by Kelly Myers
I try and let Becca’s excitement and energy rub off on me, but it’s not easy. I can’t stop thinking about Nate.
I wish I had never gone to this party. I wish I was curled up on his couch, watching a movie while he kissed my neck.
I shouldn’t have forced myself to attend, just because I feel mixed-up about Nate and guilty about my friends.
I check my watch. I’ve only been at the party for thirty minutes. I have to stick it out a little while longer, for Becca’s sake. then I’ll go home. If Nate’s already asleep, I’ll just reach out to him tomorrow. If his light happens to be on, I might swing by.
So we can talk. Or do other things. I don’t really care anymore, I just know I miss him.
In between songs, while Becca is distracted by a cute guy from her chem class, I wander to the bathroom just to get some quiet. I splash cool water on my face to try and bring down the heat on my cheeks. I forgot how gross and sweaty these crowded parties could be.
I wonder if there will be parties in med school and if they will be different. I imagine there’s way more options for a night out in New York City.
I should be looking forward to my exciting new life in the big city, but instead, I just feel sad. The idea of any sort of life without Nate is depressing.
I want to move onto the next phase of my life. I’m ready for it. I just also want it to include Nate. It feels like he should fit. He’s not some college fling. He belongs in a longer and more important chapter of my story.
He has to feel that way as well though. If it were up to me, Nate would be by my side as I progressed into the next part of my journey. He would be something I could come home to. It’s so strange how quickly I’ve come to consider him “home,” but I suppose some things don’t grow at a rational rate.
I have to go to medical school. There’s no way I’m giving that up, and I’m pretty sure Nate wouldn’t let me if I tried. But is he willing to stick by my side as I pursue my studies? That’s the million dollar question.
The small amount of beer I drank churns in my stomach, and I turn to push my way into a stall. I fall to my knees and vomit.
It’s quick and mostly painless, but I am a bit disturbed. I barely touched my beer. I’ve never thrown up from alcohol (I’m far from a raging partier), but I’m pretty sure alcohol-induced illness would require a lot more drinks.
I pull myself up until I’m sitting on the toilet, and I wipe my mouth with some toilet paper. Becca will be upset. She spent almost fifteen minutes debating which lipstick to let me use before deciding on the classic red. It’s ruined now.
I catch my breath for a bit and contemplate. I don’t usually get sick like this. I’ve never had a delicate stomach, and I’m not queasy. No one with a weak stomach gets serious about medical school. In a few months, I’ll be observing a professor cut open a cadaver, and I don’t expect to gag over that.
And yet all this angst with Nate has made me sick to my stomach. It’s not good. Not good at all. I need to get it resolved, one way or another.
I emerge from the stall and return to this sink where I rinse my mouth with water until I can no longer taste the bile.
Then I head back out to the party. I decide I’ve been here long enough. I’ll find Becca and Tommy, tell them I don’t feel well, and then I’ll make a swift exit.
As I’m searching the dark room, a guy approaches with a grin on his face.
“Looking for someone?” he asks.
I glance at him. He looks vaguely familiar. We probably shared a class at some point, but I can’t quite place him.
“I’m just finding my friends,” I say.
He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Hey, weren’t you in my anthropology class? Like two years ago?”
“Maybe.” I shrug and look away.
He’s not exactly being rude, but I can tell he wants me to flirt with him. Well, it’s not happening. I’m taken. Sort of.
“Well, you wanna dance? Or perhaps just get out of here?”
I raise my brows. I forgot how to the point college hook-ups could be. I suppose Nate was blunt with me, when it finally happened, but there was still that hint of danger and excitement. We had the spark. And we had the tentative flirting as a build-up. This dude hasn’t even asked for my name or given me his.
“Look,” I stop scanning the room and give the guy a firm gaze. “I’m not really interested.”
He seems to get my point because he lifts his hands and nods. “Got it. Enjoy your night.”
