I throw on jeans and an Ohio State t-shirt, and toss a light sweater in my bag for the cold classrooms. The class I share with Brady, Diverse Populations, is my first of the day. Sometimes I wonder why an introvert such as myself chose Social Work as her major. It's not less than a little bit ironic.
Brady raises his eyebrows when I walk into class. "Ohio State, huh? Buckeyes fan?"
I shimmy my hips a little and wink. "And so what if I am?"
"I don't have a problem with it, I'm just curious as to why you are an OSU fan, I guess. I know FIU isn't really a major football team, yet, but why not UF or the U, or some other big Florida team?"
I shrug and pretend to dig through my bag for a pen so that I don't have to elaborate. Perhaps wearing this shirt wasn't the smartest thing I could have done.
Dr. Reyes arrives just then and Brady forgets all about the shirt while we listen to our instructions for today's class. It would appear that there is no lecture today, which is nice, but the in-class assignment is one that I think may cause me trouble.
"As students of Social Work, and especially where it pertains to diversity, your people skills have to be at the top of their game. You will need to be able to talk to anyone, no matter their background, and be able to connect with them on any level which will put them at ease. It is your job to obtain as much information as possible, all the while getting your subject to trust you. So, while this may seem a bit overdone, we will pair up today and interview one another. I'm providing each of you with a list of questions that should help get you started, but it will be up to you to use your quick thinking and dig just a little bit deeper. You have the entire 75 minutes to complete this assignment. Go ahead, pair up. Please try and choose someone you did not meet before this semester."
With that, the professor steps away from the lectern and sits behind the media desk. Brady and I immediately turn towards one another.
"Well, we did only just meet on the first day of classes, so we're good. Right, partner?"
I sigh in exaggerated frustration. "I suppose you'll do."
The stack of papers containing the questions reaches us a minute later and we each take one before passing the rest to the next row.
Brady turns his chair so that he faces me. "These are pretty straightforward, fairly boring questions. Do you want to start? Or maybe we can take turns. I ask you a question, then I answer the same one?"
I hate answering questions, but I nod anyway. "Yes, that will work. We can take turns, but I'll ask first. So, question one. What is your full name?"
"Brady Shae Quinlan. Yours?"
"Wow, so very Irish. I'm Paige Kerimov."
He frowns. "What about your middle name?"
"What about it? I don't have one."
"Everyone has a middle name."
"Apparently not everyone, because I do not. Next question. What is your date of birth?"
"October 27th, 1994."
"I'm May 6th, '95."
I pause before I ask him the third question. A minute ago I was avoiding telling him I'm from Ohio, but the very next question would bring that right back up. Should I tell him the truth? I don't want anyone to have enough information about me to be able to dig up skeletons best left buried, but if I start lying there is a very good chance of me slipping up. This, right here, is the very reason I don't let people get close. I don't like to lie.
"Paige? You still here?"
"Yes, sorry. Okay, where were you born?"
"Good old, Boston, Mass."
His accent comes on just a little too thick just then and I smirk. "That's wicked awesome, Brady."
He laughs. "I don't think I have said wicked once since I moved here. What about you? Wait, let me guess. Columbus, Ohio?"
So, the truth then. "Close. I'm from Cleveland. Where were your parents born?"
"Both of them were born and raised in Boston. It is my grandfather that came here from Northern Ireland."
"My parents came here from the Ukraine. We're Russian."
"I gathered, the last name and all."
I choose to the ignore the sarcasm in his voice. We go through another ten minutes of mundane questions before things start getting a bit more personal. It's not asking for deep, dark, secrets, but it becomes less about your first pet's name and more about who you are as a person. And then, at the very end, does my discomfort really take over.
The last question is an instruction to both partners to take things further and ask the questions that will really tell you who your partner is.
I try not to ask anything too personal of Brady when we start that section, in the hopes that if I go easy on him then he will do the same. "Was FIU your first choice? Where else did you apply?"
Brady doesn't take any time to answer. "Yes, actually, it was my first choice. I wanted to be in South Florida near the beach and in the warm weather. The Social Work program here is very highly rated, as I'm sure you know. I also applied at some California schools, and Boston University."
I look up. "BU? Why? You said you wanted to be in the warm weather."
"I know, but I didn't want my father to think I was trying to get away from him. I wasn't. I just needed a change of scenery. I didn't get in to BU, but I wouldn't have gone there even if I had."
I can't think of anything else to say.
"So, Paige, I think you have exceeded your one question per turn, yes? I'll be taking full advantage of that right now."
He smirks.
"Of course you will, Brady."
"Tell me about your sister."
My heart stops beating for a moment, I could almost swear it. "What, uh, what are you talking about?"
"The girl in the picture yesterday. She has to be related to you. Older sister, I'm sure. Tell me about her."
I look down at my paper, trying to keep my panic at bay. "There's not much to tell. She's dead."
My words don't have the intended effect. Most people would grow uncomfortable in this situation, or offer empty condolences. When I glance back up, Brady is watching me with expectation, waiting for more. When I don't continue, he prods me, albeit gently.
