by Whitney G.
Yes. It was just sex.
I was hoping that the words were just a cruel joke, because I still couldn’t believe he felt differently than I did.
I’d thought the way he looked at me when we made love meant something, that the way he treated me (better than anyone he’d ever dated) was indicative of something more. Something much more between us.
“Here you go.” A flight attendant set another packet of Kleenex in my lap. “Would you like another cup of juice?”
“No.” I sniffled. “I’m …” I paused. I would probably never see her or any of the people on this plane again in my life. “Can I have two glasses of your hardest liquor? Actually, can you make that four?”
She looked as if she was going to recite some company line, but she smiled instead. “Be right back.”
Turning to face the window, I stared at the wing of the plane as it cruised through clouds. I hoped that four glasses of alcohol would be enough for me to sleep through the remaining hours of this flight, without dreaming.
Then again, if I did, I hoped that the images would show me going back in time and not talking to Carter as much. Maybe if we’d never had the opportunity to cross the line, this never would have happened.
I scrolled through my memories with him, pinpointing one that would’ve definitely prevented my heartbreak. It wasn’t erasing any of our nightly phone calls or the emails, or hanging around him when we were in high school; it was making the decision to go to a college near his.
I should’ve never done that.
Freshman Year
Carter
Subject: Star Status
Dare I ask how many women you’ve attempted to sleep with since you’ve started the semester? If I see another commenter on Facebook talk about how “sexy” you are on your profile picture, I will scream. (Why are you using that picture of us anyway? And what the hell is up with that CAPTION???!!)
Arizona
Subject: Re: Star Status
The word “attempt” implies that I actually have to try to sleep with someone here. I don’t. You’re only upset because none of the commenters are leaving compliments about you. (I like that picture of us in eleventh grade. No one will ever know what “Beat her to it. Best twenty dollars I ever won” means.)
Sincerely,
Carter
I put my phone away and focused on the girl who was sitting at my table.
Earlier today, she’d claimed to have no idea who I was, but the first question out of her mouth was, “Do you think you’ll go pro after college?”
Hell no. “Anything is possible,” I’d responded. “I’m only focusing on the present.”
Now, our main conversation points were all used up, and I was just waiting for her to get to the inevitable ending for our night.
“So,” she said. “When you’re not hanging out with your basketball friends, who do you hang out with?”
“Myself, really,” I said. “I don’t really have time for much else.”
She frowned and stood up, moving so she could sit right next to me. “That’s so sad. You don’t have any real friends? People outside of your teammates?”
“Not at the moment, but I’m sure I’ll make some eventually.”
“Why not start with me?” She bit her lip and rubbed my thigh under the table. “As a matter of fact, I think you and I can be best friends.”
“Becoming best friends takes a lot of time.” My cock hardened as she caressed it through my pants. “I’m not sure I’ll have much of that when the season starts.”
“You have to sleep somewhere at night, right?” She bit her lip again. “I’ll be there for you whenever you need me … Want me to show you how good it could be, future best friend?”
“I would.” I smiled. “Tell me when.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight works.”
“Okay.” Satisfied with my answer, she smiled wider and got up. “I’m going to tell my friends I’m leaving. You think you’ll be ready to go by the time I get back?”
“Most definitely.”
She blushed and walked away, and I signaled to the waitress for the check. Then I pulled out my phone, noticing another email from Arizona.
Subject: Scheduling Time.
Now that you’re going to be a huge basketball star, I guess I’ll have to start making appointments to come see you. How far out into the year are you booked with groupies? Or do I need to go through your “people” for things like this?
Rolling my eyes,
Arizona
Subject: Re: Scheduling Time.
You wouldn’t have to make appointments to see me at all, if you’d chosen to go to a closer school. You hate snow and rain, so you should’ve never agreed to go the University of Pittsburgh.
Sincerely,
Carter
Subject: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.
I know. Which is why I just transferred. Well, THAT and other stupid things … Ugh. I know it’s sad that I only lasted a month, but I couldn’t stand the dreariness, and that professor I was adamant about learning from? Apparently, he got this huge book deal before the semester started and is stepping down from teaching for two years, so he can finish it.
Please don’t tell me ‘I told you so’.
Regretting things,
Arizona
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.
I fucking told you so.
Sincerely,
Carter
PS—What school are you transferring to?
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.
Reeves University. Seven minutes away from your precious South Beach University.
I’m actually here right now unpacking. God, I missed the beach!
Will call you when I get more done.
Arizona
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.
No need. I’ll come help you. Send me your address.
Sincerely,
Carter
I wrote a “something came up” on a napkin for my “future best friend,” and headed straight to the address Ari texted me. It was exactly seven minutes like she said, and just like my dorm, it was steps away from the beach. Unlike my dorm though, where everyone had a roommate, it seemed as if all the suites in Ari’s dorm were singles.
