37
LUCY
MARCH 2014
I woke up to a pang in my chest, a gong striking my clavicle. My mouth felt like sandpaper, and my skin was clammy and cold. I huddled under my quilt, the crisp egg-yolk light streaming through the blinds.
I wanted everything to be normal, unobstructed, but something in the air had turned overnight. Billy was already sitting up on the edge of the bed, putting on his Chacos. I stretched my neck to look at the alarm clock, which read 7:45.
“Why are you up?” I asked him. Billy’s broad back faced away from me, and I placed my hand on the center of it, over his soft gray T-shirt.
“I have that test today, remember? I’m meeting Greg for breakfast to go over some stuff before.” He turned around and kissed me quickly on the forehead, then leaped up and grabbed his backpack off my desk chair.
“I’ll call you later,” he said.
“Good luck.”
“Oh, what time do you want to leave today?”
“Huh?” My mind was a blurry bees’ nest and it took me a minute to remember what he was talking about. “Oh, for Bear Mountain?”
“Yeah, where else?”
“Around one thirty? After lunch?”
“Okay.” He smiled. “Bye.”
After he left I curled into the fetal position underneath the covers. Half of me wished Billy was still in the bed with me, and the other half was relieved to be alone so I could think.
Billy had become familiar; I’d gotten used to waking up with him in the mornings, the clean soapy smell of his skin, his spine-tingling dimples and the way his body felt. He took me camping with the BORP, which wasn’t really my thing, but I was making an effort. Jackie said it was important to make an effort in relationships. I was trying to listen to her; I figured I was terrible at relationships, considering mine had all turned into small disasters.
I couldn’t fall back asleep, and at eight fifteen I gave up and sat up in bed. My class didn’t start until nine thirty. I peered through the blinds at the blistering sun, as one persistent thought wobbled through me unsteadily.
Stephen is in California. Stephen is coming to Baird today.
I plucked my phone off the nightstand and reread his latest text for the billionth time:
STEPHEN: I know you want nothing to do with me but I need to talk to you. I’m taking Sadie out to visit Baird this weekend. I’m getting on a plane to LAX tonight. I’ll be on campus tomorrow. I miss you.
I clambered out of bed and into the kitchen to start some coffee. I washed my face in the bathroom while it percolated.
The smell of caffeine calmed me, and I poured a large mug that I brought back to bed. I wanted to talk to Jackie, but she didn’t have class on Fridays and would kill me if I woke her this early. I stood in the center of my room and sipped the hot coffee, trying hard to clear my mind. It wasn’t like I had to see him, just because he wanted to see me. It wasn’t like I owed him that. I’d done a fine job of ignoring him all these months; I could easily ignore him for another weekend.
I pressed my hands around the warm mug, just as the doorbell rang. Nobody ever rang our front door; friends knew to go through the back.
When I opened the door to the sight of Stephen my body froze, my breath snagged in my chest.
“Well,” he said. “If the mountain won’t come to Muhammad . . .” His green eyes narrowed in the shallow sunlight. The tips of his ears were pink. Stephen’s ears.
Without asking, he let himself inside.
“Fuck, that’s some strong sun.” Beads of sweat gathered at his temples. “I think I got burned just walking over here.”
As I fully took in the sight of him, Stephen, back at Baird, inside my house, I could barely stand, my legs were shaking so badly. Sometimes I felt afraid of my heart, the way it started and stopped.
“I didn’t say you could come in.” My voice felt smaller than it had in months. I was wearing a pair of Billy’s boxers and a worn-in T-shirt without a bra. I folded my arms over my chest.
“Lucy,” Stephen said softly. He stepped toward me, and then his arms were around me. His T-shirt was warm and damp with sweat against my cheek.
I pulled away. I had to sit. I walked into my room and put on Marilyn’s cashmere sweater for armor. I sat down on the edge of my bed. Stephen sat beside me.
“Luce . . .”
“Stephen.” I didn’t know what to do. I knew if Pippa or Jackie were in my shoes they would kick him out, but I wasn’t Pippa or Jackie. I wasn’t going to kick him out.
