A Thousand Reasons

by Mariah Dietz

  “Leela, you can’t believe that everyone who has money is going to be a jerk.”

  “I know that.”

  “Are you sure? Because since everything happened with Luna and those bratty, spoiled, rich kids last year, you seem to look at everyone with money like they’re the boogeyman.”

  “That’s a wide generalization.”

  Jasmine drops her chin, her lips pursed again with impatience. “You’re the one always telling your brother that money doesn’t make anyone better than anyone else.”

  “It doesn’t!”

  “Then you need to start remembering that it doesn’t make you worth any less.”

  I drop her gaze because shame is starting to replace my determination to convince her that I don’t care or think about him. “I think he was interested, but he’s probably not anymore. He sent me a text and I didn’t respond to it, and he’s ignored me this week in class.”

  “Why didn’t you reply?” she cries.

  “I didn’t know what to say.”

  “How can someone so smart be so stupid?” Jasmine throws her head back. “When do you see him next?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Her eyes round with ideas. “Okay. This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to smile at him. You’re going to talk to him and use his name. You’re going to invite him to get coffee.” She ticks off each task on her fingers.

  “I don’t have time to go out this weekend. I have to work.”

  “You can set it up for next weekend.”

  “Baby steps. I’ll talk to him first.”

  “No!” She shakes her head with exaggerated speed. “You aren’t twelve. Pull on your big girl panties and ask him out!”

  Thankfully, a customer walks in, causing our conversation to end.

  9

  Wes

  Once parked, I wait until the current song ends, and then let three more conclude before getting out of my truck and making my way across campus. Leela never responded to my text on Sunday. Since I have class with her on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays it’s impossible to ignore her. While I realize there hadn’t been a question posed to warrant a reply, it seems like her lack of one is telling me she isn’t interested.

  What’s nearly worse than her not responding was how long I had waited for her to. I was positive she’d send me something that we could segue into a conversation.

  Class is full when I arrive except the same seat I’ve occupied since last week when we began—the one two seats from Leela and next to Max. I walk to it, wishing I were back in high school where everything was choreographed upon our last names. Where I sat, when my lunch period was, the location of my locker—was all dictated based upon my surname, McCleary. That would ensure me several aisles of separation between myself and Leela Walsh.

  “What’s up?” Max asks as I take my seat. “I thought you were trying to skip out on me today.”

  I glance at the clock, realizing I’d cut it a bit closer than intended. I look at Max, grateful for the excuse to glance at Leela without it looking intentional. “No. I just hate these professors who think everyone should sit around and wait for them. I have no time for it.”

  Leela laughs, and the muscles in my shoulders strain with frustration. I hate how much I like it and how thoroughly my mind’s working to dissect if it’s genuine.

  “Haven’t you ever heard that patience is a virtue?” she asks.

  I shake my head and look at my computer booting up. “A virtue I apparently don’t possess.”

  I feel Max staring at me, likely wondering what has me in such a sour mood this morning, because while patient likely wouldn’t be used to describe me, impatient wouldn’t be either.

  “What are you guys doing this weekend?” Leela asks. If she hadn’t ignored me Sunday and both Monday and Wednesday in class, I would probably be hoping and assuming she was looking for an invitation to hang out.

  She and Max look to me and I shrug. “Not a lot.”

  “What about you, Max?” she asks.

  “It’s Friday. I’m going to sit through this class, get home and finish all my homework while Ace finishes her volunteer hours for the week, and then we’re going to hit up a party before we do nothing for two whole days.”

  “Are you guys heading back home?” I ask him.

  Max nods. “But we aren’t staying. We’re just going Sunday. Jameson and Kendall are going, too, and I think even Landon might. If you want to go, there’s always a seat for you.”

  “Yeah.” I nod automatically. Being an only child, I sometimes require my own space. After all, it was all I knew for most of my life. When I became good friends with Max, I was already sixteen and while I had a lot of friends both in school and through baseball, I was never as close to any of them as I became with him. When we first met, Max’s eyes were wild with adrenaline as he debated if I was a friend or foe, and since that moment he’s always required a matching sense of honesty and allegiance. I was accustomed to friends who only cared about discussing baseball spreads, hot girls, and a shared dislike for most of our teachers.

  Max and his two older brothers became an extension of my family, his mom, Sharon, a prominent role model. And when Max introduced me to Ace and her even larger family, I once again felt accepted—as though my presence genuinely meant something to them. Like I would be missed if I wasn’t there.

  Max nods, reading the nostalgia on my face or possibly recognizing my ridiculous discomfort with Leela. “But tonight we’re partying, right?”

  It’s not what I want to do, but Jameson got us all to agree we’d go, and so I nod with confirmation.

  “I give it six months before Jameson starts to recognize we’re getting too old for this shit,” Max says.

  “You’ve always been too old for parties, grandpa,” I say, slapping him on the shoulder. “They’ve never been your thing.” Omit last year.

  “That’s because people act ridiculous. Stupid fights. Stupid drama. Stupid drinking games.”

