Chapter Eight

Harper

Nympho Nancy is haunting our dorm room more than she usually does. It’s only an inconvenience because I’m actually staying here instead of Marcus’. Also, my parents are in town. I’d rather them not have too much contact with my sex fueled roomie lest she spill the beans that I’m never here. I tap the stylus on the edge of my iPad as I stare at her Johnny Depp poster. It’s an old-school version of the man who now dresses like a pirate on hallucinogenic drugs. The scent of weed filters down the hallway and seeps under the doors. It’s graduation week and rules don’t exist anymore. It’s sort of unfortunate, because I love rules.

Marcus texts me, the message flashing on my iPad app. I miss you. Can’t you come over after your parents drop you off at your dorm after dinner? I’ll meet you if you don’t want to walk it alone. I smile as I read.

When I returned from San Diego, Marcus took on a new approach to dealing with my weird friendship with Ben. He didn’t care. Better, he didn’t bring it up, or even acknowledge it even existed. I don’t know what Ben and Marcus’ phone conversation consisted of, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Ben and I are taking a mild friend break in light of a kiss that changed the world. A kiss that I envision anytime Marcus kisses me for any length of time. It upset me for a while, then I got used to it. Sort of like a hallucinogenic freak in emotional denial. Sighing, I glance back at the poster.

Ben and his kisses will never fade, but his presence in my life will. When we don’t talk constantly or video chat he kind of fades into the background. Seeing in person how much he changed made me realize I might not be good enough for Benjamin Brahams anymore. Not in the way he was asking for. Ben’s looks and sexual presence dominate everything in the space surrounding him.

In my moment of guilt after the kiss, I also felt self-conscious. I’m still the geek, and Ben has somehow morphed into the man I always knew was inside him. We ran into one of his many admirers at the concert. She was beautiful, and I could tell by the way she looked at him, she’s tasted him in the same way I want to. As much as I try to forget the way that quick, painful moment made me feel, it validates my decision to stick to the safest path. The known quantity. Ben loves me, but I don’t think he’ll ever be in love with me. Not like Marcus is.

Marcus is perfect for me. That one solid fact stands out among everything else. This is a relationship that deserves my time and energy. He’s a man who’ll move across the country to make me happy and help my dreams come true, a man I have so much in common with, that silly memories and inside jokes are insignificant. Ben and our lifetime of memories is my past. Marcus is my future. All of it.

I tap back a quick message to Marcus using lots of sickening emojis and bounce off my bed to swing the door open. Pinching my nose, I peer outside my dorm. “Would you go outside? It stinks!” I call out, my words sounding more like a grandma sucking on helium than an annoyed woman. The hallway is empty and gray—absent of everything except the bright light that filters in from the large window at the end of corridor. Someone laughs. The volume of the music lifts in response and I slam our door.

“If you can’t beat ’em’, join ’em,” Nancy says, spinning in her computer chair to face me. “You should be more excited. We’re graduating. Let loose a little, Harping Harper.”

I despise that nickname, but literally seconds before, I was harping.

Crossing my arms across my chest, I glare at her. “I’m only staying here until my parents leave. I’m not joining in any of this debauchery. Why would I risk it?” In a way it feels like high school graduation. I’m not even close to being finished. This is the beginning of my college career. This degree is the foundation for everything that follows. “I’m surprised you’re not celebrating,” I say, lifting my chin toward her bed.

“That comes later tonight,” she says, smiling. “After you go to sleep.” Yes. Exactly like high school. “Unless you want to watch? Join in?”

I stoop down to pull my full suitcase from under my bed and rustle around until I find a long black maxi dress that’s suitable for dinner reservations with my parents. My iPad pings with a message as I’m loading my bathroom caddy and I grin, thinking it’s Marcus returning my last lewd message.

I see Ben’s name instead. Not sure I’ll be able to make it tomorrow. Sorry, Harp. My stomach sinks lower and a bit of nausea hits me in a rush. We haven’t spoken in a while, but never for one moment did I think he wouldn’t make it. Anger replaces disappointment. He can do a million different dangerous things all across the world, but make a ceremony that lasts a few hours, no? I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes water.

That’s fine, I reply back. Ben doesn’t have his read receipts on, so I have no idea if he’s still by his phone or if he’s already busy. Graduating Harvard is NBD anyway. See you in a few weeks? Marcus and I are moving right away.

Nancy is cackling as she watches stupid videos on her laptop. I have no idea how she’s graduating—how she got accepted here. She’s one of those smart people who don’t have to try. The kind who exist in their intelligence without even giving it a second thought. Ben is like that. It’s why he’s so good at whatever he devotes his life to. It’s full-minded focus. I’m not a part of that focus these days. Ben doesn’t text me back, so I take a shower and take my time doing my hair and makeup.

My mom calls when she’s outside waiting for me. I check my phone as I trot down the stairs to the exit of my red bricked building. Ben texted back and all it says, is, I’m so sorry. If I could see him right now I’d know exactly how sorry he was. The rest of the night is a blur of disappointment and agitated nerves. Marcus picks me up outside of the quad after I’ve finished dinner.

He knows right away that something is off-kilter. It’s a quality you hope for in a mate, someone who can read you without effort. “I’m fine,” I say, locking my hand with his. We wave at a group of our friends as they pass by.

Gently, he squeezes my hand. “Dinner was that bad, huh?”

The false smile I plastered on my face for my friends fades.

“Nah. I’m kind of nervous for tomorrow. Nothing abnormal.”

