Our Year in Love and Parties

by Karen Hattrup

  “I’ll miss you, too.”

  “Have I even explained to you why this happened?” Eliot called from the floor. “THIS IS ALL BECAUSE OF THE RASPBERRY DRIZZLE CAKE.”

  Jacob took that as a cue to haul Eliot back to his feet. Erika got ahead of them, stepping forward to open the door to the stairs.

  Before she could, it flew open from the other side. Tucker was standing there, hair messy, eyes wide.

  “I was coming to check on you. I thought . . .”

  And then his eyes floated behind her, to Eliot. To Jacob.

  Erika could feel herself starting to sweat. She fumbled for the right words, the ones that would get Jacob and Eliot on their way as quickly as possible . . .

  But then Tucker turned and—without saying a thing—headed up to Salma’s room.

  “Tucker. Tucker. Where are you going?”

  He was still striding toward Salma’s door, and it seemed that he was going to walk right into her room and not say one word to Erika. At the last second, he turned around and started pacing back and forth.

  “What’s up?” Erika asked. “What’s going on?”

  She was disgusted, though, saying that, because of course she already knew.

  “I asked if you wanted me to come, if you wanted me to help,” Tucker said. “I don’t understand why you told me no, and then you called . . . some other guy. That other guy.”

  Now was the time to be honest—it was past time—but she wanted so much to avoid the discussion that she was having a pure, physical reaction. Fight or flight. Her heart hammered in her chest.

  “He’s on the swim team, and the kid who needed help is also on the swim team.”

  She still hadn’t said his name. She’d never said his name around Tucker, as if that could save her somehow.

  As Erika was about to ask Tucker to come back to her room, to just go to sleep and they could talk in the morning, the elevator gave a loud ding. A pile of girls in fake prom dresses tumbled out of it, cackling and chanting about shots as they made their way down the hall. Erika did her best to avert her eyes and her ears, because technically she wasn’t on duty and she certainly couldn’t deal with anything like that right now, there was no way . . .

  But then a tall girl in a pink princess gown stopped right next to her and gave a little squeal.

  “OH MY GOD. IT’S COUCH COUPLE.”

  Her friends stopped and turned around, and yes, this was actually happening. All of them were clapping. Tucker was staring at the floor, so Erika was stuck taking this on alone.

  She turned to them with the most strained of smiles.

  “We’re kind of busy.”

  “YEAH THEY ARE!” the girl in the princess gown shouted, and then—mercifully—they were all heading down the hall.

  Erika waited until they disappeared into a room, the door slamming behind them. She clasped her hands together and tried to calm her pulse, but she couldn’t. She kept thinking about tonight, the party, how this all could have been beautiful and right if only she hadn’t screwed everything up.

  “Who is he?” Tucker asked quietly. “Are you seeing him?”

  She wanted to deny it. She could feel the words forming in her mouth. No, no—it’s nothing, and oh god. She could not believe she’d almost said that.

  “He’s Suzanne,” she finally said. “He’s just my Suzanne.”

  A horrible silence descended, one that had contour and depth.

  “You’re sleeping with him?”

  “Not that, but . . .”

  “Never mind, never mind. I don’t know why I asked that. It’s not my business.”

  Erika couldn’t stand the broken look on his face. Her hand went to her mouth and trembled.

  “I never wanted this to happen. I was going to end things with him and explain things to you, but it got messed up. Fuck. This was bad timing, okay? This isn’t me. You know that, Tucker. All of this . . . it’s not me.”

  “Cheating’s not you?” he asked.

  The hallway’s fluorescent light flickered and buzzed.

  Three words. It was just three words, but they were sarcastic and thick with history. Clearly, he knew more about the video than he’d ever let on. He hadn’t forgotten whatever sordid little details he’d heard, back at the Cave.

  Was it only now that they were bothering him? Or had they bothered him all along?

  Erika lowered her voice.

  “You’ve always acted like you didn’t care, about any of that. Like you were above it. I should have known that was bullshit.”

  Tucker took a step toward her. For a second she thought he might take her in his arms.

  “No, no. It’s not bullshit. I don’t care about it. You know that I don’t. I’m so sorry I said that. I’m just upset. I’m just—”

  The stairwell door banged open behind her. Erika shut her eyes, silently begging the universe that it wouldn’t be more people from the party. Then she turned to look, and oh no.

  No, no, no.

  Jacob and Eliot were limping together down the hall.

  “Dude, I know you’re pretty out of it, but how did you forget what floor you lived on?”

  Jacob paused to rearrange Eliot’s weight, and as he did, he looked up, his eyes flicking back and forth between Erika and Tucker.

  He kept watching her, carefully, as he shuffled Eliot down the hall. Erika stared at the wall, afraid to look at him, conscious of how palpably tense the air around her and Tucker was, both of them standing there so stiffly.

  Please walk by, please walk by, please walk by.

  And they almost did. Jacob was so close to passing them without a word, but then he paused.

  “Erika, are you okay? Is this guy bothering you?”

  Tucker scoffed, loudly. Erika did her best to ignore that and keep her voice steady.