"People die, Paige. Believe me, I know. But we should celebrate who these people were to us. Tell me who she was to you."
"Fine. People always talk about the deceased as if they were saints. My sister was not. Nicole was smart, and daring. She was confident. I envied that confidence, but I was a shy little kid. Nicole did her best to break me out of my shell, even if it meant she had to get me in trouble to do so. She wasn't kind, and she wasn't generous. But she took care of me; she let me tag along with her like the annoying little sister that I was. I loved her. And then she killed herself."
I stand up, grab my things, and take off before Brady has a chance to process.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A growing sense of dread takes over my stomach as I make my way towards Elyse's apartment on Tuesday evening. Three times I nearly convinced myself that it wouldn't be that bad if I made up some excuse not to go. I could say that I was sick, or that I fell down the stairs and broke my big toe, or something else equally lame. Of course, I quickly realized that when you live in the same building with the only two people in the world that are guaranteed to come over and check on you, those lies will catch up to you. So, here I am about to knock on the door with a nice bottle of wine, courtesy of Nicole's fake Ohio driver's license. The fact that it is an Ohio I.D. is probably the only reason I get away with it; most Floridians only know the things to look for in a fraudulent Florida license.
I'm fifteen minutes early on purpose. Showing up at the same time as Brady would give Elyse the wrong impression and I don't need to encourage her unfortunate matchmaking desires.
"Hi, Paige! Oh, thank you! This is a really great Cabernet."
Elyse answers the door and I already want to kick myself when I see her in a dressy green wrap dress and heels. Her makeup looks professional; trendy cat eyeliner and deep red lips done properly. I am wearing jeans that are worn
and frayed at the bottom, and a t-shirt that says "Support Animal Rights: Sleep with a Vegetarian". The only makeup I have on is some vanilla-flavored lip balm.
And then it gets worse.
I may be a few minutes early, but Brady managed to beat me here anyway. His social etiquette apparently far better than mine, he has on nice jeans and an untucked button down shirt in the same color of blue as his eyes. I can't help but stare at him for a moment, until we make eye contact and I force myself to look away before he sees too much of me.
"Hi."
He breaks the silence first, like I knew he would. He speaks softly, probably afraid I'll run away if he raises his voice any louder than a whisper.
"I'm sorry."
It just comes out before I can stop myself. I look down at the floor. I was a bitch yesterday and the guilt I feel is suffocating. I look back and see Elyse is in the kitchen and out of earshot. Good. This is a private moment between me and Brady; one I probably should have tried to do before we arrived.
He pulls me to him for a brief hug. "Don't be sorry, Paige. We're okay."
When he lets go of me, I look up at him again. Nothing more needs to be said and there is something so incredible about a friendship like that. Other than Nicole, I have never known what that was like before now.
The sound of a key turning in the lock breaks the spell and Elyse comes rushing out of the kitchen to greet Garrett. It's a little too June and Ward Cleaver, but kind of nice at the same time. I feel like a voyeur as I watch them kiss; Garrett even tips her backwards. Brady and I exchange a look in which I see mirth in his eyes. I suppress my own smile.
Eventually, Elyse and Garrett remember that they are not alone and they come into the living room to join us.
Elyse introduces Garrett to Brady and they shake hands.
"And you remember Paige, right?"
He smiles at me. "Of course. We met just the other day. And Elyse talks about you non-stop. If you weren't a woman, I might even be jealous!"
I laugh, though a bit uncomfortably. Garrett seems almost too nice and polite.
Elyse, who had slipped back into the kitchen during to introductions, comes back out with the bottle of wine I brought over and four glasses. "Dinner is ready, everyone. Let's all sit at the table."
The dining room table seats six; two of the places at either end of the table. Garrett sits at one end, Elyse to his right, I'm on his left, and Brady is next to me. Garrett opens the bottle of wine and pours some for each of us. When he reaches me, he pauses.
"I'm not sure I should be serving you alcohol, Paige. You're only nineteen, right?"
I don't say anything. I couldn't care less about the wine. I just don't like being the center of attention, which I am at the moment.
After a few seconds that seem to stretch on forever, Garrett laughs and pours some wine into my glass. "I'm kidding. I'm not policing anyone's choices here. Besides, you brought this. It would be pretty rude to deny you, right?"
I smile. I know he's just trying to be a charming host. Still, Brady catches my eye and kind of rolls his eyes in solidarity. It instantly makes me feel more at ease. I reach over and squeeze his hand under the table, thanking him. When I pull my hand back, I let the tips of my fingers linger in his palm for a moment.
Elyse starts serving the meal. She has made enough food for the SFU football team. There are more serving dishes than there is room on the table, with some of it having to stay on the breakfast bar.
"How did you two meet?" Garrett asks as he slices his chicken into neat squares.
"Paige crashed into me, quite literally. On the first day of the semester."
We all laugh.
"I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. And then Brady practically forced me to partner up for our semester project."
