What We Left Behind

by Robin Talley

  “I’m okay,” I say. “I like my friends a lot.”

  “I like them, too,” Chris says. “Very friendly. As friends should be.”

  “Yeah, they’re good guys.”

  “That they are. Guys, I mean. Is there anything you want to tell me, Toni, my love?”

  “Uh, yeah.” This is as good a time as any. At least we aren’t making eye contact. I take a deep breath and start to say, I identify as genderqueer. Or gender nonconforming. Or—something. I don’t know yet. I’m still figuring it out. Is that okay? That I’m still figuring it out?

  Instead I say, “I think I have to break up with Gretchen.”

  Chris drops the beer. It lands on hir foot. “Ow!”

  “That’s what you get when you drop a full can of beer,” I say. I’m trying to sound light, but my heart is pounding. I’m as shocked as Chris that I just said that.

  I’ve been trying to figure out what to do for weeks now, but I’ve never actually thought about breaking up. Breaking up has always been the last thing I’d ever want to do.

  Now that I’ve said it out loud, though, everything feels different.

  Chris hops on one foot. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “Sorry.”

  I lead us to another section of steps, where it’s a little quieter, and sit down.

  “There will be no more of this talk.” Chris sits down next to me and waves a finger in my face. “You and Gretchen are getting married and having little pink-haired babies and that’s the end of it.”

  “Chris.”

  “You guys have been the relationship model that I’ve aspired to for as long as I’ve known I was supposed to aspire to relationship models, okay? It didn’t work out with Steven and me, yeah, but that’s because Steven sucks. Literally, and often. It’s not because my entire understanding of romance is flawed due to your shortcomings.”

  “Chris.” I sigh. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t actually about you.”

  “You like someone else, right?” Chris pulls away and looks at me, hard. “It’s that Derek.”

  “Chris! No! God!” I can’t believe this. Maybe Chris doesn’t know me as well as I thought. Or maybe neither of us knows each other that well now that we’re off in our own separate college universes. “It’s nothing like that. Derek’s a guy, for starters.”

  “Well, I didn’t know if maybe you were into guys now. Those kinds of guys at least.”

  “‘Those kinds of guys’? What, like they’re alien creatures? Do you not have trans people at Yale?”

  “Oh, uh.” Chris frowns. “I guess we do. I bet I’d know some if I’d joined one of the gay groups. Everyone in those groups are just so full of themselves, though. Besides, I meet plenty of guys on the crew team as it is.”

  I laugh. My heart has slowed down to a flutter. “There’s more to joining organizations than meeting potential hookup partners.”

  “If you say so. Anyway, look, I don’t want to get off track, because this part is important.”

  “Which part?”

  “The part where you’re crazy.”

  “Chris, listen to me—”

  “No, you listen.”

  Chris gives me that look again. I shrink back. I don’t remember Chris being so intimidating in high school. Maybe it’s those new, even bigger crew-team muscles. They make my friend look slightly like a blond, gay Superman.

  “Seriously,” Chris says. “You think you’ll ever find someone like Gretchen again? Someone gorgeous and smart who’ll put up with all your BS and think it’s cute? Because I hate to break it to you, but you won’t.”

  “What?” I can’t tell how much of that was a joke. “You’re saying Gretchen’s too good for me?”

  Only I get to think that.

  “I’m saying she’s one in a million,” Chris says. “And you’re an idiot. If I met a guy version of Gretchen, I’d hang on for dear life.”

  “I’ve been hanging on for dear life.” My heart is beating fast again. The words are coming fast, too. Faster than I can think them. “I don’t think it’s working. I think Gretchen would be a lot better off without me, and I think she—I mean, ze—knows that, too. Gretchen’s just too nice to say so.”

  Wow. I can’t believe those words even entered my brain.

  I don’t want to take them back, though. Even though they hurt.

  “You’re crazy,” Chris says. “She worships you.”

  “Gretchen doesn’t really know me.”

  “So, what, all your awesome new friends do?”

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  Chris is still giving me that look. Probably thinking about what Steven did. Thinking I’m just as bad.

  It isn’t like that, though. I’m not talking about abandoning Gretchen on some sort of stupid whim. I’m taking this seriously. I’m trying to be mature.

  “Not to knock your Harvard friends, because they’re great and all,” Chris says. “But you’re still getting to know them, and they’re all older than you. What are you going to do when they graduate? Do you have any friends in your own year? I mean, seriously, do you really want to cut things off with your real best friend right now?”

  “It’ll be a long time before the guys graduate.” Besides, I prefer not to think about what will happen after that.

  “Well, either way, you’re crazy.” Chris sighs. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but breaking up sucks. Just look at me.”

  Yes. I’m extremely aware that breaking up sucks.

  I’m really worried about it, actually. All these awful scenarios keep running through my head.

  Gretchen gets, well. Kind of emotional sometimes. What if I do something and it makes Gretchen, like—really, really upset? So upset I need to—I don’t know—be worried?

  No. It’s ridiculously arrogant of me to think I’m that important. That a couple of words from me could be enough to set off something like that. I’ve got to stay rational here.