Then he turns on his heels and strides away. I let out a sigh of relief. I knew he wasn’t going to get too pushy, not in a room full of people, but I can tell he’s a bit miffed. Some boys have such delicate egos. He’s probably going to deal with my rejection by telling all his friends I’m a frigid bitch. Whatever.
I feel a light touch on my arm and turn to see Becca and Tommy. Becca is flushed from the beer and grinning in a sloppy manner, but Tommy is stone-faced. He’s glaring after the retreating back of the guy who just came onto me.
“He was kinda cute,” Becca says.
“I wasn’t into it,” I say. “I actually think I’m gonna head home, I don’t feel great.”
Becca sighs, but she doesn’t seem all that bothered or surprised. “I knew you would dip early.”
“I’m sorry.” I give her a sheepish grin. “I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”
“Well, this one guy has been flirting with me all night.”
I laugh at my unflappable friend. “Then go get him!”
Becca gives my arm a final squeeze.
“Thanks for coming out tonight,” she says.
“Thanks for continuing to invite me despite all the times I say no.”
We embrace, and then Becca dashes away, off to chase her guy. I turn to Tommy to say good night.
“I think I’m gonna head out as well,” he says. “You want a ride? I didn’t drink.”
“Sure.”
Tommy has given me dozens of rides home, so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. What is a little strange is the way he’s looking at me, as if there’s more he wants to say.
I start to move towards the exit. If Tommy wants to talk, he can do it when we’ve escaped the noisiness of the party. For now, my thoughts are preoccupied with seeing Nate.
It’s almost midnight, and Nate doesn’t stay up that late usually, but it is a Friday. And, as I recall, he does stay up late if he wants to spend extra time doing wicked things to me in bed.
I speed-walk out of the dorm and towards the parking lot where Tommy parks his car. I did tell Nate I was going to be at this party. He probably assumed that he shouldn’t wait up for me. Now I’m wishing I told him I was going to want to see him afterwards.
So much for getting space to clear my head. This night off from Nate has only shown me how much I want him in my life, no matter how difficult or inconvenient it might be.
“Hey, Cynthia, slow down.” Tommy reaches out and brushes my elbow with his fingers. “It’s a nice night.”
“Huh?” I pause and look up at the clear sky and bright moon. “Oh, right. Yeah, it is nice.”
I don’t want to be rude to Tommy, but I try to communicate to him that I’m kinda in a rush. It’s impossible though. I can’t tell him about Nate, and there’s no possible reason that I would be in such a hurry to go to bed. Tommy would see through any lie. He has known me too long.
So I slow down and try to look like I’m enjoying the quiet walk. When I glance up at Tommy, worry creeps into my head. He’s looking down at me, and there’s a certain expression in his eyes.
It’s like he’s been craving dessert all day, and I’m a massive slice of chocolate cake.
I’ve suspected Tommy of having feelings for me, but I never thought they were that strong. I figured we would graduate and go our separate ways (me to med school in New York City, and him to med school in Philadelphia), and he wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship by making a move. It’s just a crush, that’s all. We d
on’t have a magnetic attraction, at least not on my side.
Tommy is cute, of course, and I adore him as a friend. He’s funny and down-to-earth, and he gets me and my personality. But I’ve never sensed any raw sensuality with him. I’ve never wanted to throw myself at him like I want with Nate.
It’s awkward just thinking about, so I hope for both our sakes, Tommy keeps his mouth shut tonight.
“It’s crazy that we’re graduating so soon,” Tommy says.
“Yeah,” I say. “But I think we’re ready. You’re gonna do great in Philly!”
Maybe if I talk about med school, he will not want to steer the conversation anywhere else.
“And you’re going to crush NYC,” Tommy says. “And we could still visit, they’re not that far apart.”
“Of course,” I say.
Tommy edges closer so that our shoulders are brushing as we walk. “I’m just really gonna miss you.”
