shut out.
“I don’t understand. What are you going to do?”
“Blythe, Richland left me the business. I have to take over,” Nate explained. “So I’ll work on a business degree… Maybe minor in horticulture.”
“Oh…” she muttered, trying to catch up. “I understand… If that’s what you want—”
Nate gave a mirthless laugh.
“It’s not what I want. Not at all. It’s what I have to do.”
“Nate, what do you mean? Why?”
He drew another long breath, and he shut his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, they found hers, and he took one of his hands and brushed her face with his fingertips. Even as her heart hammered, Blythe leaned into the familiar, loving touch. This she recognized. This she understood. She clung to it.
“Lila needs me. She can’t live by herself, Blythe. I have to stay here with her.”
It wasn’t what she expected. It wasn’t what they’d planned, but Blythe understood.
“It’s not the end of the world,” she said, hoping he’d agree with her. “Right?”
Nate’s eyes narrowed, and he kept stroking her face.
“Blythe.”
“What?”
“I have to let you go.”
“What?!” She pulled back from his touch and ripped her hand away. “No, you don’t!”
He looked hurt, but he didn’t reach for her again.
“I do. I’m not free. I’ll never be free, and it’s not fair to you.”
“Nate, this makes no sense! You just told me you loved me more than anything!” She wasn’t shouting, but only just. Blythe realized that her fear had quickly morphed to anger.
“I do love y—”
“Then we can work this out,” she insisted.
“I’ve tried to think of a better plan, but—”
“Clearly, by yourself!”
“But there’s no other option, and I don’t want to saddle you—”
“Why can’t she get some kind of aid to stay with her? And we could come spend weekends together with her?”
Nate shook his head.
“It’s too expensive. There isn’t enough money.”
“What about moving her with you to Baton Rouge?” Blyth grasped, wracking her brain for any solution. “You could live in an apartment and still go to school.”
“Blythe, you don’t understand. Even if we could afford that, Lila wouldn’t be able to handle it. She needs routine. Especially right now,” he said, saying the words so gently, Blythe felt her fury bloom.
“How do you expect me to understand when you don’t tell me anything?” She threw at him. “I’ve been here for three days, Nate. You couldn’t talk to me about this?”
“This isn’t easy for me, angel—”
“Don’t call me that!” she shouted, pushing herself up from the table. “You don’t get to call me that while you’re trying to break up with me!”
He stood, towering over her.
“I don’t want to break up with you! I just don’t see any other way!”
“I do. Let me have a say in what h-happens to us.” To her shame, her voice broke. She turned away from him and tried to command herself, but her sobs won out.
“Blythe, my love…”
Nate stepped up behind her. She could feel his heat along her back, but he did not touch her. How could he do this to them? Never in a million years would she have expected Nate to break her heart.
“Why? Why can’t we try to make it work?” she cried. “I can live with a long distance relationship. Can’t you? What difference does another hour make?”
“That might be fine for a little while, but, Blythe, my situation isn’t going to change,” he said gently. “Lila’s my responsibility. I owe it to Richland to do the best I can by her.”
She spun on him.
“I agree, but why does that mean ending things with me?”
“Because,” he said, reaching for her face again, but stopping himself before he touched her. “I’m stuck here. And you’re not. You’ve always wanted to get out. It’s all you talk about… Tulane is your chance to do that, and you know it.”
“But…”
Everything he said was true. And Blythe couldn’t stand it. It didn’t have to mean the end.
“I have to let you go,” he said again.
“No!” She sounded like a child, her arsenal of arguments empty, but she refused to give in. He might be able to let her go, but how could she give up on him?
Nate’s sad eyes held hers.
“Go,” he whispered.
How could he say that to her?
“No. I won’t go.”
For the first time, anger flashed in his eyes.
“So, what? You’re going to withdraw from Tulane and give up your Presidential scholarship and your nineteen other scholarships and come to UL with me?” His tone was harsh, cruel even. “You’re going to give up everything you’ve earned for a guy you’ve known for six weeks? Is that it?”
A guy you’ve known for six weeks.
The words stung like a slap.
It wasn’t like that. They weren’t like that. Were they?
Blythe was stunned silent. She couldn’t be the only one who believed that whether they knew each other for six weeks or six decades, they were mean
t to be together.
“I didn’t think so,” Nate said bitterly.