  “No, Jacob, no. He’s not bothering me. We’re . . . I’m sorry, but I can’t talk right now. Okay?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m harmless,” Tucker broke in. “Totally harmless. Don’t worry about me.”

  This was turning into a total and complete nightmare. Erika could not believe that Tucker was being such an asshole, and she could not believe that she’d made such a goddamn mess, one that was getting worse by the second.

  “Jacob, I’m sorry, but I need you to go.”

  He lingered for another moment, then got Eliot the rest of the way down the hall, opening the door to Eliot’s room and helping him inside.

  Erika and Tucker stood there in silence, and then Tucker finally spoke.

  “Was this all a joke to you? What happened tonight, in your bed. Was that some kind of joke?”

  Erika was starting to feel dizzy. When her voice came, it was hoarse.

  “No! Of course not.”

  “But why say all that stuff, about what you like best about me? Why put on a big show and pretend like you care?”

  “Of course I care! That’s why I’m upset right now, don’t you get it?”

  Tucker’s eyes had gone dark, and then he was looking at the floor, at his half-tied shoes.

  “No, I don’t get it. I think I’m just someone you text when you’re bored. When you’re not busy with somebody else.”

  Erika was shaking. Her heart was in shreds.

  “Fuck you, Tucker. Fuck you.”

  She turned and walked to the stairs as quickly as she could.

  33

  Tucker

  Tucker gave Erika a chance to get away from him, and then he walked back to the stairwell and sunk down to the floor. He put his head in his hands and took deep, ragged breaths.

  Every night I’ve spent with you has been a night that I wished would never end.

  He couldn’t believe that he’d actually been planning to say those words. He was still a total puppy dog. A complete, pathetic loser. He’d been on the verge of pouring out his soul to Erika, and meanwhile, she was just in college mode, hookup mode. So she was messing around with that other guy and messing
around with him and it was all whatever.

  Tucker tried to silence all the awful thoughts running through his mind and focus on something practical instead. He had to pull himself together and go back to the deflated air mattress, then explain to Bobby why they had to leave first thing in the morning.

  He wasn’t ready, though. Not yet. He needed a minute to himself, to be miserable here in the hallway.

  His stupid phone was in his pocket, beeping, but when he went to turn it off, he realized that it was his mom. She was texting him repeatedly and saying that they needed to talk, that it was important.

  Tucker gathered himself as best he could, then called her.

  “Hi, hon, hi. I’m sorry to bother you. I hope— How is everything? Are you having fun?”

  He shut his eyes and tried to stay calm.

  “It’s fine. What’s going on?”

  His mom exhaled loudly. “Can you please tell me if you’ve been drinking? This is not about me being mad. I just need you to be honest.”

  “I had like three beers, but that was hours ago. I’m totally sober.”

  She was silent for a moment, the connection crackling. “This is important, Tucker.”

  “I’m being a million percent honest. What’s going on?”

  “Your aunt Maggie got in touch with me. Your dad’s in bad shape. The hospice nurse—she thinks he must have developed a tumor in his liver, and that it’s bleeding out. He could be gone by morning.”

  The news went through Tucker like an electric shock—a pure, undeniable sensation that took away everything else.

  It was amazing how he thought he was ready, when in fact, he wasn’t ready at all.

  “Are you telling me this so I’ll drive over there and say goodbye?”

  “I wouldn’t have called, but you’re so close—I wanted you to know, so you could make your own decision.”

  His mom was crying. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what his mom was feeling right now. Tucker’s mouth was dry and his heart was going much too fast.

  “I don’t think I have anything to say. And he never has anything to say.”

  For a few seconds, he couldn’t hear a thing, no motion, no breathing. When she came back, her voice was still unsteady.

  “Listen—your uncle Nate and your aunt Maggie? They are kind, lovely people. They tried, very hard, with me. When you were first born, they tried to be part of my life and your life, even when Ray wouldn’t. I pushed them away because . . . because I was young. I was young and I was scared and I was angry. By the time I grew up a little and realized that was a mistake, I felt like it was too late to fix things.”

  Now she was crying again, worse than before.

  “Both of them are at the farm too, and I know it would mean a lot to them if you went. So maybe you could do it for them, and for me. Maybe it’s not fair of me to ask that, but I’m asking you anyway. Because I believe that you’re up to doing this.”

  Tucker started sobbing, curled into a corner on the cold, dirty stairs.

  “Let me think for a minute,” he managed to say. “I’ll think about it, and I’ll let you know.”

  34

  Erika

  She escaped into the common room. Hunched in a chair in the corner, she unfriended him, unfollowed him. Bobby, too, and Nina. A couple people from the Cave. Anybody who might bring some news of him into her life. Then she sat there and tried to think what in god’s name she should possibly do now.

  She could go see if Jacob was back in his own room yet. Ask if he had any condoms.

  She could go get Salma, but Salma was with Will in another building, maybe quite literally with him, right this minute, and it would be way too pathetic, banging on his door. Besides, Salma knew about the video, but she only knew the very basic story. There was so much more that Erika would have to explain, and she wanted to talk to someone who would understand without Erika having to give all the awful details . . .

