The Broken Hearts' Society of Suite 17C

by LeighAnn Kopans

  So, as Arielle slid her bag to the ground, she turned to the girl and reached out a hand. “My name’s—”

  A sharp, confident voice sounded from the back of the room. “Welcome to Women’s Studies, Feminism in Film. This is a 200 level writing class, which is not entry level but a required gen-ed.” The professor strode into class on sharp heels, which clicked against the floor with such precision they sounded like a metronome, interrupting every conversation in the room. Including Arielle’s almost-introduction to the stunningly gorgeous girl beside her.

  The entire lecture was just as forceful as her entrance, with the professor glossing over the film and writing content, and ranting about some definition of feminism the New York Times had just used in a front page article that was apparently going to take women a peg even further down the corporate ladder. Or something.

  Even though this was only a two hundred level class, and it fulfilled a gen-ed, most of the girls in the class appeared to have registered for it because they were fans of the professor. She knew most of them by name, and participated in the followup discussion much more like a friend than like a teacher. By the end of class, Arielle had aching fingers from trying to type notes on everything they said, and a spinning head from trying to make sense of the vast majority of it.

  When the professor, Dr. Bennett, finally said, “Okay, see you on Thursday. And don’t skimp on the reading,” Arielle leaned forward, raking her fingers back through her hair while trying to massage away the dull headache that had started between her eyes halfway through class. Only after a few seconds of deep, calming breaths did she realize the other girl was still sitting beside her. At some point in the class, she had slumped back in her seat, staring blankly at her computer.

  Like she was thinking exactly the same thing as Arielle.

  Arielle sat up and slowly closed her laptop, sliding it into her bag. Please say something. Please introduce yourself.

  “Did you get any of that?”

  OhthankGod

  “Uh…most of it?” Arielle managed. “Or some of it? Depends on how much comprehension counts for ‘getting it.’”

  The girl laughed, her maybe-polite smile from earlier widening into something friendlier, more genuine. “I always get nervous before a new class, but usually it turns out to be okay. Guess this is not usually.”

  “Thank God I wasn’t the only one,” Arielle laughed.

  “What are you going to do?” the girl asked, picking up her own bag—a paisley-patterned quilted backpack—as she stood to leave. “About the class, I mean? Tough it out?”

  Arielle was on her feet in a second, lifting her canvas messenger bag over her shoulder. She shrugged. “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t think I can switch now. It was hard enough trying to get my schedule to work in the first place.”

  “Good point. Mine is the worst. Like, now, I have exactly an hour and forty-eight minutes before the next class. Too long to eat a quick lunch, not long enough to go back to my room for a nap or even to get any homework done when I’m starving and I have to eat lunch first.”

  Arielle checked her phone—she was starving, too, and no wonder. It was one-thirty. She hadn’t had the luxury of scheduling classes around all-important meal times, since she’d gotten in to Northern at the last minute. She forced her thoughts away from the bitterness that rose in them when she thought of everything that had brought her here. In her first six days on campus, she’d realized that she liked Indiana Northern far more than she’d ever liked Wesleyan.

  It had surprised her, especially because she thought she’d hate the huge campus, huge classes, huge everything. Suddenly, Northern was looking even better.

  “Are you? Hungry?” Gorgeous Girl asked.

  “Oh, um…yeah, actually, I am. I was just going to …” Where was she going? She’d mapped out her classes and tried to memorize the paths she’d take, but hadn’t bothered to think about stopping for food. Brilliant.

  “I’m going to Peabody if you want to come,” the girl continued.

  Arielle’s phone buzzed in her hand and she mumbled something to the girl while checking it. Her mom wanted to know how her first two classes were.

  Fine, Arielle answered, but now I’m starving and I don’t know where to eat. LOL

  Want me to look up the best dining halls? On the Google?

  Mom. Seriously?

  I’m just saying …

  Arielle shook her head and smiled. “My mom,” she said to the girl, who she’d kept pace with as they left the building without a second thought.