“Nate, I…”
“Just go… It’s over.”
Pain detonated inside her. But even as she had to will herself to keep standing and not fall to her knees, Blythe couldn’t believe him. He was upset. He was overwhelmed. But they could survive this. Maybe they both needed some time.
“I’ll go,” she said, her voice as thin as smoke. “But I’m coming back—”
“Don’t.” Nate said it evenly, but Blythe looked into his eyes and saw agony as deep as hers. He could say it, but he couldn’t mean it.
“I’m coming back Friday. We’ll talk more when things aren’t…” She drew in a slow breath to keep her voice from breaking. “When things aren’t so intense.”
Nate shook his head, but before he could say anything else, Blythe reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, moved to the front of the house to gather her purse and keys, and ran out the door.
****
SHE MADE IT BACK to New Orleans without getting a ticket, a remarkable feat since she’d sped the whole way, making the trip in less than two hours.
The faster she could get to Tulane, the easier it would be to numb herself with work. And numb was good because it felt like something dark and haunting and bottomless was swallowing her from the inside. This strange and frightening pain came, not only from Nate’s abandonment or the shock of his rejection, but in the doubt she now felt in herself.
If she was wrong about Nate — if she had been wrong about calling what they had love, then how could she trust herself about anything? About anyone?
Blythe pulled herself away from these thoughts. She went back to the mantra that had gotten her out of his house without imploding. The only thing she could tell herself — the only thing that made sense — was that Nate had freaked out.
And who could blame him? He’d lost his father, inherited the family business, and became his mother’s guardian all at once. Who wouldn’t freak out?
She had to believe that in a few days, he’d realize that life wasn’t as bleak as it seemed, that they could find a way around this mess. That love could prevail.
She had to believe.
When she made it back to Josephine Louise House, Blythe gave thanks that her dorm room was empty. Ellen had quietly comforted her after Nate’s call Thursday night, and she’d texted Blythe a few times to ask her how she was doing. As sweet as her roommate had been, Blythe wasn’t looking forward to the moment when she’d have to talk about the awful weekend.
Resisting the urge to text Nate, she opened her laptop and checked her MyTulane account. Two of the three classes she’d missed had assignments posted online. In her French class, she was to watch a TV5 news clip that her professor had linked and write a short summary in both French and English. In English 1010, she was supposed to take part in a class wiki discussion about the difference between summarizing and synthesizing.
Blythe was always one to delay gratification, and thinking that the French video sounded more fun, she opened the class wiki and started reading.
Ellen came in an hour later. She slipped into their room and sat at her own desk, whispering a greeting.
“Glad to see you, Blythe.”
At once, Blythe smiled. Her roommate was an In! Just like her. Just like Calvin. She had never been so grateful. She understood at once that there would be no compulsion to reveal all of the horrid details of the last three days, and she could share as much or as little as she wanted of the afternoon’s events.
“You, too, Ellen.” Her tone and volume matched her roommate’s, an implicit agreement that their dorm could be a quiet sanctuary in the bustle and frenzy of university life.
Each one worked quietly for another hour until Ellen rose from her desk.
“I’m going to the caf. Want dinner?”
Blythe wasn’t particularly hungry, but she knew she needed to eat something.
“Sure. Let’s go.”
They cut through the quads and walked down McAlister to Bruff.
“How is your boyfriend?” Ellen asked softly, as they walked side by side. She tucked her pale blond hair behind her ear and glanced at Blythe for only a moment. Ellen’s intentions could not be misunderstood. She cared, it was clear, but she didn’t wish to pry, and Blythe again felt lucky to have been matched with the quiet, gentle girl.
“He’s… dealing with a lot,” she answered honestly. At least as honestly as she could stand.
Ellen nodded. Like Blythe, Ellen was majoring in studio arts, but her emphasis was photography. Her talent rested in how she saw the world. Walking beside her across campus, Blythe felt certain that her roommate’s gray-eyed gaze took in more than she let on.
Bruff Commons teemed with students. The two surveyed the options, and when Blythe got into the grill line for the chickpea couscous burger, Ellen followed and chose the grilled cheese. They found an empty table, and while Ellen left to get drinks, Blythe couldn’t resist checking her phone.
Nothing.
Nothing at all from Nate. Her heart sank. She’d managed to tease her mind away from him and her aching heart for a few hours, but in all the time they’d been together, Nate had never gone this long without sending her some little message or plea for her attention.
