Expiration Dating

by G. T. Marie

  After some time, the cuddly couple retrieved me from my rocks. Emilia asked if everything was alright, and I nodded, smiled, said it couldn’t be better. We bid goodbye to our Italian tour guide and promised to stay in touch using our fancy modern technology. The next morning, we left Sicily.

  Chapter Thirty

  We got back to Milan on Saturday afternoon after spending a week laying on the beach and dancing til the wee hours of the morning in Malta. The Arabic city had been fun for a few days, but by the end of the week, I was more than ready to be home in my cozy little apartment.

  The girls and I spent the rest of the weekend scrubbing the dust and drinks out of our clothing, replenishing the fridge, catching up on some shut eye, and generally getting our lives back in shape for the last part of the semester. With just a few weeks left, I was feeling the nerves creep into my gut every time I thought about leaving.

  I was glad for a distraction on Sunday, when I looked at my phone, still misty with sweat from a hot shower, and saw a text message from Andrew. It read:

  Just got back in town. Wanna come over?

  I was surprised to hear from him at all, especially in this context, and my mind started snowballing with possibilities. After spending a week with his ex girlfriend, I figured the last person he’d want to see was me. Unless, I realized, things had gone poorly and he needed a shoulder to cry on.

  I sighed, but after mentioning it to Emilia, I knew deep down that I did want to see him. I hadn’t thought of Andrew much on the trip, and I hoped the lingering vacation high would make it easier to hear what he had to say

  I changed quickly into a skirt and tee and jumped on the metro. As I arrived I put my hand up to knock, and Andrew threw the door open.

  “You look, wow!” His fingers played with the edge of the door, blocking the entrance. “You look great.”

  “Thank you,” I said curtsying in my way-too-short for curtsying skirt.

  “The beachy tan, the…” he said tapped his fingers against the door frame. I wondered if he’d called me over just to remind himself what I looked like.

  “You’re not so bad yourself,” I said. I wasn’t lying. He his skin was bronzed and his hair had lightened a few shades. It had also grown out a tad, and the beginnings of his curls had begun to show again. He smelled just like I remembered, a clean, ocean-fresh scent, not overpowering in the least. On the contrary, I couldn’t get enough. I hugged Andrew, happy I had decided to come over. He squeezed me back and I felt the breath whoosh out of my chest.

  “It’s really good to see you,” he repeated.

  “You too,” I said expecting him to delve into a sob story at any second.

  “Do you want a glass of wine or tea or something?” he asked. “We could go out on the deck and catch up. I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in two weeks.”

  “That sounds fantastic,” I said. “I’ll have some tea – I’ve probably drank enough for a lifetime in the past week alone.”

  Andrew prepared the hot water and meandered outside to the spacious patio. We looked at the stars for a moment before he broke the silence, “I really missed you.”

  “I missed you, too,” I said, caution lacing my words. I figured I wasn’t lying; just because I had fun and didn’t think about him that often didn’t mean I had forgotten about him. Not in the least. I had just realized that I’d rather keep him as a friend than nothing at all.

  “Did you-”

  “I didn’t sleep with her,” Andrew interrupted.

  “I wasn’t going to ask. All I was asking was if you had fun.”

  “I know, but it’s important,” Andrew said. “I… being far away from you for two weeks made me… I guess I just realized that I really, really missed you. I like you a lot.”

  I was touched. He looked more hesitant than I’d ever seen him; this confident, outspoken guy now twitched and averted his eyes, measuring his words, his speech wrought with pauses. I had waited forever to hear him say this, and now, now that I’d finally stopped pining for him, he decides to admit he likes me? I knew it was a hard thing for him to do, and his confession meant a lot to me. I just wasn’t ready for him to change his mind again.

  “You know I like you, Andrew. I can still like you as a friend.” I played with my cup.

  “I also know how much you miss your girlfriend – ex – An,” I stumbled over the last part.

