“I realized she’d become more of a security blanket than anything else. Security blankets have a purpose, but if I am going to fall for someone, really truly fall, I need to be with someone willing to challenge me. To make me see things differently and encourage me to try new things.”
I turned my head slowly and met his eyes. My gaze traveled from his eyes to his mouth and quickly back up. If I shifted my weight even marginally we’d be touching, and that realization sent sparks up the right side of my body.
“Danielle—” he started as the city hall doors flung open. The last speech had finished and everyone was leaving. I bolted up to stand and looked down at him, sitting.
“I should go. You should go,” I said.
His face dropped along with my heart. What was I doing?
“You’re right,” he said. He stood up and started to walk away. He turned around to look at me right inside the door as if to show me this was my last chance to stop him. Half of me stayed firmly planted in place while the other half wanted to run to him. The sensible, in-a-relationship half won out as he walked out the door.
The moments of the day flashed before my eyes—me looking up to find him in the audience, the feeling of him being so close to me, his looking into my eyes. Porter was the first person I told about my internship—the first person who I wanted to tell anything just to see his reaction. Everything that I’d tried to push aside between us in the past few months—every look, that kiss—why did I keep pretending like nothing was changing inside me?
I couldn’t just let him go. I ran out the door to follow him, looking up and down the block for any sign of him. I was too late. He was already gone.
I strolled down the sidewalk and got into the Jankmobile, slowly admitting what I already knew deep down. I was falling in love with Porter. Heck, I was deep in it already. My only reservation all along had been my relationship with Luke, which seemed to be something I constantly had to nurture. I had loved him once, so many years ago, but the love of an eleven-year-old does not make for a fulfilling relationship at eighteen.
To be fair to him, I knew what my dreaded mission for the evening would be. I had to break things off with Luke.
FRUSTRATION:
a feeling of dissatisfaction often accompanied by anxiety or depression, resulting from unfulfilled needs or unresolved problems.
I woke up to the sounds of chatter downstairs, a very male voice filtering up through the vents. If my suspicions were correct, Luke Upton was in my kitchen. This day just got a whole lot more anxiety-ridden.
I threw on my clothes for class that I’d laid out the night before and did a quick spruce before heading downstairs. He sat at our kitchen counter with two Cup o’ Moe’s to-go cups, and the gesture squeezed harder at my heart. He was in the middle of a conversation with my mom when they both realized I’d come into the room.
“Isn’t this a nice surprise, Danielle?” she asked.
“Very nice,” I replied. I walked over and took a sip of my coffee, which had been sweetened just to my liking. Damn it, he was not making this any easier. “Thank you, this is very sweet.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, leaning in to give me a kiss. I turned my head at the last moment so it landed on my cheek, and he searched my eyes.
“Hey, do, uh, do you want to go for a walk?” I asked, my hands shaking. My mom made eye contact with me and her eyes widened, hearing the implication of my question. She politely excused herself as Luke followed me outside.
“This does not look good for me, Cavanaugh,” he said.
“I just … wanted to talk,” I said. He waited for me to elaborate. “What are we doing?”
“I think you’re giving me the breakup talk,” he said.
“No,” I said, blushing. “What are we doing in this relationship? We barely see each other, and when we do it’s mostly … physical. Do you feel like you’re missing something in this relationship?”
“Do you?” he asked.
“Kind of,” I admitted shyly.
He put his hands in his pockets and leaned his head back. “I can be more emotional. Let me at least try to be more emotional.”
“I don’t think it’s something we should have to work on—I feel like it’s something that’s either there or it’s not,” I said, feeling bolder.
“There’s nothing else fueling this conversation? No one else?” he asked.
He saw my cringe. I have the worst poker face, especially when it comes to big lies of the heart. He shook his head and walked a few steps away from me.
“Porter?” he asked. When I didn’t respond he let out a little laugh. “I told Emilie she was paranoid for thinking you two were hooking up, but I guess I was wrong. How long has he been emotional with you for?”
“We haven’t done anything, but thanks for the assumption about my character,” I said.
“Hey, I’m the one being broken up with. I’m allowed to react a little, okay?” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. For so many things. Those words hung on the tip of my tongue as my voice was sucked away from me.
“It’s probably for the best,” he said, finally facing me again. “I’m transferring to the University of Iowa in the spring for training.”
“That’s—awesome,” I said. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he said. He looked around for a moment before walking toward his car. “I think I’m just going to go home. I’m not good at these things.”
“Oh,” I said in surprise. “Okay. Luke? I am sorry. I wanted this to work out.”
“I know you did,” he said. “Sometimes your heart makes a shit show out of what you think you want.”
“Was that a roundabout way of saying the heart wants what the heart wants?” I asked.
“I can be emotional, okay?” he said, a small smile on his face. “Bye, Dani.”
“Bye, Luke.”