Could he really end it? Just like that?
“Unsweet tea,” Ellen said, setting the plastic cup in front of her and pausing to study Blythe.
“Oh… thank you.” Blythe tucked her phone away and cleared her throat, trying to shake her sadness and at least pretend to be sociable. “How was your first day of classes?”
“Not a bad day,” she said quietly. “I think I’m going to like my Foundations of Photography. I don’t think I’ll much care for English 1010. My professor seems cranky.”
Blythe managed a laugh and took a bite of her burger.
Lemons.
The chickpea and couscous patty seemed to be saturated in lemon juice. Blythe grimaced and took a sip of tea. The second bite nearly made her gag, and she pushed her plate away.
“Ugh. Awful,” she muttered. “I think I’ll go get a baked sweet potato instead.”
Blythe returned to the table a few minutes later, surprised and humbled to see that Ellen had waited for her before she even took one bite of her sandwich.
“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry to make you wait. You didn’t have to!”
Ellen gave her a shy smile.
“You didn’t make me,” she said softly. “I don’t like to eat alone.”
“Never?” Blyth asked, surprised.
Ellen shrugged.
“Not if I can help it. It’s…” she paused to find the right words, looking mildly embarrassed. “It’s a thing with me. I’m an only child, and my parents are both journalists. Growing up, the times we could all eat together were rare, but sacred.”
The admission touched Blythe, and she didn’t want her new friend to feel awkward about sharing it.
“Well, I’m happy to have someone to eat with. Especially someone who doesn’t make fun of my diet,” Blythe joked, taking a bite of sweet potato.
Which tasted like dirt — as though it had been wrenched straight from the earth and dropped onto her plate.
Blythe wrinkled her nose.
“This isn’t very good,” she muttered. “Maybe we should stick to the LBC. How’s your grilled cheese?”
Her question caught Ellen mid-bite. She was clearly enjoying the sandwich.
“It’s good, but I’m not a very picky eater.”
“Well, neither am I,” Blythe said and then looked down at her tray of untouched food. “Maybe I’m just not hungry. It’s been a stressful day.”
****
“ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE alright? You look kind of… green.”
It was 20 minutes before her first class — Principles of Economics — and she and Ellen stood in line at PJ’s. If she didn’t get coffee soon, Blythe guessed she might die.
“Yeah,
I just need something in my stomach. That’s all.”
She hadn’t slept even a solid hour. Somewhere around 1:00 a.m., she’d broken down and texted Nate, and when he didn’t respond, she’d berated herself about it until after 2:00. She was still kicking herself as she pictured Nate waking up in Lafayette and reading Please tell me that you love me across his phone.
Blythe burned with embarrassment. Why did she have to feel this way? As though the very ground she stood on would cave in if she lost him… if they couldn’t make this work.
“You don’t want anything serious right now… It’ll make it that much harder when you have to break it off as soon as school starts…”
Her mother’s voice in her head couldn’t get any louder.
Blythe refused to believe that Alexandra Barnes could be right. She had to be wrong. Because Blythe did want something serious. What she felt for Nate was serious, and nothing that her mother said or that Nate did could make it any less serious.
Why else would she feel like her skin was on fire and her stomach threatened to turn itself inside out on the New Orleans sidewalk?
The coffee line crept forward until Blythe was inside the shop’s oasis of air conditioning. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“This is probably a bad habit to begin the first week of school,” Ellen mused behind her. “I mean, I can’t afford this every day. Can you?”
Blythe couldn’t answer. All she wanted was to press her forehead against the pastry display case. The guy in front of her ordered the disgusting combination of a caramel granita and a ham and Swiss croissant, and Blythe bolted for the bathroom.
****
“I’M ASSUMING THIS ISN’T normal for you,” Ellen observed quietly as Blythe rinsed her mouth in the bathroom sink five minutes later.
Blythe shook her head.
“I think it’s stress,” she said, willing herself to believe it. Stress could cause all kinds of things. Right?
“No, you don’t.” Ellen’s gentle voice was touched with sympathy.
Blythe stared at her reflection in the mirror.
“It has to be stress.”
Her roommate took a patient breath.
“Are you late?”
“Goddammit!” Blythe slammed her hands against the porcelain, making Ellen jump.
Butterfly Ginger Page 13