  “I know you feel wretched, but that’s because your breakup only just happened,” I tell Chris. “The wretchedness will fade.”

  “Toni. He first cheated on me a month ago.”

  This is new information. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. He told me right after it happened. I cried, he cried, he said he was sorry and promised he’d never do it again, and I took him back and tried to act like nothing had happened. Then, a couple of days ago, he changed his mind and dumped me, after all. Once he got over the initial wave of guilt, I guess, he realized he wanted to be free to pursue his herpes agenda more than he wanted me. He was too nice to cheat on me again while we were still together, I’ll give him that, but he wasn’t too nice to break my heart.”

  “Jeez, Chris. I’m sorry.”

  “So.” Ze coughs. “You can see why I’m not thrilled at the idea of you doing the same thing to a good friend of mine.”

  I look down at the crumbling step. “It wouldn’t be like that. I’d never cheat on Gretchen. If we broke up, it wouldn’t be for some petty reason. Plus, I haven’t decided for sure. I’d only do it if I thought there was no other choice.”

  “T, I’m sorry, but there’s always a choice.”

  “It doesn’t make sense anymore!” I don’t know why Chris can’t see this. It’s all so clear in my head. “Me and Gretchen! We never made sense. Gretchen’s always been way out of my league. We make even less sense now than we did before.”

  “Why don’t you make sense?” Chris asks.

  “All I do anymore is drag everything down.”

  I can’t tell how much of what I’m saying is the beer and how much is real. Every word feels real, but this can’t possibly all be true, can it?

  “Gretchen’s always stuck trying to cheer me up,” I say. “Trying to get me
to talk about stuff I don’t know how to talk about. Trying to understand stuff ze can’t understand.”

  “Have you explained it? Maybe she can understand.”

  “No, Gretchen can’t. And, no offense, neither can you.”

  I stop. I don’t have to look at Chris’s face to know I’ve gone too far.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, even faster now. “I didn’t mean that you aren’t—”

  “I get it, T. Please don’t fall all over yourself trying to apologize. It’s embarrassing.”

  Chris exhales and slings an arm across my shoulders. We look out across the Yard at everyone else having the time of their lives. My roommates, Joanna and Felicia, are across from us, messing around with their friends from their a cappella group. They look happier than I’ve ever seen them. Probably because they don’t know I’m in such close proximity.

  I heard them talking about me yesterday. I was in my room and they were in the common room, watching The Flighted Ones and getting ready for some party you can’t get into unless your name’s on a list. Once they turned the TV off, I could hear every word they said. They still haven’t figured out how thin the walls are. I have no clue how either of them got into Harvard.

  “It’s like, why can’t she just be a lesbian and be done with it?” Felicia asked.

  “She’s too cool for that,” Joanna said. “Being a lesbian is boring. Being—whatever she is, that’s the new trendy thing.”

  “It’s antifeminist.” Felicia went to one session from a Women, Gender and Sexuality class before she switched to Social Studies. We’ve all been suffering for it ever since. “It’s saying women can’t be strong, so if you want to be strong you have to be a guy.”

  “Yeah,” Joanna said. “I can totally see that. Do you think we should tell her or something?”

  “Like she’d listen. She’s so full of herself.”

  After that I put on my headphones and stayed in my room, working on a paper that wasn’t due until Wednesday for my Expos class. I didn’t even come out to pee until I heard them bang the door closed on their way out.

  Usually I just laughed them off, but that conversation stuck with me. Even though obviously everything they said was bull. None of what I’ve been doing has anything to do with trends or being cool. And I’m not full of myself.

  Besides, who the hell are they to talk? Joanna gets up at six in the morning to start a ninety-minute hair-care regimen, and Felicia wears designer high heels every day even though they always get caught in the sidewalks. Joanna and Felicia are the ultimate gender conformists. Neither of them has the right to talk about feminism until they stop posting pictures of themselves in bikinis.

  “So, here’s the thing, T,” Chris finally says. We’ve been sitting quietly for a long time, but I look back up, glad to have something to focus on other than my roommates. “It sounds to me as if you’re making excuses.”

  “Excuses for what?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just that your train of thought on this is, to put it mildly, extremely hard to follow, and that’s always a giveaway. Mind if I smoke, by the way?”

  “If you what?” Chris pulls out a cigarette while I watch in horror. “You smoke now?”

  “Only when I’m stressed.” Chris lights up, inhales and blows out a long string of smoke. I cough. “Like when my friend tells me something completely crazy out of nowhere.”

  “You really think I’m that far off base?”

  “Maybe...but I think you have to do what you think you have to do.”

  “I love Gretchen.” I wish I still had that beer. “I don’t want Gretchen to be with anyone but me.”

  “Well, that tells you what you should do, then.”

  “I don’t know if it does.” I tug on the back of my hair. Gel comes off on my fingers. I wipe it on the step. “I don’t know if loving someone and not wanting them to be with someone else is enough of a reason to stay. Not when there are other complicating factors.”