I didn’t bother knocking on her already open door. “Ari?”
“I’m back here!” She yelled.
I stepped past the closet and saw her folding clothes on the bed.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were here? I would’ve helped you move your stuff.” I asked.
“Because the week I made my decision, you were on ESPN’s college channel with your teammates, talking about how explosive a season this was going to be, how many intensive practices you were looking forward to. I figured you’d be busy. No practice today?”
“No.” I looked around her room. “I just had a date.”
“How’d it go?”
“If I’m here talking to you, how do you think it went?”
She threw a pillow at my face. “Nice seeing you again, too! You want to make yourself useful and actually help me unpack? Could you unload all my books?”
“Sure.” I opened the labeled box and started sorting them. “Within the entire month that you wasted in Pittsburgh, did you do anything worth talking about?”
For the next few hours, we caught up on all the little details that’d slipped through emails and text messages, all the insignificant things that were now seemingly important. And by the end of the night, we’d almost unpacked most of her things.
“Are there any good places to eat on campus?” she asked, yawning. “If not, would you mind driving back to our neighborhood, so we can eat at Sam’s?”
“There’s actually this place called Gayle’s I think you’ll like.”
“Gayle’s? It sounds like an old fashioned diner.”
“It is, but the food is perfect. They serve just as many flavors of yogurt as they do of i
ce cream, and their waffles are ten times better than Sam’s.”
“I refuse to believe that … Do they have a candy bar?”
“They do.”
“What about breakfast at all hours of the day?”
“Definitely.”
“Okay, fine.” She smiled. “I’m sold, but if I don’t like it, you have to pay.”
“I was going to pay anyway.” I pulled out my car keys. “Let’s go.”
Minutes later, we were seated in a booth at Gayle’s—arguing over stupid things like old times and looking over the extensive dessert menu.
“So, is this why you’ve been turning down every girl that approaches you in here, Carter?” The only waitress I’d ever seen in this place stepped in front of us. “Is this your girlfriend?”
“Ha! Never.” Ari laughed. “I’m Arizona. His best friend.”
“Since fifth grade,” I said.
“Fourth grade, Carter.” Ari countered. “It was fourth grade.”
“No, I couldn’t stand you in fourth grade.”
“Well, I personally can’t stand you sometimes now, but it still counts as us being friends, doesn’t it?”
“Best friends, huh?” The waitress rolled her eyes. “Okay … I’ll buy that for now … What do you want to order?”
“A Belgian waffle with vanilla yogurt and strawberries—with a sprinkle of chocolate chips,” Ari said.
“A waffle tower with chocolate yogurt, peanut butter, and a sprinkle of Oreo chips and candy on the side” I said, waiting for her to walk away. “For the record, Ari, just so we’re clear, it was definitely fifth grade.”
“Are you really going to start an argument with me over this?” She crossed her arms. “Do you really think I’ll ever let you win this? It was fourth grade, Carter. Fourth. Grade.”
“I’ve got all night …”
Track 22. Two is Better than One (3:58)
Carter
Subject: Landed
In France. Talk to you soon.
Arizona.
PS—I have my international minutes but no adapter to charge my phone. Sigh. I’ll call you after I figure out where to buy one …
Subject: Re: Landed
Glad you had a safe flight.
Sincerely,
Carter
PS—Looking forward to talking.
She never called.
Never emailed, either.
It’d been three weeks since our last email exchange, three weeks since I last kissed her lips, and life without her at home was taking a lot more time to get used to than I’d originally anticipated. Our usual weekends together at the beach became moments alone for me to study. Our emails about the little things became nothing at all. And instead of buying her breakfast at Gayle’s all the time, I was buying it for our own waitress who, ironically, had never eaten the diner’s food.
I was waking up every morning—reaching for her, rolling over in bed at night to pull her closer, but she was never there. That ache in my chest from the day at the airport intensified each day she didn’t call, and a part of me was starting to wonder if I’d said the right thing after all …
I checked my email and physical mailbox incessantly, hoping to hear something—anything, and after not being able to take it anymore, I decided to pen my letter first …
Three Weeks Gone
Carter
Dear Arizona,
I haven’t heard from you since you landed, so I hope you don’t mind that I’m writing you first. I’m not sure when exactly you’ll get this, and since it’s been a while since I actually wrote one of these by hand, I’ll try to do my best …
Law school will be starting in a month, and you’ll be proud (and slightly shocked, I’m sure) to know that I completed all of the required reading and turned in all of the required reports already. Josh has yet to start reading the first book, but he’s assured me that he’ll get it done somehow …
Since you’re not here, I’ve been treating our usual waitress to Gayle’s instead. How ironic is it that she’s never eaten there/never really wanted to? She’s hooked now, though. She’s also told me that the owner is considering renovating the place to make it bigger for the onslaught of tourists. If he does, I’ll send you pictures.