I walked back inside after watching him leave, feeling numb. When I pictured a breakup with Luke Upton so many years ago, I thought it would lead to my ultimate devastation. That admitting that we weren’t going to end up together with a big fancy wedding and two-point-five eventual children would be the most horrific thought in the universe. I didn’t know what it said about me that I felt nothing in this moment. Was I processing? Or was this something I’d processed a while ago when I subconsciously had been giving small parts of myself to someone else?
“Did Luke leave?” Mom asked as I walked into the kitchen.
“We broke up,” I said. “So yeah, he bolted the hell out of here.”
“What? What happened?” she asked.
“We weren’t compatible, Mom. I think we were both staying together because the idea of each other was better than actually being together. Like it was some cheesy Hallmark movie where the boy next door comes home and realizes how cute the little dorky girl next door has been the whole time,” I said.
“So you’re okay?” she asked.
“I’m still going to binge on cookie dough and reruns of Gilmore Girls when I get home tonight, but yes, I’ll be okay,” I said. I grabbed my backpack and shrugged as I headed back out the door. “I’m going to be late to lit.”
“You can take the day off if you want. I don’t have any sessions this morning; I could be your binge buddy for the day,” she said.
I walked up and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you for the offer, but skipping this class will not help me pass.”
“I like the sound of that,” Mom said.
I looked at the clock and cursed, realizing how late I was for class. I hopped into the Jankmobile and felt the same blank feeling I had back at home. I drove along for a few minutes, tapping my fingers absentmindedly before my phone rang. I did the safe-driver thing and put the call on speakerphone.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Danielle, this is Ameera,” she said. From her tone I thought she was going to fire me—that she’d somehow seen my speech and was disappointed in how I represented Green T
ransitions in the meeting.
“Hi, Ameera, how are you?” I asked.
“Great, actually. I just got word from Denton that they have approved the environmental impact audit. You did it, Danielle,” she said.
“You’re kidding,” I replied. “That’s amazing!”
“I think you have a bright future ahead of you, Danielle. I wanted to tell you about an opportunity that I’m taking up this semester in case you’re interested. I’ve been asked to be an adjunct professor at Case Western next semester in their Environmental Studies department. I know we’ve chatted about you transferring either this semester or next year, and I think this department would be a good fit for you. No pressure, but I think it’s worth applying if you’re serious about staying in this field,” she said.
“Thank you for the info,” I said. “I will most definitely look into it. Thank you for thinking of me.”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m proud of all the hard work you’ve done in the few months I’ve known you.”
“Thank you. That truly means a lot,” I said.
“Have a great day. I’ll see you Thursday,” she said.
She hung up, and my heart filled with warmth. I’d made a difference in my community just by speaking up for what I believed in. Even if Denton decided to ignore any of the ideas that came back from the audit, they still made the step toward changing. That was huge—especially for a city so rooted in its ideals. I had a smile planted on my face for the rest of the ride and made a large note in my phone when I parked at DCC:
LOOK INTO CASE WESTERN ENVIRONMENTAL STUDIES PROGRAM.
When I walked in Mr. Harrisburg winked at me, and I gave him a small wave. Our newfound friendship after the city council meeting was a little strange considering our past, but I could dig it.
“A quick reminder to all my procrastinating folks. Your final paper is due in two weeks when the class meets for the last time,” he said. His last sentence was met with a collective groan. “Be happy that I’m reminding you now so your little brains start churning early.”
He turned his back to us as we sat in mild states of panic thinking about the paper. He wrote “finishing up Moby-Dick” in chicken scratch that I could barely make out.
“So what did we all think?” he asked.
“They all lost their minds and then died,” said Brent, a dude of few but well-chosen words.
“I guess, yes, that’s technically accurate. But let’s look at it from a more … literary standpoint. What does it mean that Ishmael was the only one to survive?” Mr. Harrisburg asked.
“I mean, it’s obviously an allusion to weak enterprise eventually destroying everyone and everything, correct?” a girl named Elizabeth said.
“Yes, if you’re looking at the entire ship as a metaphor for corporation,” said Mr. Harrisburg. “Let’s talk about Ahab’s final good speech to Starbuck. He talks about seeing home in Starbuck’s eyes and about how he hasn’t left the sea for forty years. Abandoned his wife, a steady life on land—why is he telling Starbuck this in one of their last moments together?”
Elizabeth raised her hand again. “He says he sees home in his eyes. He sees everything he never got to experience that he’s now too old and destroyed to do.”
“Or he wants his only real human connection to be happy,” said Abbie.
“That’s more of what I was going for,” Mr. Harrisburg said. “Ahab doesn’t connect, really, with anyone in the novel except for Starbuck. He tells him to make his own fate, and that is how you find happiness. He’s giving him the advice that he would give his son, almost. Does everyone feel that way?”
I felt my throat scratching. “Starbuck has given Ahab everything; I think he’s trying to give him something in calling his eyes home. Like telling him that he can be happy when he’s moved on … but ultimately I guess it doesn’t matter. His loyalty is too strong.”
Mr. Harrisburg smiled at me. “Not too shabby for a poetry hater.”
