Oh, Henry

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  I look up at him and his face instantly fills me with bitter rage. “No! I’m not okay, Henry! Look what you fucking did! And this is her last Thanksgiving. I won’t ever get another one with her. Not ever! Just leave. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  “But I didn’t mean to—”

  “I don’t care. Go.” I head inside to grab my purse and car keys. By the time I come outside again, Henry is pulling away in his SUV.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, asshole!” I yell, holding up two middle fingers. “I hope a flock of turkeys gang-rapes your skull and gives you turkey-cum stuffing in your ear!”

  From the corner of my eye I see two small girls in pink frilly dresses staring at me. Their mother and father are just a few yards down the sidewalk.

  Oh crap. It’s our next-door neighbors, the Rodríguezes.

  I make a little awkward wave. “Sorry. Family gatherings kind of get to me.”

  They head inside their house, looking not at all pleased.

  “I’m sorry!” I call out as they close their front door. “Fuck,” I whisper, covering my face and blowing out a long breath. I’ve screwed up. I’ve really screwed up. And I’m talking about the things I just said about my mother. Because even someone as socially challenged as me knows that the truth isn’t always the best policy. Worst of all, I’ve hurt my poor father, who’s already in so much pain. And my mother is going to be so heartbroken that I’m not at the table to eat with them.

  An image of her sickly face—with hollow cheeks and eyes—hits me and I begin to cry.

  I have nowhere to go except back to the dorms. Alone. On Thanksgiving.

  HENRY

  “Jesus. What a fucking cluster.” If that situation at Elle’s had gone any farther south, I’d be licking penguin nuts. ’Cause you just can’t get any farther south than that.

  I hit the speaker button on my car’s console and tell Sheila (aka Siri, who’s been set up as a chick with an Australian accent) to call Hunter. The call goes right into his voice mail.

  “Fuck! Fuck!” I pound my hands on the steering wheel and leave a message telling him that I’m an asshole, and therefore, he should call me back simply to agree with my sorry ass.

  I then try Elle but, of course, she doesn’t answer, and I opt not to leave a message. She’s still blocking my number, and I don’t know what to say anyway. Errr…sorry I showed up and ruined your last Thanksgiving with your dying mother? Oh, and by the way…wanna come hang out at my next two games so I can see if you’re the reason my playing rocked. Then sucked. Then rocked again?

  I somehow think that won’t go over too well, and suddenly my own needs feel diminished. I mean, yeah, I still care about football, but there’s this part of me—and it’s big—that can’t help noticing how what happened back there has genuinely shaken my foundation. All the times I was with her, she was hiding this major thing in her life. She never let on that she felt worried or sad.

  Or maybe you’re a self-centered douche and never took the time to notice?

  I shake my head, shrugging off my lame insecurities, and hit the freeway. What does it matter now? Elle and I are over. And there’s no way in hell she’s going to help me. And, frankly, I’m pissed. I’m pissed she wrote me off like some…superficial douchebag.

  I suddenly begin to wonder if I can honestly blame her. Did I give her a reason to think anything else? We screwed. We laughed. We clicked. But I never really treated her like more than a fling.

  My mind starts churning with memories, playing them like an old game reel. I can see me and Elle sitting in my room, laughing as she tries to teach me Klingon. It was the first time I can ever remember just hanging out with a girl and not wanting to be anywhere else. Then there was the time she fell asleep in my arms when I got carried away talking about a game against Alabama. I remember just lying there, staring at her face—the little golden brown eyelashes and soft pink lips. I remember feeling lucky to have her.

  I squeeze the steering wheel and grunt out a breath. Okay. Maybe there was more to us than I realized. Otherwise, why would I be so…so…fucking pissed that she only saw me as fuck material? On the other hand, I never really gave her a chance either. And now, now that I know what was holding her back, I want to. I want to know if she really means more to me than just a football vitamin.