Speaking of pictures, here are a few of the beach and a few of the ones we took at the marina together before you left …
Not sure what else I should say right now, but I miss you (a lot …) and hope you’ll come home for that fall break that your school gives you. I also hope you’ll respond to at least one of my emails … I’ve sent you quite a few …
Write back and tell me how everything is going with you.
Hope you’re okay.
I really do miss you …
Sincerely,
Carter
Dear Carter,
I am okay. Glad to hear you are well.
Thanks for your letter,
Arizona
Dear Arizona,
Did you seriously waste an international stamp and three weeks of shipping time to send me that short ass letter? (Also, do you still not have internet? Can you not answer emails?)
Sincerely,
Carter
Dear Carter,
I apologize for the brevity of my last letter. It wasn’t intentional, I promise. I appreciate the photos you sent (I hung them up on my wall) and I wasn’t shocked that you finished your required reading in advance at all. (You got a 180 on the LSAT … I would be more shocked if you didn’t get it done.)
I am actually quite miserable here and I think I might’ve taken that out on you a little bit, so I’m sorry. The classes here are super intense, from six in the morning until six in the evening, and after that, we’re required to attend workshops that can last anywhere between four and five hours, so I usually just pass out.
I ordered a charger for my phone from amazon.com, but they sent me the wrong one by mistake. Two times in a row, so I’m hoping the correct one arrives soon.
My roommate is a jerk who barely talks to me, so I’ve decided to ignore her altogether.
I don’t really have much else to say, but I promise to call you and do better with emails …
Thanks for your letter,
Arizona
Track 23. Treacherous (3:39)
Arizona
I can’t do this …
I logged into my email account and saw that Carter had sent me over fifty new emails since I’d come to France. My mouse hovered over the first message—Subject: Truly Missing My Best Friend, but I couldn’t open it.
It’d been hard enough responding to that first letter of his—that generic “Let’s just act like nothing ever happened between us” bullshit, so I shut off my computer and got into bed.
My days were now a lot shorter without talking to him, a lot less memorable and trivial, too. But I couldn’t sacrifice my heartache in exchange for empty conversations between us. Not now.
I needed to think long and hard about everything before I sent him any more correspondence.
Track 24. Half of My Heart (4:15)
Arizona
Subject: Phone Update.
Dear Carter,
I tried calling you earlier, but the static in my flat is so bad, that the call never went completely through … I’m actually typing this email from an internet café in town, since the internet in my flat is even worse.
Anyway, our program is about to kick into even higher gear than before, and even though I have a charger now, I’ll have little time to take breaks during the week to talk.
I just want you to know that I’m not avoiding or ignoring you.
I hope you are well, and I’ll do my best to send you physical letters as much as I can …
Also, thank you for mailing me those tins of waffle batter from Gayle’s. I truly appreciate it.
Looking forward to talking to you when I get a break.
Sincerely,
Arizona
Eighty percent of that email was
a lie.
My flat had perfect internet. My phone service, even better.
And I was ahead in all my classes, so I had ample time to take breaks. The only thing that was true was my appreciation for the waffle batter; I’d made half of it the first week I received it.
I hit send on my lie-filled email to Carter and changed my email settings, making sure that any future messages from him would go directly into my spam folder.
I’d still been crying myself to sleep every night, no matter how hard I tried not to. In class, I was poised and focused—eager to soak up anything that would take my mind off of ‘not in that way,’ but once I was left alone, without structure and rigorous lessons, I fell apart.
Several times, I even tried to respond to one of his handwritten letters, but the only words that came out were curse words.
Even worse, I felt like the two of us were so fucking close, that I had nobody else I could talk to about this. He was, literally, all I had.
I started to log off the internet, but I saw Nicole’s “online” symbol light up in my video chat sidebar and clicked “connect” without thinking twice.
The screen read “connecting soon” and within minutes, her face appeared on my screen.
“Well, hey there, stranger!” She smiled.
“Hey …” I managed.
“I’ve been trying to connect with you for the longest! I didn’t even know you’d left so soon, until I heard it from Carter … You could’ve at least said goodbye.”
I stared blankly at her.
“Ari?” She asked, looking confused. “Ari, why are you looking like that? Can you hear me?”
“Yes … Yes, I can hear you.”
“Okay, then.” She smiled again. “Well, how are you? How’s France? How are you holding up without Gayle’s and having your BFF around all the time?”