“I’m sorry to barge in on you like this. But I did try to call and text . . . .”
“I know. I should’ve gotten back to you. I’ve been busy.”
“Busy, huh?”
“I’m going to be late for class.” I stood. His presence on my bed made it feel foreign, like it wasn’t where I’d slept every night for the past seven months.
“What class?”
“Comparative literature.”
“Yikes.”
“It’s not so bad.”
“This is a nice room, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not?” His facial expression turned amused.
“It’s not like we’re friends.”
“No, I suppose we’re not.” His eyes met mine. “It’s really good to see you.”
His olive skin was paler than I remembered, but his features were still the same; the thick eyebrows, the small bow-shaped mouth. As usual his dark glossy head of hair was in need of a trim.
“This isn’t the best time,” I said. “I have to get dressed. I have to pick something up from the mailroom before class.”
“Can I watch you get dressed?” He grinned. I wanted to punch him for the sleazy comment at the same time that I felt a familiar stitch of affection for him, for his uncompromising commitment to our chemistry. The lust pulled from deep below.
“That was a joke. Relax.” He lay back into the pillows on my bed.
“How did you know where I live?”
“Jared told me.” Jared was a guy in the class above mine, a former Chops member. He still lived on campus finishing up his degree.
“Oh.”
“Sadie and I are staying with Jared. We’re going out to his place in Big Bear Lake tonight.”
“You’re going to Big Bear Lake?” Panic shriveled my insides.
“Yup, this afternoon after Sadie finishes her visit. You’ve been to Jared’s place, right? It’s sweet. And Jared says there’s a fun concert this weekend. Wrigley and some alums are meeting us there.”
“Yeah, Paper Diamond is playing. I’m going.”
“Really?” Stephen’s eyes widened. “Awesome. Where are you staying?”
“We rented a condo near the venue.” I stared at him, aware of the danger surrounding the fact that my panic was quickly melting into excitement. A layer of fizz on my skin.
“Cool.” His eyes locked mine. “Is it going to be a problem for you if I’m there?”
“No,” I lied. “Why would it be?”
“Just making sure. It would be nice to spend some time with you this weekend.”
I swallowed at the sight of him lying comfortably on my bed, his hands interlaced complacently across his chest, and I felt the forces of hatred and love clawing inside me, fighting each other for permission.
“I really do need to get ready for class. And you need to leave. If Jackie wakes up and finds you here . . .”
“No questions asked.” He stood. “Can’t risk a Jackie run-in before coffee.”
“I made coffee. It’s in the kitchen if you want some,” I offered for no apparent reason. “There are to-go cups in the cabinet.”
“Coffee would save me right now. You’re the best, Luce. I’ll call you when I get to Bear later? How about you answer for a change?”
“I’ll try.” I smiled, not unaware of the subdued frustration my lack of response had caused him. I was proud of myself for having been so unavailable.
After he left I got dressed and walked east across campus, toward Foster Hall. I passed Adler Quad and the old badminton net and was overcome by the feeling that everything was at once completely different and entirely the same. I was caught somewhere between relief and horror, between anger and affection, the binaries slicing each other, my heart left hanging on a string. The fact that I would still be so insanely attracted to Stephen shouldn’t have been a surprise, but somehow it was, burning my insides, fogging my head, unraveling everything I had spent months mending and patching and restoring.
And I felt more excited than I had in all those months—that was the worst part. The hours I’d spent divulging my soul in Dr. Wattenbarger’s office last summer felt far away and unimportant. Thoughts of Stephen sailed me through Mr. Sterling’s two-hour lecture on postmodernism. He’s here. He’s on campus again. He’s going to Bear Mountain this weekend. He wants to spend time with me.
I was delirious and idiotic and naive and irresponsible and self-destructive, and I knew all of that. But none of it weighed anything against what I actually felt. Do you follow your head or your heart? Which do you do? Your heart, always. Right? I didn’t think I would ever stop believing that. I was old enough to know that it was a rare feeling to like someone the maximum amount. Anybody would’ve been lucky to feel the way I did.