“Yeah, I’ll miss you too. And Becca as well.” I keep my eyes staring straight ahead. I’m starting to regret agreeing to this. I should have just grabbed my bike and made my own way home.
Tommy is moving at a glacial pace towards the lot, and I’m doing everything in my power to not let my impatience show. I don’t want to hurt Tommy’s feelings, or worse make him so suspicious that he starts asking questions about why I’m in such a rush to get home.
At last we reach his car, and I pull open the passenger door. Once Tommy starts the engine, I flick on the radio. I’m not usually that into music (Becca comes up with the playlists whenever we hang out), but I want the distraction.
The drive is less than 5 minutes, but it feels like it takes forever. As we turn onto my street, Tommy clears his throat.
“I saw that guy try and flirt with you,” he says.
“Oh, it was nothing,” I say. “He wasn’t rude or anything.”
“Right,” Tommy says. “I just got a little upset I guess.”
Why is this happening now? I’m all tangled up about how I should confess my feelings for Nate and what his response will be, and now I have to worry about Tommy suddenly deciding to make a move.
My entire life, I’ve put zero effort into love and relationships, and now, all of a sudden, I have to deal with two men. I guess it’s not a real love triangle though. A true love triangle would mean I’m torn between my two options, but I’m not in agony over the decision. Any day of the week, I choose Nate. It’s not even a question.
I look out the window. Tommy has fallen silent, and I hope it means he is not going to say anything more tonight. But now I’m contemplating why I so quickly dismiss Tommy.
There’s nothing wrong with my old friend. In fact, there’s a lot that’s right with him. He’s my age, and he is in the same stage of life as me. He’s also headed to medical school which means he will understand my lifestyle and schedule.
I read a study once that most medical students and doctors want to marry other doctors. They feel that only another doctor can truly understand the rigors of the job. So in that sense, Tommy is perfect.
He’s also not repulsive. Quite the opposite. Loads of girls would be happy to date Tommy. He’s funny and nice and handsome.
But would he train me like an experienced Daddy?
My stomach flips and I turn bright red at the thought. I have the absurd fear that Tommy can hear my dirty thoughts, and I keep my eyes fixed on the dark street outside the car.
No. I wouldn’t even want to call him that because I wouldn’t want to be in a sexual situation with him. He’s just a friend, that’s all.
Then again, I’m no expert on love and sex. Maybe amazing love stories can grow out of friendship. I’ve heard of that before. Everyone has. Who is to say that my gut instinct on Tommy is correct? Maybe if I gave him a try, I would be proven wrong.
It would be nice, I realize, to be with someone my own age. I wouldn’t have to worry that he was bored of me or that he was a commitment-phobe. We could grow together. I wouldn’t have to feel like some young girl that Nate is just having some fun with on a temporary basis. I know Nate doesn’t want me to feel like that, but in my worst moments, when I fully admit the fact that Nate and I probably don’t have a future, that’s still what I imagine. He’s the suave bachelor and I’m the ditzy twenty-year-old of the month.
I blink as Tommy turns into the driveway. His car wheels on the gravel remind me that Nate is right there. So close.
I automatically turn my head towards Nate’s house, and I don’t see any lights on, but I turn back to Tommy before I can get a good look. I don’t want Tommy to catch me staring at my landlord’s place.
Tommy pulls the car to a stop and puts it in park. I take a deep breath. This is it. Tommy is going to say his piece, and I owe it to him as a friend to hear it out.
I owe it to myself to at least consider this option. Before I beg Nate to stay with me, I ought to acknowledge that Nate is not the only man in the world.
Tommy looks me full in the face and drums his fingers on the steering wheel. He’s nervous I realize. He reaches up and turns the interior light on so we can see each other better.
He’s also determined.
“Cynthia, I’ve got something to tell you.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nate
When I hear the car in the driveway, I practically run to the window and peer out, keeping my body out of sight.