  Okay, Henry, I say to myself. You’re not afraid of a little challenge. And now the goal is clear. A do-over with Elle. Because frankly, my life hasn’t felt solid since she left.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ELLE

  Thanksgiving Day was a black hole and nothing escaped its vacuous force. Not my emotions, not my family, and not even my friends. I’d ended up stopping by the dorms, convinced I could ride out the pity-storm alone in my room with a good book. But there was no amount of literature or steamy love scenes on a dirty, sexy island that could stop the crazy train inside my head. It had left the station, Ozzy at the helm, determined to arrive at its destination: truth.

  Henry had shattered the fragile barrier separating my two worlds, and then my brain did the rest. I was no longer able to compartmentalize my fears or sorrow, and worst of all, I realized I was a giant hypocrite. I’d told my dad to face the truth, yet I wasn’t able or willing to do it myself.

  Now the train of truth is moving full steam ahead, barreling over everything in its path. Which was why I’d found myself driving to Tass’s house on Thanksgiving evening and collapsing in hysterics in her front yard.

  God, what Hunter must think of me. Or Tass’s family. Snot had been flying, hiccups exploding, tears gushing. I was a mess. I think it’s called an emotional breakdown, Elle?

  Tass then gave me lots of water, put me in her bed, and curled up with me. The next morning we decamped for the dorms, and I could barely face her family, who, to their credit, just kept hugging me and telling me that it would all be okay.

  It won’t, of course. But that’s my reality to face.

  Anyway, it’s been five days since I hit the muddy layer of silt lying over rock bottom. The only thing that gives me comfort is knowing I can’t sink much lower.

  “Hi, Elle!” Tass bolts through the door of our dorm room, which reminds me of a sad gray cloud. No amount of decorating can overcome the stained gray carpets and ugly brown furniture, not even our brightly colored bedding and nerd-girl posters.

  “Guess who I just ran into?” She pants her words, like she’s run all the way here.

  I glance up from my bed, where I’m sitting in my favorite orange PJs with my back against the headboard, my history book propped on my lap. Tass is wearing a Pirates sweatshirt—XL, so I know it’s Hunter’s—and has her dark curly hair in a ponytail.

  “Santa?” I reply. “He’s come early and decided to put me out of my misery before Christmas arrives?” I still haven’t spoken to my father. I just don’t know what to say. Somehow “sorry” doesn’t feel adequate.

  “Dork!” Tassie snorts. “I saw Henry. In fact, he’s standing right outside and wants to know if it’s safe to come in and see you.”

  I huff. He’s the last person I ever want to see. “Uhh…that would be a no. Tell the Jolly Mean Giant to shoo.”

  Tass lifts her dark brows. “Oh, come on. He didn’t know about your mom, Elle. At least talk to him—let him grovel a little.”

  “Nope. I’m good.” I pretend to go back to my reading, but really I’m thinking about my pulse. It’s going warp speed, and I’m not sure if it’s because Henry is standing outside, likely looking his usual hot self, or because Henry is standing outside and I’m mad at him.

  “Elle,” Tass sits on the edge of my bed, “I think you’re making a mistake. You need a little fun in your life right now, and he really seems to like you. At least I assume so since he’s standing out in the hallway, holding a giant teddy bear while random people walk by, snickering at him.”

  A mental image of Henry—big, huge, manly, muscled Henry with a perma-five o’clock shadow—holding a big fuzzy bear pops into my head.
I bet he looks kind of cute.

  No. He looks desperate.

  “Come on, Elle. Give him a chance.” Tassie bats her hopeful blue eyes at me.

  “You just want me to date him because now you’re dating Hunter and you don’t want to go alone to all his football thingys.” Hunter is the star quarterback, and it’s no secret that his choice to date Tassie will cause a little controversy. She’s a diehard nerd like me and is not ashamed to show it. For example, she attended the game yesterday, where Henry did not play. Not that I care. But Tassie was there, wearing a big orange traffic cone on her head. She said that it would make Hunter laugh every time he looked at her, and since laughter is scientifically proven to boost cerebral function and physical stamina, he would play a perfect game. He did.