  She didn’t think, just made the call.

  Marissa answered on the second ring.

  “Drunk dial? Please say it is. I’ve had a long week, and I’m very sober. I could use this.”

  Erika started crying.

  “Oh my god, E—what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but I’m not fine, because of a whole bunch of garbage that just happened. I know this is insane, but can I drive there right now to see you? It’s only an hour, right?”

  There was a pause, and she listened to Marissa breathing, shifting around.

  “Is this about Tucker? I saw pictures of you guys on a boat . . .”

  “Yeah, it’s about him, but it’s complicated.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “Barely anything, and it was forever ago. I’m wide awake.”

  “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. You’ll drive here and keep your phone on speaker the whole time. Then I’ll know you’re not dead on the side of the road, and we can catch up.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No driving until you stop crying!”

  “I promise, I promise.”

  Over the phone, they started with apologies and confessed how much they missed each other. Marissa demanded to know everything about these new people clogging up Erika’s Instagram feed, and then had to recap all of her recent roommate drama. Erika told Marissa about coffee with Jennifer, and Marissa told Erika more details than she really needed about the vagina ring Marissa had gotten from Planned Parenthood. Erika started laughing (what a miracle that was), and Marissa yelled at her to focus on the road.

  When she was about ten minutes from Maryland’s campus, Erika finally stopped stalling. She told Marissa about Tucker, all their texting, the party tonight. Her room and what happened after.

  “M, there’s something that I never told you, about the video. Dana . . . she went and erased it off both their phones. She did that for me, even after everything. I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to hate her still, for that stuff she said about me.”

  There was a pause, a small one, before Marissa spoke again.

  “Okay, cool. She wasn’t just a worthless shit-talker. I’ll file that away with my high school memories.”

  Erika choked out a laugh and told her to stop, at the same time that she was pulling into the visitors’ lot that was right behind Marissa’s dorm.

  “Okay, I’m here,” Erika said. “I’m parking.”

  “I’m running toward you,” Marissa said. “It’s very dramatic and romantic.”

  Erika shut off her car. She took a deep breath, looking out the window into the dark. She was almost to the end of what she was trying to say, and she wanted to finish it while she was still technically alone.

  “When I was in the middle of it, with Grayson . . . I knew it was a mistake. I didn’t want to be doing it, but I felt like I couldn’t stop. Like it was too late or something.”

  Marissa let out a sharp breath. “It’s never too late. You can always stop. I see your car, by the way. I’m almost there.”

  Erika looked out her window. “I felt so scared and sick and alone as soon as it was done—I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept thinking it was going to haunt me for weeks or months, and then, then, everything got infinitely worse.”

  “Do you see me?”

  Erika leaned her forehead on the window, raised her hand in a wave.

  “It’s been so hard, trying to get past it, but I’ve been so much happier lately. I don’t want to backslide because of what happened tonight.”

  “You won’t, I know you won’t.”

  Marissa was outside the car in her pajamas, her hair a big, glorious mess, staring in through the glass. When Erika opened the door, they finally hung up their phones and put them away.

  “I’m sorry,” Erika said. “I was such a bitch at Christmas.”

  “Who cares? Let’s pretend you were on your period or something. Also: you’re my favorite person. Don’t tell Marco.”

  Marissa crammed herself into the front s
eat, and the girls were safe in each other’s arms.

  35

  Tucker

  Tucker was frightened when he arrived because the farm was so powerfully dark at night. He drove down the dirt road with no streetlights to guide him, then parked in a clearing near Grandma Ruth’s.

  Lamps lit every room on the first floor, casting a stark divide between the bright interior and pitch-dark outdoors.

  Tucker shut off the engine and sat alone in his car, letting the minutes tick by. He was glad that he could see so little because he didn’t want to remember the difficult days he’d spent here.

  He had not been to the farm since the crash.

  The more time passed, the more Tucker could pretend that none of this was real, and the more he began to consider turning around and leaving. But then the front door swung open. Nate and Maggie were there on the porch. She was leaning on him, weeping, and couldn’t see Tucker.

  Did they hate him, because he hadn’t been there to see his dad? Did they hate him because of the accident?

  Tucker wouldn’t have blamed them if they did. But he pushed that thought away and made himself step out of the car.

  Nate and Maggie heard his footfalls, and in perfect unison they looked up and saw him.

  They walked out and met him with open arms.

  Tucker’s visits to the farm were always spent almost entirely outdoors, and it felt strange, being in his grandmother’s home. She had embraced him, though, when he walked in. Now she sat at the kitchen table, staring at a glass of water without taking a sip.

  Tucker learned that Ray had been living in a room on the first floor for weeks now, and so far, Tucker had caught only glimpses of it—the corner of a hospital bed, an IV pole, the flash of someone in scrubs.

  Nate came over and gently touched Tucker’s arm.

  “He might not be able to talk, when you go in there. He might not really be awake. We don’t know. But we’ll ask the nurse to step out, and you can have a few minutes alone with him.”

  No. Tucker wanted to say no, but already this plan was in motion, and what reason could he possibly give, except that he hated the person on the other side of that wall?