Chapter Thirty-Six
Gabby
Lauren finds me twenty minutes later as I’m wheeling my suitcase into our common area. She stands just inside the door and crosses her arms, eyebrows raised. “And what’s all this about?”
Setting the suitcase against the wall by the door, I push the handle down and brush the hair out of my face. “I’m going to see Jonathan. Tonight.”
She claps her hands. “Did you finally pull your head out of your ass and talk to him? Or did he do it first? I don’t care. Either way, I’m glad one of you stopped acting like a moron.”
I step back, crossing my arms. “Um, no. We haven’t actually talked. That’s why I’m going out there.”
Her face falls and her brows pull together. “That’s not quite as exciting, but still good I guess.” She looks me up and down. “Does he know you’re coming? Did you buy your own plane ticket? That must’ve cost a fortune last minute.”
Unable to hold her gaze, I glance around the room. “Oh, well, I talked to Charlie a little bit ago. She’s sending her plane.”
Lauren’s eyes go wide, and she bites her lip. “Holy shit,” she whispers. “You mean Charlotte James? Charlotte James is sending a plane to fetch you so you can figure out what the hell is going on with your boyfriend?”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
She throws her hands up in the air. “How come you got all the cool friends? Couldn’t you have saved one for me?”
“Hey!” I shoot back, feigning hurt. “What about me? Am I not cool enough for you anymore?”
Closing the few feet of space between us, Lauren grips my arms above the elbow. “You are the coolest. But you don’t have a private plane.”
“If I ever get one, I’ll be sure to send it for you when you need to fly to your boyfriend to figure your shit out. Deal?”
Her brown eyes examine mine, a hint of a smile pulling on her lips. “Deal.” She lets her hands drop and looks around. “Are you done packing? When do you leave? What about rehearsal? When are you coming back?”
Grabbing my backpack from the floor next to my desk, I open it up and start sorting through what’s inside. “I have all my clothes. But I need to get my other stuff together.” I pull out the music for the opera that I haven’t taken the time to look over. Which is unlike me. Further proof that this isn’t what I want anymore. I raise my eyes to Lauren’s and hold out the folder of music. “Can you give this to Dr. Isaacson? I’ll call and let him know I’m missing today and that I’m pulling out of the opera. But if you can take the music for me, I’d really appreciate it.”
She takes the folder from my hand, and I turn back to my backpack, pulling out my theory binder and staring at it. I have analysis homework. We’ve started covering serial atonality. We have a piece by Arnold Schoenberg to analyze. Dr. Paulsen gave us the primary tone row, but we have to create all the permutations by creating a Magic Square (no joke, that’s really what it’s called) and finding all the different rows in the piece.
I’ve started. I’ve created the Magic Square. But I haven’t started looking at the actual music. I was going to do that tonight. Now? I won’t be in class tomorrow. And if things go well with Jonathan, there’s a good chance that the next time I’m on campus it’ll be to withdraw …
With a deep breath, I set the binder on my desk. No point in completing the assignment if I’m not going to complete the class.
Lauren’s soft voice pulls me around to face her. “Are you coming back?”
“I’ll have to. At the very least to get my stuff.”
“You’re really planning to quit? Drop day was last week.”
I shrug, pretending like it’s not a big deal. But I swallow hard. “I know. But why bother finishing if I’m not coming back next semester? I can still withdraw, even if I have to pay for the tuition. But …” I bite my lip and shake my head, looking down at my backpack again. “I’ve been miserable pretty much all year. Everyone here keeps trying to tell me what to do, trying to get me to fit into their mold. And once upon a time, I would’ve taken all their advice and happily done what they wanted. Because it was what I wanted, too. I wanted to win a spot in an orchestra. To play pit for the musical and the opera. But now?” I raise my eyes to Lauren’s again. “Now I know what it’s like to be on stage with screaming fans cheering for me. For music I wrote. And I have enough money in my bank account from one quarter of album sales from my tiny royalty percentage for my songwriting credit to cover the amount of tuition I’ll owe even if I don’t finish the semester. That’s if Jonathan doesn’t insist on paying for it.” I drop my gaze again. “That’s if he wants me to join him on tour full time.”
“Please.” I turn to see her crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “Of course he wants you with him. He’s always wanted you with him. Just because you guys are being stupid right now doesn’t change that.”
I shrug, turning away to pack my laptop and some books I’ve been wanting to read for fun but haven’t had time into my empty backpack.
“Are you going to talk to Clara before you leave?”
I press my lips together and shake my head. “No. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. Probably just the weekend. I’ll talk to her when I get back. When things are decided. When I know what’s going on. Don’t say anything to her before I can, please?”
“Of course not. This is your thing, not mine. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
I stop what I’m doing and turn to look at my roommate. My best friend. “Thank you, Lauren.”
She gives me a cheeky grin. “For?”
“Being awesome. And the best roommate I could’ve ever hoped for.”
With a loud burst of laughter, she shakes her head. “Right. I think I know one other roommate you’d prefer over me.”
I narrow my eyes at her and cross my arms. “That’s different, and you know it.”
Her laughter fades, and her smile softens. “I do. And you’re welcome. Don’t forget me when you’re off being all famous and cool and shit.”
“Ha. Like you’d ever let me forget you even if I wanted to.”
Even so, our hug feels like the physical representation of an ending. It feels like a goodbye.