  “Thingys?” she asks. “They’re called games, and yes. Selfishly, I’d love to have you there because I like you, but not for any other reason than that. I’m fine hanging out with the Gamma Nus. They’re actually lots of fun!”

  The Gammas are the cheerleader sorority. Tassie, of all people, made friends with a few of them after discovering they actually have brains and aren’t nearly half as snobby as the Kappa Kappa Kappas—the nerd-girl sorority, or as I like to call them, the Sisterhood of Intellectual Nazis because they hate anyone who’s not a card-carrying member of Mensa. We almost joined, but then realized we were too socially evolved and didn’t appreciate them telling us we couldn’t date football players.

  Not that I want to. I’m so over Henry.

  “Tell him to go,” I grumble. “I’m not interested in being his sex toy.”

  “Actually, that’s not quite accurate. You’re going to love this.” Tassie hops up and bounces over to her own bed to fully face me like it’s story time. Her bed is covered with a huge pile of clean clothes she washed over at her parents’ last week. Since she’s been sleeping over at Hunter’s place (which is really Henry’s off-campus man-palace that he shares with Hunter and two other guys), she hasn’t had the need to fold. I’d talk to her about it, but I’ve got bigger problems. And it makes it easier for me to steal her clean socks because I haven’t had time to wash my own.

  She continues, her pale face a bright shade of giddy, “Okay. Ready for this? Because when I heard, I got all gooey inside. It’s just that adorable.”

  “What?” I snap, growing impatient.

  “It has to do with the real reason Henry came to see you on Thanksgiving. He—” Her cell buzzes in her jeans pocket. “Oh, crap. Sorry. It’s my mom. I have to take this.” She pulls out the device and answers. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?” Tass heads outside to talk, closing the door behind her. Why everyone goes out there to have private conversations is beyond me, but I expect her to return right away, and she doesn’t.

  Whattheheck? Did she really just leave me hanging like that?

  My mind instantly hops, skips and jumps to the worst possible conclusion. Something’s happened. Something bad.

  I get up to check the hallway and immediately encounter a furry orange wall blocking my entire doorway.

  “Hello there, princess.” Henry peeks over the top of the biggest orange teddy bear I’ve ever seen. With the way he’s holding the thing and his height, I feel like I’m being invaded by giant gummy bears.

  “Henry,” I say, in a snit, “you still here?”

  “Yep. And I’m not leaving until we talk.”

  I shrug. “Sleep outside, then. No skin off my teeth.” I close the door in his bear’s face and grab my cell from my nightstand to text Tassie.

  Me: What happened? U OK? Pls tell me no one died.

  Sounds like a joke, but it’s not. I really hope nobody’s hurt, injured, or on life support. I’m hyper paranoid at this stage of my life, and lucky me, my brain is very efficient at throwing out all sorts of possible explanations for her sudden departure. Gas line explosion at her house, tornado, space aliens—oh, maybe Russians! Everyone knows how crazy those people are.

  Tass: Everything’s fine! Forgot a book over in the science lab.

  Huh. But she disappeared after that call with her mom, and it’s not like her to cut out on me in the middle of a serious conversation. She had been about to tell me why Henry came to my house last week.

  Me: You sure?

  Tass: All OK! Be back in a minute.

  Humph! I set down my phone and stare at the ceiling for a moment. My gut tells me she’s lying.

  Well, logic says that if something happened, I’ll find out soon enough.

  A knock at the door quickly reminds me that I left Henry outside.

  Jesus, buddy! I sigh and walk over, jerking open the door. “Take a hint! I’m not interested.”

  But there’s no Henry. There’s just an orange bear propped up against the wall, sitting directly in front of the door.

  I stare at its glassy blue goo-goo eyes and silly smile. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not coming in.” Even if orange is my favorite color, which Henry must’ve remembered.

  The bear mocks me with his unshakable goofiness.

  “Fine.” I point and shake my finger at him. “But you’re only staying until I can find you a suitable home.”

