One Pink Line

by Dina Silver

  “Hello, gorgeous, you look tired.”

  “Do I look tired or gorgeous?”

  She drove me home, and we endured an afternoon with my parents, then dinner at the mall. My mother was actually quite tolerable that first night, and made only two negative comments in regard to my appearance. The first was that my oversized hooded sweatshirt wasn’t appropriate attire for dining out, and the second was that I needed a haircut. Both equally mild on a scale of one-to-offensive.

  Kendra was in her senior year at the University of Illinois, and that weekend wasn’t an official school break for her, but she’d come home to be there for me.

  “So how much time do I have with you?” she asked.

  “Ethan’s not getting in until noon tomorrow.”

  “Good, we can go for breakfast together!”

  I rubbed my belly, everything revolved around food, and the free soft serve machine in the school cafeteria wasn’t helping my waistline. “Can’t we just go for coffee or something?”

  “No, we cannot, you love that Walker Brothers Pancake House; we’ll go there for apple pancake fritters, or whatever.”

  “Fine,” it really wasn’t hard to convince me.

  After breakfast the next morning, Ethan called and said he was having lunch with his mom, and he’d come over once they were through. I couldn’t wait.

  My being home from college didn’t seem to make an impression on my mother’s schedule at all, which turned out nicely for me. She had two tennis matches on Saturday, and a friend’s birthday lunch on Sunday that she ‘really hated to cancel.’ I begged her to keep her plans, assuring her that I wanted to spend time with Ethan and Kendra.

  “Do you want to borrow my silver earrings?” Mom asked.

  “No thanks, Mom.”

  “Are you sure, here, why don’t you take them back to school with you,” she handed them to me. “You love them.”

  Finally, I realized there was only one way to make her stop asking, so I took the earrings. “Thank you, I do love these.”

  She smiled. “I can tell you’re excited to see him.”

  “I really missed him, Mom.”

  “Well then, I’m happy for you sweetie. Have fun, and be smart, okay.”

  “Always am,” I assured her.

  I watched the end of my driveway for fifteen minutes from the window in my bedroom, and began to pant like a dog as I saw the front end of Ethan’s car come around the edge of our trees. I ran downstairs as he put the car in park, flung the door open, and attacked him.

  “Oh-My-God, you smell so friggin good,” I spoke, my voice muffled, buried in his shirt.

  He kissed my head, and squeezed me really tight. “I missed you Syd,” he said.

  Ethan was wearing jeans, a long-sleeved, white cotton, waffle-knit shirt, and a baseball hat turned backwards. He looked as big and wonderful as ever.

  “Where are we headed?” I asked.

  Ethan gestured to the blankets in his backseat. “To the beach of course.”

  We spent hours catching up under Ethan’s childhood comforter on the cold sand at Gilson beach. His body was like a radiator, and I warmed every last appendage of mine on it. The air was about sixty-five degrees and we lay like a burrito talking, kissing and nuzzling each other until the sun began to set.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jenna and I pledged the same sorority, Kappa Kappa Gamma, and were inseparable for the remainder of our freshman year. My mom got a new car that winter, so I was allowed to take her old Chevy Blazer back to campus during second semester. When summer came, Jenna and I drove back home together, and I dropped her at her parents’ penthouse apartment at 1040 Lake Shore Drive. She spent two of those summer months, between our freshman and sophomore year, in Aspen, and I spent the summer at Camp Ethan.

  I had convinced my dad that the pressures of college were so much harder than I’d expected, and my appreciation for an employment-free summer break would manifest itself in the form of housework and errand girl. I promised him that he and my mother could have me at their beck and call, if only I didn’t have to serve Cobb salads at Onwentsia Country Club anymore. He acquiesced, and helped me convince my mother. Kendra opted for summer school at University of Illinois, and so did her new boyfriend.

  Camp Ethan consisted of hanging out by his parents’ pool, having one of his sisters make sandwiches for us, and spending evenings at the beach with all of our high school friends. On the days when Camp Ethan was closed, I would settle for the equally enjoyable, Camp Taylor.

  “Don’t you ever wish you had your freedom at school?” she asked me one afternoon, as we sat inside cabana four.

  “What are you getting at?

  “Well, I mean, are you really going to cut yourself off from college guys completely, for the next three years? You know I love Ethan, but you are really missing out…and so is he.”

  “Thanks.”

  “My concern is more for you, of course,” she said and shifted her body so that she was facing me. “Did I tell you that I made out with three guys in one night? It was a stupid Pimp n’ Ho theme, but Ho was it fun! I just can’t imagine not having the freedom to let loose and experiment.”

  “And be a Ho?”

  She laughed. “Trust me, you are going to want to be able to live a little. We will never have another chance to behave like this in all of our adult life.”

  I admired Taylor, I really did, and there was almost nothing she did without schoolgirl enthusiasm, but she and I were different when it came to dating. She had her pick of the litter, and I was typically left with her pick’s friend.

  “I love Ethan, and he loves me, and the fact that we met each other right before college does have its complications, but it keeps us close,” I told her.