  The girl smiled, holding up her phone. “Mine too, though I mostly ignore her.”

  “Aw, no!” Arielle laughed. “She can’t be that bad.”

  “She’s ridiculous. She means well, but…yeah.”

  “What do you mean?” Arielle asked as they pushed into the dining hall, one of the old-fashioned ones where you went through a line to get hot food.

  “I don’t know. She’s always trying to, like, connect with me, but…it never really works. You know? We just don’t have a lot of things in common, no matter how badly she wants us to. That’s why I’m here, I guess. It just made me feel too guilty all the time.”

  Arielle’s grumbling stomach told her to get an extra piece of garlic bread to go with the lasagna the lunch worker served up, which looked surprisingly delicious. “What do you mean, why you’re here? You’re not from Indiana?”

  They slid into seats across from each other and the girl laughed. God, she had a beautiful laugh. Light and full at the same time.

  “No, I’m from California. Silicon Valley.”

  “Hold on. You’re from California, where it’s all green and blue on Google maps, to the wasteland of cows and corn and flat highways and gray winters? To stay here for four years?”

  The girl smiled and stabbed at a cherry tomato with her fork. “Yep. I just wanted some distance, I guess.”

  Arielle nodded as though she understood, even though she really didn’t. Which was why she shoved a bite of lasagna into her mouth, blushing when some of the cheese stringed over her chin and she had to fumble for something to wipe it away.

  “Can’t believe I haven’t introduced myself yet. Lauren,” the girl said, holding out her hand just as Arielle crumpled the sauce-smeared napkin. Arielle’s hand jumped at the opportunity for contact, and slid into Lauren’s. “Arielle,” she managed to squeak out.

  If her phone hadn’t buzzed against her thigh, she never would have let go. She flipped it over. Mom. Again.

  Did you find some food? #Jewishmother

  Arielle scoffed, and put the phone back down.

  “Mom again?” Lauren asked.

  “Yep. Hold on.” Arielle’s fingers flew over the phone’s keyboard, letting mom know that she found a place.

  Mom: That’s good. It’s the worst when you can’t find food. Once I went on a day trip to some outlet mall that Aunt Sharon said was the absolute best.

  Arielle: And?

  Mom: And there were no good bargains, but worse, the only place to eat anywhere close to the stores was Chick-fil-A.

  Arielle: So?

  Mom: So I can’t eat there.

  Arielle: What are you talking about? You don’t keep kosher.

  Mom: No, but they lobby against gay rights. And I love you.

  Arielle stifled a laugh with her fingertips and shook her head at the phone.

  “What?” Lauren asked, a small bemused smile on her face as she picked at her own lasagna.

  “She just…she really loves me, and she tries so hard to be supportive. She just misses the mark a little bit.” Arielle giggled again.

  “Okay, but doesn’t that annoy the hell out of you?”

  “Not really. Most of the time it’s just funny.”

  “Let me see,” Lauren said, reaching across the little table and snatching the phone from Arielle.

  Immediately, Arielle froze up. Did her messages with Mom scream “big fat lesbo?” She didn’t think so
. Mom loved the word ‘ally,’ but Arielle didn’t think she’d used it just now. Had she?

  Lauren’s eyebrows made a funny wave across her forehead as one went up and the other went down. Jesus, that was adorable. “I don’t get it.”

  “Oh, it’s just…she has a political thing against Chick-fil-A.”

  This is stupid, Arielle. Just tell her. You’re out, you’re proud, for Christ’s sake. What do you care if she knows?

  But Arielle knew that what she wanted most in this moment was to spend more time with Lauren. She also knew that she was terrified this enchanting girl wouldn’t ever hang out with her again if she knew. Irrational, stupid, against everything she stood for, yes. That didn’t change the absolute truth of it.

  “Oh, the gay thing?” Lauren asked, and Arielle’s heart dropped into her stomach. All that stress for nothing—the girl wasn’t stupid. “Assholes. That reminds me of one of my best friends back home, though. Neither of her dads would buy Barilla pasta, and the week after that Honey Maid commercial with two dads and a baby, they bought every box in the store. Sylvie—my friend—hates graham crackers.”