  I pick the thing up and am immediately hit with the smell of Henry’s cologne. I’m suddenly unable to stop myself from burying my nose in the bear’s head and inhaling the sweet fresh scent that floods my mind with memories of holding Henry, of him touching me, of us lying in bed, laughing. My heart tightens around a hollowness inside it.

  I look down and suddenly realize I’m standing in the middle of the hallway, sniffing a giant teddy bear. Jesus, what’s wrong with me?

  Henry can’t change things with a stupid bear. We’re two different people. We always will be.

  I set the bear back down in the hallway and return to my room.

  HENRY

  This is not failure. It’s just a setback. But like every determined athlete, perseverance is key.

  I lean back in my computer chair—XXL and ergonomic, because I’m a big man who likes to take big care of himself—and stare at my computer screen, examining the play.

  Yes, for fuck’s sake, I’ve created a game plan for Elle. I find organization is key and planning is essential.

  I scratch my stubbled chin and reach for the mouse on my desk, clicking off the box on my screen.

  Orange bear is a dud. I’ve only given a stuffed animal once in my life, and it got me laid. Five times. Five girls. Same time. Same night. That was my freshman year and taught me a valuable lesson: quality, not quantity. Guys get off on these fantasies of being the big stud, fucking a dozen women at once in an act of pure male showmanship. But unless you were born with twelve cocks, someone is bound to be left out in the cold. Then there’s the whole obstacle of most women taking much longer to come, which means that for them there’ll be a lot of waiting around. So while men can dream big, there’s no glory in going home with only half the job done. Point is, that night was a fail and so was the bear. Both are off the list for good.

  I move to the next item on my list, a gem guaranteed to humiliate the hell out of me and convince Elle to forgive me—the first step in our possible reboot.

  My finger hesitates on the mouse, urging me to skip this idea. It’s really, really going to make me look like an idiot if it doesn’t work.

  No. Be strong, Henry. This one is a winner. No woman can resist such a powerful public display of affection.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ELLE

  Every Thursday, Tassie and I have a two-hour break in the afternoon between classes, so we’ve been meeting up to jog around the track since the Texan weather is cooler this time of year. Today, though, she said she wanted to skip the exercise and meet up for coffee over in the common, where everyone hangs out to eat or study or veg. Sounds good to me because the only thing I want is to finish our conversation from Tuesday. The one where she just disappeared midsentence and then never returned. She’s been staying over at Hunter’s place, which means she’s al
so seen Henry. I won’t lie, I do feel a little jealous that she’s all snuggled up with a man at night, and I’m left behind in our ode-to-depression dorm room.

  Toting my purple backpack, I immediately spot Tass sitting in the center of the indoor space that reminds me of a mall food court with its three-story-high ceiling, mood plants, skylights, and ocean of café tables filled with students. Around the perimeter of the first floor are the various food shacks and a convenience store. On the second and third floors—with catwalks overlooking the table area—are the various student service offices, bookstore, and student group headquarters.

  Tass spots me and gives a quick wave followed by a shit-eating grin. Uh-oh… That’s the sneaky look my sister, Lana, always gives me when she’s up to something.

  I weave through the clusters of tables and piles of backpacks littering the floor. “All right, what’s with the guilty smile?” I plop down in the chair across from her.

  “Nothing.” She bites the inside of her cheeks.

  “You’re a terrible liar.” So bad, in fact, that I’ve only known her for three months and I can spot her fibs from five light-years away.

  She continues smiling, her eyes watering, but she doesn’t speak.

  “Ugh. Okay, I don’t have time for this.” I start getting up from my chair.

  “Wait! Okay! I’ll tell you, but…” She half-winces, half-smiles.

  “But what?” I fold my arms across my chest.

  “Well, there are really two parts to this. The first is hard for me to tell you because it’s so premature, but on the other hand, it looks so promising, and I feel like if you knew, it might change your bad mood, even if it’s for a few short weeks while we wait. I mean, if it doesn’t work out, at least you have that and—”

  “Tassie, please. Just spit it out.”

  She shows me her two palms. “Okay, okay. As you know, my mother is very well known in the cancer research arena, and after your visit the other day, she did some poking around.”