  “That’s a lot of stupid,” Leela says, smiling.

  Max nods. “And that’s just a small fraction of the stupidity.”

  He’s right. I generally find myself walking out of a college party wondering what Darwin would think if he could attend a frat party. But, sometimes I need to go, because as much as I enjoy my peace and quiet, the energy found at a party is like a buffet line, filling me until the next time I have the craving.

  “But, tonight’s supposed to be more relaxed. I’ve been promised there will be minimal stupidity,” Max continues. “You should come, Leela.”

  This time I don’t encourage her to join us but sit back and watch, waiting for her reaction. Leela’s eyes flit to me, and I continue staring at her, refusing to give validation or intrigue or anything else.

  She quickly drops her gaze. “This weekend is pretty busy for me, actually.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, let us know,” Max says. “You’ve got Wes’s number, right?”

  Leela nods, then looks between Max and me, a shy smile lifting the corners of her lips. It makes me question if I’m being a selfish asshole, blinded by my own pride and insecurities. I saw Max struggle with his own self-doubt for much of last year, and hated watching him damage relationships and opportunities because he was too afraid of rejection.

  I force a smile, and when her shyness evaporates into a broader grin, I smile even wider. “You should come,” I tell her. “It will be a good time. After all, we’re only young once.”

  She opens her mouth to reply, but Professor Kline appears at the front of the class with a look that silences the room.

  “Today we’re going to discuss death,” he says, pacing to the farthest desk. “Regardless of what type of doctor you’re going to be, death will be an inevitable subject to your job just like blood, infections, religion, and fear. With your volunteer hours, I’m sure you all experienced these things, unless you interned for a podiatrist, then you probably saw a lot of athlete’s foot and bunio
ns.” He waits, expecting laughter that is given to him in an attempt to win favors with grading.

  I hate shit like this. I don’t know what I expected from this Human Behavior class, but it wasn’t psychology, that’s for sure.

  Max shifts in his chair. I know this won’t be a discussion he’ll enjoy either. Death seemed so separate from our lives for so long. There were those who were impacted and then there was us. But last year when Ace lost her father, that changed. We went from considering to experiencing overnight, and the ramifications it brought were far greater than any of us had expected—could have expected.

  Professor Kline’s words are drowned by a sea of memories, and when the rows in front of us begin to clear, I look from my blank computer screen that has gone dark from inactivity over to Max and am surprised to see his pages of notes.

  “Have a nice nap?” Max asks.

  Shrugging, I stuff my laptop into my bag. “I think we all learned no one can prepare you for how to deal with death, let alone prepare anyone else for it.”

  “If that isn’t the fucking truth.” Max’s tone is quiet as he slides his computer into his bag. “But, I think he’s right that many will be too afraid to allow their own emotions to dictate their reactions.”

  “You can’t measure or gauge fear either. That’s like those little shops along the beach that sell sea air for people to bring home. It’s a hope that is only going to end in disappointment.”

  Leela watches me, her green eyes patient as she listens. Upon first glance, I think I see a level of camaraderie in the way she’s leaning toward me, but just as quickly as I recognize it, she stands and swings her bag over a shoulder. “Have a good weekend,” she calls, sounding distracted and rushed.

  I look at Max to see if he finds her reaction weird, too, but his phone is out, and I already know he didn’t. Max can be overly observant at times, but those times are generally when there’s any sort of potential threat, a new environment, or all things involving Ace.

  Brushing my observations aside, I push my shoulders back so they pop, and elbow my friend to catch his attention before asking, “Want to grab some lunch?”

  He nods, his attention still on his screen for several seconds while he finishes a message, then he pockets his phone. “Yeah. Where do you want to go?”

  Max and I are the same. Or at least we were. Back in high school, we didn’t let a girl get in the way of our friendship. We knew it would only be a matter of days before a so-called relationship would falter. We watched our friends get involved in those mindless relationships. They’d drop everything to be with a girl. We kept our friendship solid, our priorities straight. But things changed when he met Ace. Their relationship changed him. Now, everything he does seems to revolve around her, and Jameson around Kendall. Most of the time I don’t mind because Ace and Kendall have become a natural addition to my friend group, almost like they’ve always been there. But there are times when we’re hanging out and Jameson has Kendall beside him, and Max has Ace that I begin to reconsider my priorities in life.

  “Tacos?”

  “I can’t eat another taco this week.” Max places a hand on his stomach. “Want another burger?”

  “Done,” I say, following him through a group of students.

  “Want to take my truck?” Max asks. “I can drop you back off so you can sleep through your genetics class.”

  I groan at the mere mention. “I hate that class.” I follow him through the parking lot. It’s too hot again today, and the blacktop mixed with the many car engines makes it uncomfortable and stuffy.

  Max laughs. “How are things going with Leela?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him, rubbing my chin. “It doesn’t really feel like they’re going anywhere. I don’t know what her deal is. Things at the party seemed to go well, but I don’t think she’s interested.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I glance at him, feeling like a moron as I admit, “She didn’t text me back last weekend.”