“Nothing to do with Ben not being able to be here for you?”

I stop walking.

I’m glad it’s dark so he won’t be able to see the multitude of emotions that are surely trickling across my face. I look at him and narrow my eyes.

He smiles. “He called me to let me know, too.”

He didn’t call me. “Oh,” I say. “He didn’t tell me why he couldn’t make it.” Do I sound desperate? Old Harper would call and demand answers. I know it wouldn’t be healthy for me to talk to him while I’m in any kind of emotional state, and guarding my heart is of the utmost importance. I can’t mess up what I have with Marcus. “Do you two talk frequently? You never mention him.”

He’s still smiling and I take that as a good sign. “He’s on the right coast. So making commencement is a possibility, but I don’t think he can be certain he’ll be able to get out in time.” He sighs. “He didn’t tell me what he was doing either. I’m not sure that’s something he can tell anyone.” Marcus’ voice holds a tinge of admiration.

Ben would tell me. If I called.

“He said you guys hadn’t spoken in a while,” Marcus edges, squeezing my hand again. “Today was the first time he called me. We don’t talk regularly.”

“Yeah, we’ve both been pretty busy. Me with exams. Him with killing people and saving the world. You know? It’s not why I’m upset. The move and everything. It’s a lot to plan for and think about.” Marcus will buy this lie. I know it. These are legitimate concerns.

He releases my hand and puts his arm around my shoulder instead. “We have this. The hard part is over now. You just have to show up tomorrow. Focus on that. Let me worry about moving. I’m the man. Let that be my job, okay?”

I nod against his chest and I’m wrapped up in his sheets, and arms, and kisses in no time at all.

++++

I’ve never been so nervous in my life. My black gown is oversized and smells like starch. The trees are beautiful in the Harvard Yard. The day is perfect, everyone is happy—smiles as far as the eye can see. I’m fidgeting in my seat as I listen to the commencement speech. My mind wanders, though. It wants to think of everything else instead of what’s happening right now. In a moment I should be proud of, a moment I’ve waited my whole life for, I’m thinking about what could have been, what should have been.

It’s all so anticlimactic in nature. Maybe it’s supposed to be this way. An indication that you’ve finally grown up and realize how insignificant you are in the grand scheme of things. When I was a sophomore in high school I researched Harvard’s commencement procedures and glamorized it in the way most girls dream about their wedding day. “I’m here,” I whisper to myself, trying to force the awareness I crave. The graduate sitting next to me glances over and quickly away. I need to stop talking to myself.

I cover my mumbling by readjusting the dark maroon swath of fabric around my neck just as my cell phone buzzes in my hand. Taking a deep breath, I peek at the phone and see the text from Ben. It’s not words. Just a photo of two horribly drawn stick figures wearing graduation caps. Hot tears prick my eyes at the stupid drawing meant to calm me. It does, though. I feel calmer.

The speech finishes and after another ravishing, uplifting speech from the valedictorian we return to our houses to get our individual diplomas and have lunch with our guests. I’m distracted, wallowing in a place of pride in my accomplishment, but sorrow that this moment didn’t live up to what I dreamed of all these years.

“We’re so proud of you, honey,” Mom says, folding me in a hug. They’re always proud. I never give them a reason to be anything but proud. Maybe even to a detriment. Do they appreciate this straight and narrow life I live less because it’s what they’ve come to expect? Do I?

“Thanks, Mom,” I whisper.

She senses the melancholy like a bloodhound.

Squeezing me a touch tighter, she says, “You are the favorite part of my life.”

I kiss her cheek and pull away. The crowd of black and maroon cascade around us in a sea of humans. Everyone is warier now than they would have been before the attacks. Large groups like this aren’t something anyone likes. Even happy gatherings carry risk and you have to balance the reward to compute if it’s worth it. I know at least twenty students who were having small parties at their homes with their parents and were forgoing commencement altogether. The thought is a reminder of my aunt, and my sadness deepens.

“Auntie would have loved to be here,” I say, my eyes turned down to the ground.

We find a bench that overlooks the yard in front of the house and sit. My father is happily engaging with any other parent who looks his way. “She would have worn something tight and then bragged when the college boys looked her way,” Mom says, a small smile playing on her lips and then laughs. “She wouldn’t have given them the time of day, though.”

My hands folded in my lap, I try to stifle all of the memories that contain my aunt. She was the first one to show me how to do my makeup, the first one to come to my aid when I chopped off my hair and needed it to look…girly. My aunt was my feminine hero—the woman I secretly always wanted to be more like. She was confident in her looks and carried herself in a way that let everyone know she knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. “I bet she’s here, though. I just wish…” My words trail off as I see him. Through a throng of gowns and smiles.

Ben.

He’s buttoning the top button of his light blue dress shirt, while his eyes scan the crowd for what seems like forever, but I know it can only be seconds. His gaze, narrowed in a harried rush, but so familiar and calming, lands on mine.

I cry. Because that’s what I do when I’m angry and relieved at the same time. Ben’s mouth quirks up to one side and the crowd parts for him. He walks toward me, I stand, his pace quickens, I take one step forward, and he stops in front of me. I’m aware people are staring at us, mostly because he’s so huge and out of place here, but I don’t care. Relief folds over me like a sedative.

I see him sweating, breathing heavy, and wonder what he had to do to make it here.

“You got my text?” he asks, breathing out.

Wiping under my eyes, I grin. “I got it.”

He takes me in his arms, pulling me against his body, and finally. Finally, I celebrate.