  “Oh my God, that’s like exactly the same thing,” Arielle laughed, still keeping a careful eye on Lauren. What did she think about gay people? Did she understand them at all? If she understood, was she freaked out that Arielle was gay? Had she made all the connections yet?

  Lauren chewed and swallowed before speaking again. “Anyway, obviously your mom loves you. There’s not a lot of activism to do these days, I don’t think. People don’t really mind gay kids. Half the gay kids at my high school were out by the end of freshman year with no problem. But I think for parents…they want to protect their kids, and fifteen years ago, gay kids needed that. You know?”

  “Okay, so you think my mom is legit, but your mom annoys you?”

  “It’s…different. I mean, not to diminish your mom’s LGBT fixation, but my mom wanted a daughter so badly, and never could get pregnant, so she adopted me from China. And then like once a year, at the Chinese New Year, there would be a dragon cake, and sometimes she’d take me for a photo shoot in traditional Chinese clothing.”

  “So what? I bet you were adorable,” Arielle said, realizing how that might have sounded only after the words left her mouth. She was still adorable, but not in an awwww way. More like Arielle could watch her smile and eat and talk for hours, and not get tired of her.

  “Oh, I was,” Lauren said. “But that was it. No Chinese school, no meetups with other adopted girls, no trips to China. So she was kind of making me into this Chinese poser. When I was little, she put me in karate classes, and I only realized karate was a Japanese thing after I’d earned two belts.”

  “Belts, huh?” Arielle asked, chewing another bite. “Sounds like something a karate master would have.”

  “No, that’s the thing!” Lauren said. “I wasn’t even good at being fake Chinese. I sucked at karate—couldn’t stand how controlled it was, how subdued. It was like it was challenging and boring at the same time, I guess? Anyway, my sensei saw how crazy the stances and poses were making me, and put me in striking class instead. Thank God.”

  “That sounds terrifying. Is that where you break boards and shit?”

  “Nope. It’s just the formal name for kickboxing.”

  “You’re a kickboxer? Like you wear gloves and everything?”

  Lauren laughed. “Yep. Usually people are surprised because I’m kind of…quiet, maybe? And a little shy?”

  “You don’t seem shy to me.”

  Lauren’s grin had melted into a soft smile as she looked right in Arielle’s eyes. “Maybe that’s because I like you. With most people, it takes me a while to get comfortable with them, but for some reason, you’re different.”

  Well hell. That sounded like a come-on if ever Arielle had heard one. Get your head on straight, you crazy person. Most of the world isn’t gay. Chances are, this girl isn’t either. Most people don’t think twice about saying something like that. She probably just wants to be friends.

  Thank God she had a mouthful of food. She could chew and swallow before responding. Maybe she could wipe her mouth with her napkin, and breaking eye contact would break this weird hold Lauren seemed to have on her.

  She did just that, and looked up at Lauren again. Had her clear, steady eyes turned down the slightest bit? Was she sad?’

  “Yeah. I…umm…me too. I don’t make friends easily.”

  “Well, sounds like it’s a lucky day for both of us. Should we do this again Thursday?”

  Was she asking her out? “Um…okay. What time?”

  “After class?” Lauren asked, her eyes seeming to sparkle with some kind of amusement now. “Because I’ll see you then?”

  Of course. In class. When Lauren would see her whether she wanted to or not. Not a come-on, just a convenience. Arielle’s heart sank, even though there was still one big thing she had to figure out before she could let herself get truly interested in this girl—was she gay?

  Her stomach was back to twisting, and she pulled on the fake-cheery smile she’d gotten so good at in the two weeks—God, had it already been two weeks?—since Rachel had broken her heart.

  And then she realized—Rachel’s gorgeous eyes and sweet smile hadn’t crossed her mind in hours. Ever since she’d first seen Lauren.

  That was a good thing, romantic prospect or no.