  Max’s phone starts to ring over the speakers in his truck, telling us Jameson is calling before he can tell me how lame I am.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Max says, answering the call.

  “I need to get out of here before I go postal. Where are you at?”

  “With Wes, getting ready to grab some lunch. Where are you at?”

  “Work. But I’ll head in the direction of campus.”

  “Want us to come toward you?”

  “I want you to come and pick me up so I don’t have to drive with all these assholes.”

  Max laughs and flips his turn signal in the opposite direction before pulling out. “We’re on our way to save you, sweet cheeks,” he teases.

  Jameson mumbles a line of profanity that is barely discernable, and Max speeds up to get into the flow of traffic that is both heavier and more aggressive with it being Friday and lunchtime.

  “We’ll park and we can hit up that burger place a block down from your work,” Max says.

  “The place two blocks south has better burgers,” I say.

  Max looks at me, surprise evident in his expression. “That works for me,” he says, ignoring the reason I know this. Max is like my brother, but last year I grew closer to both Jameson and Landon while a division was built and thickened between Max and me. I used to only hang out with either of them if Max was involved, but that changed when he checked out of life last year.

  We pull into a parking lot and because Max was willing to drive, I head over to grab a ticket and pay the fee to park.

  “Hey!” Jameson calls.

  It’s still weird for me to see him dressed in suits, and the way he loosens his tie reveals it’s still weird for him to be wearing them.

  “How many hours left?” I ask him.

  “Too many,” he says. I hate seeing the slump of his shoulders and deep groove in his brow from frowning. It makes me fear what will happen once I graduate. Will I feel defeated every day?

  Lunch is a nice reprieve, but the afternoon passes slower than the morning had, and by the time I pull up to the house Max, Ace, Jameson, Kendall, and Landon rent, I’m itching to continue on to the party.

  I’m not surprised when Landon answers the door and am less shocked to see that no one is ready.

  “Want a beer?” Landon asks, sitting on the couch and pressing pause on the football game he’s watching.

  I shake my head. “I’m good. What game’s on?” I ask.

  “Oh, I recorded it,” he says, taking a long drink from the bottle he’s holding and lifting the remote to the TV. He hits play.

  I sit beside him, knowing it’s going to be a Dolphins game. Landon being from Florida still watches the team closely. I’ve seen the game, and my mind is in a strange place, making it difficult to concentrate on the plays.

  “Do you miss college?” I ask.

  Landon turns his head slowly and looks at me. His lips curved with a frown. He shakes his head. “Nope.” He takes another drink.

  “Are you happy with your job?”

  Landon stares at me. Max is good at picking up on things, especially when it’s someone he knows, but Landon can read people so well you’d swear he was in your head sometimes. It’s eerie and often uncomfortable, which generally keeps our conversations both light and brief when I’m contemplating a matter, but I maintain his stare and let him into my muddled thoughts. “Are you considering changing your major?”

  I take a deep breath and then sigh. “No. No.” I shake my head. “It’s just weird to have so many people I know already graduated and moving on with their lives. It seems like half my high school class is married with kids, and I’m still in school.”

  “Are you thinking about taking a break or something?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I just sometimes get worried I’ll have spent most of my twenties in a classroom and then end up being in a profession where everyone is upset all the time. I like being happy. I need to be around that. The
idea of having a list of people who constantly want to sue me makes me think this job could be absolute hell sometimes.”

  “Maybe it’s because you need to decide what area of medicine you’re going to practice in?”

  He’s right. I’ve always known I was going into medicine. From the time I was little and my parents were flying me halfway across the world to help people in war torn countries and places without Westernized-medicine. Helping people the way my mom and dad have been doing for years is what I was made to do. Even now when I mention my concerns about going into practice, I still know I want to do it. But there is an overlying dark cloud that I can’t seem to push past.

  When Landon continues looking to me for a response, I nod and sit back in my seat.

  Landon passes me the remote and stands, disappearing into the kitchen. He returns with a frosted bottle which he passes to me. “I’d ask Jameson to make you something stronger, but figured you might need to hang out tonight, rather than pass out.”

  I laugh and take a swig. It’s not long before the concerns wreaking havoc in my mind ebb away, and I focus on the game.

  Max appears as the game ends, looking the same as he had earlier today.

  “Way to dress up,” I say.

  Landon laughs as Max flips me off. “I took a nap while they’ve been getting ready.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I take another pull from my second beer, feeling more relaxed.

  “They aren’t ready yet?” Max asks.

  Landon and I shake our heads, and I realize watching recorded sports might be my new favorite thing, as Landon pushes play on another football game.

  Max leaves in search of the others, and surprisingly returns with the three within moments. Jameson has changed out of his work clothes into jeans and a T-shirt. Both girls are wearing shorts that hit a high level of stress for us guys because we know it will gain extra attention.

  “Ready?” Kendall asks. Her eyes seem larger with the makeup she’s added, her lashes longer.

  “Who’s driving?” I ask.

  “I can fit four if someone will ride in the middle,” Ace says. “I’m going to be the DD since I have more volunteer hours tomorrow.”