  “You know I’m not saying you should break-up, I just wish you could experience the fun and the men. That sounds stupid, but you know what I mean,” she said, then inched closer to me. “Do you think he’s been loyal to you?” she sniffed.

  Of course I thought he’d been loyal to me, why wouldn’t he be? But her putting the question out there made me concerned. “Yes, I do.”

  She sensed my insecurity. “No, I’m sure he has, don’t take that the wrong way; I just wondered if you two ever talked about being allowed to date other people, or whatever.”

  “We haven’t, but we probably should, I guess…I don’t know. So far we’re having a great summer, and that’s all I care to concern myself with,” I said and rested my head back down on the chaise.

  When August rolled around, and camp was over, Ethan and I continued what would be our annual ritual of parting ways. Him leaning against his car, me buried deep within his arms sobbing, and the clock ticking well into the night.

  We never did have a discussion about dating other people. It was just understood, Ethan and I were in love, and why would anyone who’s in love with someone want to date anyone else?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Three years of college passed almost as quickly as people had told me they would. Every adult I’ve ever known has always bored me with tales of years flying by and what seemed like empty threats of my youth slipping away from me. But by the time I was about to enter my senior year at Purdue, I felt like I truly understood what they meant. Time had indeed flown by like a Learjet, and I was a new woman. One who was educated, mature, used to living without rules, and nervous to give up my credit card with its two-hundred dollar limit, that my dad paid for each month. My relationship with Ethan over the years had stayed strong on the friendship-end, but not so solid when it came to romance. We’d had our struggles over jealousy, distance and apathy over the years, but we remained committed to repairing our emotional wounds, and making it work.

  Ethan graduated college in June of 1990, and was set to move to Boston to start a job as an IT Manager. His parents took him and his sisters to Italy for a graduation gift, so I didn’t get to see him until late July. I remember not being very upset about it at the time. Instead, I spent my d
ays working at the country club, only that time I was answering phones and working in the Member Relations department. Fielding complaints from disgruntled members about flat Diet Coke, pool towels with frayed edges, and how they had to wait over 45 seconds for the valet. All were met with gasps and profuse apologies from me. It was a grueling task, but since it fell within my hospitality major, I was awarded two college credits for all my genuflecting. And once I realized that I should treat my mother like one of the club members, we began to get along swimmingly.

  My job at Onwentsia didn’t leave me much time for Ethan or my friends however, so he’d pick me up after work most nights, and we’d go to the beach or hang out at his house for a few hours. The week before I was due to go back to school, he took me out for dinner and pinned me down for a heart-to-heart.

  “Syd,” he started over a potato skins appetizer at Timbers restaurant. “I was thinking maybe we should have a talk, about us.”

  I placed my menu on the table and looked him in the eyes. “What about us?”

  “About our relationship,” he said. “You’re going into your senior year, and I’m moving to Boston; I mean, don’t you think we should talk about where we stand, and how we plan on staying together or seeing each other,” he studied my face. “Do you ever give any thought to our future?”

  I knew my answer should have been ‘of course I do, all the time’ but I couldn’t honestly say that to him. “Yes, I’ve given it some thought,” I assured him. “But, we’ve been apart for the past few years and made it work, so I really didn’t think this was going to be much different.”

  “Well it is different, Syd, I’m done with school, I’m moving out of state to a job where I don’t get summers off,” he made a flippant gesture with his hand. “I’ll be lucky to come home for the weekend over Christmas,” his tone was authoritative and made me feel very naïve. “I love you, Sydney, and I want us to be faithful to each other, and I know it will be hard, but I need to know that you are committed to this relationship.”

  I wondered if he threw the word faithful in as some sort of a test. Ethan and I had done our best over the years to remain true to one another, but we’d both gone to college dances with other people, hung out with members of the opposite sex, and both of us were very social beings. He had lots of female friends, and I had lots of male friends, some of whom I was extremely close with. It was college for God sakes, and we gave each other the freedom to enjoy it without feeling chained down to a long-distance relationship. Apparently once he graduated, he wanted that to change.

  I took a deep breath. “I love you, too, but I’m not ready to give up my social life during my senior year.”

  “I’m not asking you to tear apart your busy calendar,” he said sarcastically. “I’m just asking that we make more of a commitment to each other, that’s all.”

  “I don’t know,” I looked away. “I’m not ready to make that promise, and quite honestly, I’m not even sure what it entails, and I think things are fine the way they are. You’re making me feel very pressured.”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Sydney, I’m not trying to pressure you, I’m trying to tell you how much I love you, and that I want to focus my attention on us and our relationship, as best I can… and for you and I to be more serious about what we have.”

  His eyes were wide and his right hand was in a fist on the table. Ethan had changed too, he was much more settled with himself and his playful spirit had all but vanished. He sat tall in his chair, like one of those adults who spewed their infinite wisdom about how quickly time flies, and how we shouldn’t take things for granted. I still loved him very much, but I was not ready to do what he was asking.

  “Well, maybe you’ll feel differently once you move to Boston, and you won’t want to be tied down to some girl back home?”