  “Ex,” Andrew confirmed. “I didn’t sleep with her, and it wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Dana, listen. She’s been hooking up with someone else, and that’s fine. I expected it.”

  He met my eyes and his voice gained momentum, “We broke up for a reason coming here. But in Morocco, she wanted to get back together, she was very forward. But seeing her, I realized I didn’t have those feelings anymore. I like her, she’s great as a person, but I wanted you there instead.”

  I was having trouble forming the sounds from his mouth into words that made sense. I took a moment to process, and when Andrew looked away, I was surprised to remember it was my turn to speak.

  “I missed you, too. And I like you a lot. But this doesn’t change the fact that we’re leaving each other soon. We don’t have much time left here,” I said. The thought of leaving Italy caused a spear of sorrow to course through my veins.

  It was like a terminal illness; you knew the end was coming, but you were powerless to stop it. The thought of losing Andrew and Italy at the same time left a hole in my heart just imagining it.

  “True, but I want you to know it’s more than a fling. I didn’t actually mean we wouldn’t talk when we went back to America. I’m just saying I haven’t done a long-distance relationship. I’ve never understood why people do it, it’s so hard,” Andrew said.

  “They do it because they love someone that lives far away!”

  “Yes, but the rest of your life is on hold then,” Andrew said.

  “No,” I said. “Your sex life is on hold – not the rest of your life.”

  Andrew shrugged, “I’m just saying it would be difficult.”

  “Of course it would be challenging!” I noticed my voice becoming shriller. “I never said it would be easy, I just said it’s not worth discounting. All I ask of you, all I ever wanted was to know there was a possibility we would even talk afterward.”

  I paused for breath. “You refuse to even admit there’s a possibility anything could last. You know what? I would have slept with you by now except you won’t even admit you’d consider trying. I didn’t think that was so much to ask for.”

  Andrew crossed his arms and reclined in the dilapidated lawn chair. I adjusted my seat and leaned forward, “Guess what, if it didn’t work out, I wasn’t going to stalk you. I never even said we had to date back home. I just didn’t want my first time to be with an asshole that’d I’d never speak to again. That’s why I’ve held off. I’ve waited twenty-one years, a few months isn’t going to hurt me now.”

  Andrew nodded, his face emotionless. He sat forward, snapping the chair legs back to the ground. “I just wanted to be upfront. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.”

  The wind instantly deflated from my sails.

  “You’re right,” I said. “I’m just frustrated by the circumstances. I finally feel like I found someone I like and can trust, and you’re going to leave me in a matter of weeks. That just makes me … sad.”

  We sat in the crisp night air for a long minute. My shoulders slumped. This was not what I had expected coming over, but I was relieved to have everything on the table.

  We just couldn’t agree.

  Andrew broke the silence, “Come on up, you can stay over tonight. You don’t have to decide anything.”

  I let myself be led upstairs where Andrew and I lay snug under the covers. He lightly ran his fingers down my back, and in the darkness I heard him stir.

  “I mean, you don’t have to decide, but if you did want too…” he laughed and rolled me over, teasing me with kisses. I gave him a look, but didn’t stop kissing
him. True to his word, he didn’t ask again…at least the rest of the evening.

  Chapter Thirty One

  I woke Monday morning and took my time getting out of bed. My shoulders jerked upward as I glanced at the clothing strewn about the floor.

  “Andrew.” I shook his shoulder. “Wake up or you’ll miss class.”

  He moaned and wrapped his arms around my stomach.

  “Andrew, we have to go today. There’s a test Friday.”

  “You go, I’m staying.” He rolled over, his arms slipping down my stomach past my thighs and back under the covers.

  “You sure?” I had my bra halfway on already.

  “I’m smart enough already.”

  I kissed the top of his curls. “See you later.”

  I looked at my phone, realizing I’d have to hurry in order to make it home before class. I hadn’t planned on staying over at Andrew’s place, and the result was me being stranded without clothes. The only other option would be attending class while outfitted in a sparkly short skirt.