  “If you love someone, isn’t that the complicating factor?”

  “Love doesn’t exist in a vacuum.” I take a breath, forcing myself to go slowly. “Chris, honestly, you should see how awful I’ve been lately. I’m so self-absorbed and bratty. I’ve even lied a couple of times. I used to never, ever lie to Gretchen. I planned this summer internship in England without even asking what ze thought, like a total asshole. It’s as if all I care about anymore is me.”

  Chris nods.

  “I need to narrow my life down,” I say. “It’s not fair of me to string us both along this way. Gretchen’s bound to meet someone else who will actually be a decent girlfriend.”

  And if I end things now, I get to spare myself the trauma of seeing that happen up close.

  Chris takes another puff. “Look. Just be straight with me. You’re absolutely sure there isn’t somebody else in the picture on your end?”

  “Yes!” I can’t believe Chris is still obsessed with this. “God, there’s no one else. I wouldn’t even have time for anyone else.”

  “I only ask because, in my experience, ninety-nine point nine percent of the time when someone decides they need to break up out of thin air, and they have this long laundry list of reasons why, the real reason is they want to go out with someone else. Or multiple someone elses.”

  “Well, trust me, I’m in the other point one percent.”

  “Okay, okay, if you insist.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “You brought it up,” Chris says. “I thought you were just going to tell me the reason you started talking all funny is because you’re a dude now.”

  I throw up my hands. Suddenly I feel like laughing. Of course. Chris has probably known all along. Chris probably knew before I knew. “I can’t get anything by you, can I?”

  “Relax, T. It’s all good. Hey, do you still not do hugs?”

  I think about it. “Maybe it’s time I reconsidered that policy.”

  We hug. It’s been so long since I hugged someone who wasn’t Gretchen, I’m not entirely sure I’m doing it right.

  “It’s good to see you again,” Chris says. “Especially the new, dude you.”

  I swallow. It’s so weird to hear hir say that. “I know what you mean.”

  “I missed this.”

  “Me, too.”

  We pull back. I can’t look at Chris after what we just said. I know Chris is a good guy, but even good guys start looking at you differently after they find out something like that.

  “I’ll see you again in a few days anyway, right?” Chris says. “For Thanksgiving.”

  “Ugh. I guess.”

  “Not looking forward to the trip?”

  “That is a gross understatement.”

  “I know. Me neither. I’m so not ready to see Steven.”

  “I’m not ready to see anyone.”

  “Anyone meaning your mom?”

  I don’t answer. I mean my mother, yes, but for once, there are things I’m dreading even more about this particular holiday. Like talking to Audrey.

  And talking to Gretchen.

  We get up, stepping carefully to avoid the alcohol puddles, and cross the Yard. Chris’s Yale sweatshirt gets more angry looks, but there’s no yelling this time.

  “You’ve got a good thing going here,” Chris says. “Maybe I should transfer next year.”

  “Like you’d ever.”

  “Yeah, okay, call my bluff. You should come down for the Race, though. It’ll be fun. The crew team leaders might let me in the freshman race.”

  “Doesn’t Harvard always kick Yale’s ass at the Race?”

  “Yeah. So you’ll have a good time.”

  “Okay, then, it’s a plan.”

  Chris holds up a hand. “
High five.”

  We high-five and laugh as we walked up the steps to the guys’ house.

  Maybe it will all be okay.

  Thanksgiving break is a few days away. I still have time to think about how to handle this.

  I still have time to make up my mind.

  Even though my palms are already sweating.

  12

  NOVEMBER

  FRESHMAN YEAR OF COLLEGE

  1 DAY TOGETHER

  GRETCHEN

  “I can’t believe they’re together again,” Toni says.

  “I can,” I say. “They love each other. They’re a good couple, deep down.”

  “Steven cheated on him.”

  “Chris said he forgave him. Besides, you see how they are when they’re together. They make each other happy.”

  “I’m just saying, three days ago Chris was totally heartbroken, and now they’re both acting like everything’s fine. It’s great that they like being together, but that doesn’t make them a good couple. I like diet soda, but it’s still full of all those chemicals that give you cancer and stuff, you know?”

  It’s the night before Thanksgiving. We’re home in DC, in the car coming back from a party at Renee’s house with our high school friends. Chris and Steven spent the first half of the night making catty comments about each other from across the room. Then they started making out on the love seat.

  We’re driving to Toni’s house now. When we get there, Toni’s going to come out to Audrey.

  Neither of us mentions that.

  It’s been a tense visit already, between Toni getting all annoyed about Chris and what happened when we first arrived at Toni’s house this afternoon. Instead of saying hello, Mrs. Fasseau, who hadn’t seen Toni since August, walked into the kitchen, took one look at Toni and me standing by the counter and asked, “Can anyone tell me why my daughter is walking around this city dressed like a vagrant?”

  Besides being mean, what she said didn’t even make any sense. Toni isn’t wearing a binder this weekend, and aside from the now permanently affixed Red Sox baseball cap, T really doesn’t look any different than before.