  His expression turned to frustration. “Why are you trying to turn this around on me?”

  “I don’t know,” I said quietly and fumbled with my fork. “It’s just that, I’m not feeling what you’re feeling right now. I love you, but I don’t want to have to work at taking this relationship to the next level, I just want to have fun this year, and not worry about things between us.”

  He nodded, more in defeat than in agreement.

  “I’m sorry, Ethan, I didn’t bring this up, you did. We have a great relationship, and we’ve made it work, so why go there?”

  He waited a moment before answering. “Because I think I want more than you do.”

  I folded my hands in my lap. “I don’t know what you mean by that, I just want to get through senior year, and find a job and make a life for myself.”

  “With me or without me?” he asked.

  “With you,” I snapped.

  He looked hard at my face, trying to determine whether or not I believed what I was saying. When I glanced back at his questioning expression, I felt like getting up from that table and walking away, but I didn’t. I’d made sacrifices for him over the years and he knew it. I’d never let myself get emotionally involved with anyone else because I cared about Ethan and his feelings…and our relationship. But I was going to be a senior in college, and I had little patience for him making me feel guilty about enjoying it.

  Given our distance and growth as human beings over the years, we’d naturally drifted apart, but both still made a conscious effort to hold on to what we had, as much as we could. I never loved anyone like I loved Ethan, and in the back of my mind, I knew we’d be together one day, forever. I assumed he felt the same way.

  Saying goodbye to him that summer before my final year of college was bittersweet. It was sad to see his car packed up, not knowing when we’d be together again, yet I was really looking forward to getting back to school and seeing Jenna and all my friends. When Ethan pulled out of my driveway, on his way to Boston, he did his best to hide the tears in his eyes. But I saw them.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “FLUSHING!”

  Jenna and I lived in the Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority house for our sophomore and junior years, and shared three bathrooms with eighty other girls. Anytime you were in one of the five toilet stalls, and someone else was in one of the four shower stalls, you had to announce that you were flushing the toilet so they could prepare themselves for the surge of intensely hot water that would hit them as a result. That was only one of the many reasons we decided to get our own apartments by the time we were seniors. Sharing six telephones with eighty girls was another.

  She found a place near the student union, and mine was just a block off campus. I never, not for one minute, feared living alone, and welcomed the peace and solitude after two years in the sorority. My dad had taken me to Kmart before I left home that August, and we filled my car with new bedding, new towels, cleaning supplies, throw pillows, non-perishable foods, a tool set, light bulbs, shower curtain, answering machine, alarm clock, and a twenty-piece kit that had glassware, stemware, and plate service for four. That day at Kmart was one of the most fun afternoons with my dad that I’ve ever had. My mother had attempted to take me, but the trip turned into a screaming match over buying an extra garbage can. She insisted that one in the kitchen would suffice, and I insisted that there be one in the bathroom as well. I left with nothing more than a dustpan, and begged my father to take me without her.

  My campus apartment was very generic. Not dilapidated or icky, just really, really generic, almost asylum like. It was a furnished one bedroom, one bathroom, with a living area that had a kitchenette against one wall, a couch against the other, and a faux wood coffee table in front of it. Each of the three rooms was perfectly square in shape, and had white walls the color of a tee shirt that had been washed too many times. The landlord cleaned the beige carpeting prior to me moving in, but that was it. I was allowed to hang things on the walls, but forbidden to paint. And the metallic vertical blinds would have made any hospice proud. The string that was once used for opening and closing the blinds was so frayed, that some student before me had th
readed a shoelace through instead. But despite the lack of personality, it was mine, alone, and I was thrilled to display my new coordinating toothbrush holder, soap dish and water glass trio.

  The first night back at school, two days before classes began, Jenna threw a party at her apartment for some of our best friends. Amy Bornheimer, Alexa Giannoules, Andrea Ingrilli and three of our closest guy friends, Kevin Hansen, his roommate Rocco D’Ancona, and their fraternity bother, Tim Miller. The eight of us had become family over the years, and I couldn’t imagine not having them in my post-college life. I couldn’t imagine much of anything in my post-college life for that matter. But our close-knit group of friends had been through so much together; road trips, tailgating, spring break in Cancun, sorority dances, all- nighters during finals, family crises, and parents’ weekends with more family crises. Especially when my mother would visit. One time all my close friends and their parents reserved the back room at the nicest restaurant near campus. There was a huge group of us, probably thirty people including some random siblings, parents and friends, and the first thing my mother does is ask for separate checks.

  “Everyone just planned on splitting up the bill when we’re done,” I nudged my father and whispered in his ear.

  He turned to my mother. “That’s not necessary,” he said to her. “We’ll just divide it up at the end.”

  The waiter looked at my mother for her blessing. He didn’t get it.

  “I’d rather have our own check, I’m not very hungry, and you’re not drinking, so I’d prefer not to split up a large bill.”

  At this point, conversations around the table came to a standstill and all eyes were on my parents and the waiter as they attempted to work things out. My body temperature reached boiling, and Jenna squeezed my knee to help me relax.