* * *
If I had a day to lie in bed and be sad it would have been today. So naturally the universe decided that I should have to work. Plus, it was a Wednesday. My shift with Porter day. What would I say to him? Would I admit that things had changed? Or would we go on like nothing happened? I was mid-freak-out when I walked into the store. To my surprise, Misty sat on a stool perched behind the register.
“I’ve missed having you in lately,” she said.
“Wait, I thought—”
“Porter had to take the day off,” she said. “Family emergency.”
I gulped. This either had to do with his dad, which I’d overheard him and Emilie talk about, or his mom, which he’d opened up to me about. The scary toss-up made me want to reach out to him even more. To be a source of comfort. “I’m going to drop my dinner off in the back and then I’ll get to work.”
She shooed me to the back room, and I pulled out my phone. I had to know if there was any way that I could help him.
ME: Are you okay? Can I do anything for you?
I waited five minutes for a reply, fiddling with my phone case and picking at a hangnail in my nervousness. I was about to leave it in my bag and head out to the front when it buzzed.
PORTER: I’m good.
ME: You sure?
PORTER: Don’t worry about me. I’m okay.
ME: If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.
I didn’t get any more texts for the rest of my shift. His lack of response worried me more than I would like to admit.
* * *
When I got home the rest of the household was asleep; only the light from the TV and my dad’s snoring let me know that they were still home. I made my way into the kitchen and grabbed my leftover milkshake from yesterday, inducing a horrible onset of brain freeze. I sat down at the counter and grabbed my head, trying to remember all the little tricks Noah and I had found over the years to get rid of the numbness in our brains. When it finally subsided, I saw a large envelope on the counter addressed to me. From Ohio State.
Dear Ms. Cavanaugh,
I wanted to take this moment to formally congratulate you on your admittance to Ohio State University for the spring semester. Due to your academic excellence in your English course, your advisor has sent over your projected transcript for the semester, which is in compliance with our policies for the Digital Communications program.
If you choose to accept your admission, please log on to your OSU account. Information for log-in is attached to your orientation packet. Please feel free to call us with any questions regarding your acceptance.
Congratulations, and we welcome you to the Ohio State University family.
Dr. Caroline Bates
Dr. Caroline Bates
Dean of Admissions
Ohio State University
My numbness up to this point diminished, and I crumpled on top of the letter, sobs coming out uncontrollably. This was all I had wanted since this summer, the second chance that I desperately needed, and I couldn’t even be excited about it. All my plans for myself had molded, melted, and re-formed so many times that it could make anyone’s head spin. Ohio State was finally in my grasp again, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept a position at a school that I didn’t feel passionate about.
I stayed up until three a.m. that night, furiously researching environmental studies and political science programs around Ohio and beyond, and made a list of schools that had rolling admissions. In the true fashion of a college psychic’s daughter, I created an extensive pros and cons list for each school, a spreadsheet detailing all the requirements for applying, and calculated the odds of admittance to each school. Armed with this knowledge, I scheduled out times during this week to get in applications to my top five schools (and to ask my mom for help, since it’s her job to create vacuum-tight applications for eager students). Failure was not an option this time.
* * *
That week was rough, to say the least. Between heavy essay revisions with Mom and making multiple
trips up to the high school for transcript requests, my life was becoming one living, breathing college app. In an effort to keep my sanity, I distracted myself by helping Zoe with her printmaking. She actually was getting a huge following online, and she’d even gotten e-mails from some local designers who wanted to feature her work. She was too humble to brag about any of this, but as the best friend I felt like I had the right to tell everyone to buy her things because she was wonderful.
The one thing that kept nagging at the back of my mind was Porter. He wasn’t replying to my texts anymore, and I increasingly wondered if Luke had talked to him about our breakup. Maybe he decided that we were better off stopping all communication—that we’d both been sending mixed signals that fooled the other into feeling something. No matter how many times I told myself that he was ignoring me on purpose, the other small part of me just worried about him. Something tragic had happened to his family, and no one had heard from him since. What if something happened to him? It was my duty as his friend to check up on him. According to the bookstore schedule, he was scheduled to work tonight. I would just drop by, make sure he was okay, and leave immediately if he wanted me to. No strings attached.
When I pulled up, I could only see Misty’s figure from the window. I hopped out of the car and went into the building—maybe Porter was in the back and I just hadn’t seen him yet. The bell on the door clinked as I walked in, and Misty jumped.
“What are you doing here tonight, girly?” she asked.
“Uh,” I said. “I, um, was wondering if Porter was working?”
She frowned. “Porter went back home this morning. Taking an early leave for break.”
I felt my shoulders slump a little—relief or devastation I still didn’t know. “Oh.”
“Hang on a second,” she said, heading into the back room. When she came out she was holding a stack of papers bound by a thick rubber band. She handed the stack to me. “He left these for you.”
I looked down at the pile of small notebook pages to see an envelope on the top with my name scribbled on the front. I unearthed the letter inside.
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