A million questions race through my head. Cynthia doesn’t have a car, so who is driving her home? And why did she take a ride home. I would have picked her up if she needed it. Does she not know that? Or did she purposely get a ride from someone else to avoid me?
I squint out at the car as it parks right outside. Why is it parking? Is she taking someone home?
Then the light inside the car flicks on, and Cynthia and a boy are illuminated within.
It’s her friend Tommy. I recognize him from a picture Cynthia showed me. I was curious about her college life, and I wanted to hear all about her acquaintances. The way she talked about him, it seemed obvious he was a friend, nothing more. It seemed she and Becca and Tommy were a totally platonic trio. Now, I’m not so sure.
And I find it nearly impossible to believe that Tommy wouldn’t be in love with Cynthia. If he’s spent enough time with her, surely he’s fallen.
My stomach lurches as I stare at them out in the car.
I’m disturbed by how normal they look together. They wouldn’t get stares if they went out in public. No one would mistake them for a father-daughter pair.
He’s taller than her, and he bends his head towards her as he speaks. I can see the back of his head, covered in light brown hair, and a small piece of Cynthia’s face. She’s looking up at him and nodding. Her facial expression is impossible to read from this distance.
I swallow as a deep sadness permeates my soul. This is the guy Cynthia should be with. He’s the right age. He understands her. He knows her as a friend, and plenty of strong and long-lasting relationships have been built on a foundation of friendship.
He’s young enough to not have made any huge mistakes in life. He’s not some damaged divorcee like me. He doesn’t have an ex-wife or a long history of hook-ups. He’s as ready as I once was to be a partner through Cynthia’s twenties.
Over in the car, Cynthia is nodding, but I can’t read her expression.
In a flash, my sadness evaporates and is replaced with white-hot rage.
She’s mine. She should be with me, not in some car with some idiot college guy who wouldn’t know how to make love to her properly even if he read every instruction manual on the shelf.
I don’t care if they’re just friends. I want Cynthia to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I’m hers. She belongs to me, and I belong to her. I want everyone else to know it. I want her family to know it, my friends to know it, and I especially want that guy sitting in the car with her to know it.
I clench my fists and take a few steadying breaths. It’s no big deal. She’s going
to get out of the car soon. He’ll leave. Then I can go over there and talk to her.
Except she’s not getting out of the car. She’s talking to him now. They are having some sort of in-depth conversation. I don’t know what it’s about, but I’m willing to bet it’s not about chemistry homework.
Would it be so terrible if I went out there and scared him off? I wouldn’t have to cause a huge scene. I would just amble by, pretending once again to take out the trash, and wave at them. Then I could ask Cynthia if she was ok. That would make the guy feel like an intruder and give Cynthia an excuse to get out of the car.
Then again, she doesn’t exactly look like she needs rescuing.
A thought enters my head. What if Cynthia invited him back here? What if she wants to keep chatting with him because she intends to invite him up to her bedroom?
What if she’s done with me and wants to move on to other things? I was her first, but she has a right to explore.
The anger starts to reach a boiling point. I’m angry at this guy who dares to give her a ride home, I’m angry at Cynthia for lingering in that car, and I’m angry at myself. I should have told Cynthia ages ago how serious I was. I shouldn’t have gently hinted. I should never have said all that “let’s take it day by day” bullshit. I should have just told her that I didn’t want something casual. I can’t do casual with her, I’m pretty sure it would be impossible.
I never thought I would want to commit to anyone again, but now, watching Cynthia through the window, I’m reconsidering everything I thought I knew about myself.
I’m not going to interrupt, I’m not that unhinged. But I am curious. I can’t stay at a distance anymore.
So I turn on my heel and head towards my back door. I decide to abandon the whole taking out the trash act. It’s weird to take the trash out this late, and Cynthia would see right through it.
It’s dark enough that I can just stick to the shadows. I just want a closer look. I need to see how she looks at this younger man. I want to know if she looks at him like she looks at me.
It might be painful to see, but I need to get closer.