  I decided to get my legs moving.

  I raced to the foot of the metro, ignoring the judgmental glances without a passing thought. Today wasn’t my first ride of shame. The doors slammed as I skidded down the last stair. I glanced at the wall clock with trepidation; the next train wasn’t for eight minutes.

  An Italian touched my back and pointed toward the back of the line, line being a generous word. It was actually a mob of people staring down the mouth of the tracks waiting for the next train. I grumbled some choice words and slipped behind a few people, pulling out my phone.

  “Emilia, hi,” I said, hoping I sounded sweet, knowing I couldn’t pull it off with my scratchy, morning voice.

  “What do you need?” She asked.

  “Uh, well you see,” I paused. “Can you bring me a pair of pants to class?”

  “Pants?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yours?”

  “Um,” I said glancing around, hoping no one could understand the conversation.

  “Okay, okay. I’m leaving now. I’ll set them outside of the classroom in the spare computer lab.”

  “Great.” the air whooshed out of my lungs. “You are awesome.”

  The phone clicked off, and I eyeballed the young male leering over my shoulder.

  I finally arrived at class and stepped into the basement computer lab right outside the room. I could hear the teacher’s voice droning on in Italian. I did a quick sign of the cross that no one would walk past, and slipped the pants on, groaning. My tightest, most uncomfortable pair of jeans; this was her idea of payback. Would sweatpants have been so difficult?

  I slipped into class and Megan raised her eyebrows, stifling a smile.

  “Don’t,” I said.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  I pulled my book out of my bag and pretended to study.

  “Where’s Andrew today?”

  “He’s still in bed- oooh, you’re good,” I grinned at Megan, caught red-handed, before we were interrupted by machine gun blasts of Italian from our tiny instructor.

  Halfway through class, I received a message from Roberto saying he was back from Dubai and would love to see me. I hedged an excuse; I wasn’t quite sure how to tell him I wasn’t interested. He persisted, inviting me over to his house the following day for dinner. Upon my hesitation, he changed it to drinks. When I still said no, he asked if I just wanted to stop by.

  I started to feel uncomfortable with his insinuating offers, knowing I didn’t want our relationship to progress. He’d begun to expect something that I couldn’t return. Emilia urged me to just tell him I wasn’t interested over texts. I heed and hawed until finally agreeing to meet him for a brief coffee later that day. We met at the same place where we’d first chatted, and I greeted him with an awkward handshake-turned-hug. I hadn’t told Andrew about the encounter, and I wasn’t planning on it. I felt guilty, even though I was meeting him to cut things off.

  Roberto leaned over the counter, “Two cappuccinos, please.”

  “I was actually going to order an espresso,” I said.

  “Cappuccino is better this time of day.”

  “Yeah, well-”

  He broke away, stirring some cane sugar into the miniature cup.

  “Ze shoe line is good. Dubai, I talk to many business people. I think some like me. I am busy there, phone always ringing, you know?” He wiggled his phone back and forth in front of my nose.

  “Yea-”

  “And my mother still wonders when she meets you. You, the girl who smiles. I think she just wants me to have babies. It will make her very happy.”

  “Glad to hear that.”

  “Yes, yes, maybe we move to Florence, and I work from there? Yes, that works,” he trailed off in thought, and I was tempted to wave my hand in front of his face to see if he’d acknowledge my presence.

  I drifted into my own thoughts, realizing I was right in thinking I was his toy, his signature American doll. I should have trusted my instincts, and I was kicking myself for letting it go on as long as I had.

  Roberto kept murmuring about his mother, but the entire time I couldn’t help but think how I would much rather have a spitting contest with Andrew as opposed to a night out with the man in front of me now, bumbling on about how many languages he spoke. When Roberto asked if I’d swing by his house for a drink after, I couldn’t say no fast enough. He continued to ask, throwing out every offer in the book, but I told him I had other plans, and that I didn’t want to take our relationship any further. He looked disappointed, but as I escaped from his barrage of queries, I didn’t look back.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Spring break seemed like eons ago. After our discussion, Andrew and I spent more time together than ever. We found ourselves spending fewer nights in the dancing circuit and more time making dinner or grabbing a beer with friends.