  Thinking about the next time she’d see Lauren brought Arielle’s thoughts back to that insane class they’d just attended. “I so wish I could drop that class.”

  “No! Why?” Lauren looked at her like she had just told her she was going to stay in bed under a blanket for the next five years. Like she was already planning on seeing Arielle twice a week for the next fourteen weeks, and would be crushed if she didn’t.

  Arielle’s lips twitched. “I don’t know. I thought I was interested in women’s studies, like maybe for a career? I thought I was really passionate about the issues, but after listening to Professor Bennett, I think I’m pretty ambivalent.”

  Lauren scoffed. “I think Virginia Woolf would look ambivalent compared to her. What kind of a career would you even get with a women’s studies major?”

  Arielle screwed up her mouth in thought. “Um…teach? Lobby? I really have no idea,” she finally admitted. “I just figured I would really like the class. Enough to make it my major.” When she said it out loud, it sounded like the dumbest thing possible. “Academics weren’t my first priority in coming here, exactly,” she rushed to explain. And that just made her sound even dumber. Awesome.

  “You didn’t come to Indiana Northern, one of the best schools in the Midwest, for academics? Then why are you here?”

  Arielle pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  “Ugh,” Lauren said. “Didn’t get in where you wanted? That’s tough. I know how that feels. I didn’t get into Harvard, and my dad didn’t want to pay for Columbia, even though it has an amazing premed program.”

  Arielle tried hard to keep from choking on her pop. Those were schools she hadn’t even considered. Even if she did find out that Lauren was the proudest of lesbians, and therefore dateable, she’d be out of Arielle’s league. On every level.

  “No, I did, I just…decided not to go there.” God, this was going downhill fast. She stuffed a bite of pie into her mouth.

  “Well, if you want, I can help. I mean, with the whole major situation.”

  Arielle’s eyebrows went up. “No, you know exactly what you’re doing with your life, and I’m not going to do that. At all.” Arielle could barely remember the chemistry class she’d barely earned a B in last year. Pre-med was definitely out of the question.

  Lauren laughed. “We could tackle it together. I mean, if you want. We can, you know, research a lot of different jobs, maybe. Go see what they’re like.”

  Arielle stared at Lauren, her heart skipping a beat. She had only just met this girl and she was willing to put up with Arielle’s chronic indecision
, and possibly a gross lack of ambition? The fact that Arielle had at least a year to figure out what she wanted to do was irrelevant. Her stomach flipped again.

  “I mean…I’m sure you have friends and everything, so. I don’t know.” Lauren stared at her fingernails. Were her cheeks flushing? “I just thought it might be fun to…you know …”

  Arielle had never tried to date out in the wild. She wasn’t one hundred percent sure of the line between flirting and friendship, especially with other girls. Lauren probably wasn’t gay, and if she was, why would she flirt with Arielle when she was so perfect?

  But something whispered in the back of Arielle’s mind that Lauren was more than a California girl at an Indiana school, and she was doing more than trying to make a new friend.

  Arielle’s phone buzzed, and she growled, “Mom,” secretly grateful to the little glowing screen for the interruption. It was Amy.

  Meet you outside Watkins in five?

  Shit. They had bio lecture together, along with about five hundred people. The first day of classes, they’d hunted for the lecture hall on the edge of the vast campus together, and on the second day, they’d run into each other on the way. Arielle smiled at the offer, and texted back Sure. On a campus this humungous, it was nice to have someone you knew walking beside you.

  “You know what? That sounds great,” Arielle said, standing up and gathering her things. “The jobs thing.”

  Lauren perked up, her smile a mix of happiness and relief. “So, Thursday?”

  “See you then. I’ve uh…I’ve gotta go. To my next class. I’m meeting someone. She’s just a friend, but…I mean…it’s across campus, and …” God, she was an idiot.

  “See you then,” Lauren said, pulling out a tablet and a laptop, the motion of her body waving her scent toward Arielle. She breathed it in and smiled. It was beautiful, happy and light. And it was definitely not peach.