  Later in the week, we were making our way back from a bar, surrounded by his roommates. On this evening, Andrew caught himself holding my hand in front of his roommates. Though Andrew and I weren’t official, they were all aware of our situation; my company a few times a week in Andrew’s bed gave it away. For a second, as he looked down at our interlocked hands, he looked like he wanted to disengage our fingers, but after a second he broke into a grin. I watched the emotions flash across his face like a short film. Instead, he grabbed my hand tighter, leaned over, and planted a kiss on my mouth.

  “I don’t even care, anymore!” he said into my ear, nodding toward his roommates. It wasn’t a whisper and it wasn’t a shout; it was a revelation. I squeezed his hand and traced his palm with my thumb. For Andrew, public hand holding was a huge step.

  The next day was Friday, and I could barely fall asleep as I lay in bed with Andrew; tomorrow our class was heading up to Cinque Terre. The field trip was planned for only a day, so we were going to hike during the sunlight hours, eat dinner, then head home on the night train. It was supposedly one of the most beautiful places in all of Italy, which was quite a prestigious title.

  In the morning, I arrived at the train with Andrew, and together we secured car with Emilia and Megan. We attempted to play cards, but the early hour combined with our mild headaches resulted in the group dozing on and off the majority of the ride. When the brakes jerked to a screeching stop, we were more than relieved to stand and stretch our legs, shuffling to dismount from the platform.

  I’d been watching my feet to avoid slipping, so by the time I raised my eyes to the sights in front of us, I was a good distance away from the cars. First in my line of sight was the cliffs; I dropped my bag, and brushed a hand over my open mouth. The hair on my arms stood straight up. Five small cities were built directly into the hills next to the ocean. It looked like a child’s painting; the colors were vibrant, the houses scattered haphazardly across the green hills at treacherous angles. The apartments were painted with pastel pinks and yellows, deep blues and off shades of red.

  Each town had som
e sort of pathway leading up to it, though from where we were standing I could only clearly make out the first village and an outline of the second, I waited as our class gathered at the base of the pathway to begin our hike. I shivered and wished I owned a better rain jacket. The fleece I was wearing was already damp and heavy from the drizzle. Emilia and Andrew were prepared - Emilia sported her Pata-gucci jacket from the first day at the airport, while Megan just seemed indifferent to the wetness. As we began the trek, the four of us easily ended up in front of the pack.

  “Guys, I think we lost the rest of our group,” I said.

  “And?” Megan asked.

  “You wanna wait for the frat boys to catch up?” Andrew asked, not slowing down a hair.

  “On we go,” I said as we continued on the rocky path. I looked over the edge, a huge mistake.

  “You guys…” I said, slowing to a stop.

  “Come on, it’s fine,” Andrew said.

  “I don’t like this.” I glanced back over the edge. The trail would lead us between the five cities, but the path between them was rugged and slick with rain. We were near the edge of the cliffs, and there were no railing between us and the crashing waves below. In addition, we were coming up on a narrow point, which would force us to travel in a single file line.

  “You guys! I can’t do this!” I was nearly crying. I could feel the rocks under my feet crumbling and sliding. I flailed my arms reaching for something to steady my weight, as well as my nerves.

  Andrew was the first to realize the extent of my fear. He came back, arms outstretched. “You’re doing great; you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “God, god god god ohmygod I’m going to fall and die,” I felt stuck, holding onto a tiny plant.

  “Let go of the plant – it’s not going to help you,” Andrew coached.

  “I can’t! I CAN’T!”

  “YES, YOU CAN.”

  “You don’t understand. You don’t get it,” I forced the tears not to fall.