Garrett looks amused. "And what are your majors? Are you both in the same program?"
I let Brady answer Garrett's questions. "We are in the same program. Social Work. Although I'm a Junior and Paige is a Sophomore, so this one course is the only one we have together right now."
The men continue to make small talk and Elyse interjects every once in a while. She seems content to simply gaze adoringly at Garrett for the most part. I only answer questions when asked directly, which is seldom. I don't feel bad about being so quiet, though, because Brady and Garrett have moved on to football talk and they are very animated about it. Finally, everyone is finished eating and I get up to help Elyse clear the dishes.
"Oh, no, Paige. Please sit. You're my guest."
"It's no big deal, Elyse. I want to help."
Garrett puts a hand on her arm. "Love, while I would never suggest that dishes are a woman's job, if you and Paige want to take care of it, Brady and I can set up for some more drinks on the balcony until you join us."
It's his insincerity, I notice right then. Everything he does is over the top; almost to the point of being disingenuous. I shrug it off because I have a habit of being naturally suspicious of anyone's motives. Plus, he seems to love Elyse as much as she loves him, even if he does expect her to wait on him hand and foot. Brady tosses me a look over his shoulder as the guys retreat to the balcony.
I stack a few plates on my arms, waitress-style, and follow Elyse into the kitchen.
"I'm so glad you two could make it tonight, Paige. It's tough being here alone so often. Garrett travels for work at least a two times every month, sometimes more."
I take the dishes she has already rinsed and load them into the dishwasher. "I am sure that is incredibly lonely. Miami isn't exactly a mecca for friendly faces, either."
"That's very true. I grew up in a small town and I knew everyone. It wasn't until college that I got to see what it was like having some anonymity. As much as I enjoy having my privacy, the small town girl in me really misses having a large extended family nearby."
I cannot relate, for obvious reasons, but I fake it to the best of my abilities. "I get it. It's nice to have a built-in support system if you are used to that. I suppose I just love my independence. That's why I chose such a large school."
Elyse nods. "One of the first things I noticed about you was that you tend to be a bit... well... separate. You like to keep your distance from everything around you. I guess I'm just a bit too pushy, and I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable when I practically forced my friendship upon you."
"Actually, I may have been resistant initially, but I'm glad you are here. I've been warming up to the idea of having someone to talk to other than myself lately."
I put the last of the dishes into the washer as Elyse dries the last pot. "Thanks for the help with this, Paige. Let's go join the guys outside."
She grabs my hand and we walk out to the sliding glass door off of the living room. One of my favorite features of this building is the size of the balconies. There is enough room on the main balcony for each unit to house a table and chairs and various other items. The second balcony off of the master bedroom is smaller, but still quite spacious. Because Elyse lives in an end unit, her apartment has a view of Oleta river and the ocean. At night, with all of the city lights, it is absolutely breathtaking. I settle into the seat next to Brady as Elyse sits on the lip on the chair Garrett is in. A bottle of scotch and two tumblers sit half full on the table.
Garrett reaches for his glass. "Would you like a drink, Paige?"
"No, thank you. I'm pretty set from the wine we had."
"Brady and I were just talking about his life in Boston. He says you are from Ohio. I have some family there, about an hour or so away from Cleveland, in Mansfield."
I give Brady the side-eye. He is impassive. "Oh, yes. I've been there. It's a nice little town."
Garrett laughs. "No, it's not. It is boring as can be, but it's nice of you to pretend otherwise. Is your family still in Cleveland, or did you move here with them?"
I shift in my seat. "They are still in Ohio."
"You must miss them very much, then. It isn't easy being away from home."
Garrett glances meaningfully at Elyse when he says this, but his gaze holds more annoyance than compassion.
"I've adjusted pretty well. Listen, I hate to take off so early, but I have a morning class. Thank you so much for dinner."
Elyse looks disappointed, and Garrett is a bit put off. "That's a shame, but we certainly remember what it was like to hit those eight AM courses."
Garrett laughs. "Maybe you do, Love, but I learned my lesson after my first semester not to schedule a course before noon."
Brady gets up. "Well, I would agree with you, but not all the courses are offered at various times here. Paige's early class is the one we share, so I think I'll head out as well. It was a pleasure meeting you both. Thanks again for an amazing meal."
Brady places a hand at the small of my back to guide me off of the balcony and into the living room. "I'll walk you home."
I wait until we are in the hallway before I respond. "I live right there. I think I'll manage."
"Yeah, but you've been drinking. Wouldn't want you to get lost. And I should come in and check for sharp corners you could hit yourself on."
I poke a finger into this chest as we reach my door. "I had a glass of wine. You, my friend, are the one who has been drinking. How much scotch did you have, anyway? You sound a bit slurred."
"Nah, I'm just barely tipsy. I'm good. You're right, though. Tonight is definitely not the night for me to be alone with you in your apartment. Goodnight, Paige."
He leaves me standing there with my mouth gaping slightly. I don't have to be a genius to figure out what he meant. Sighing, I unlock my front door and step inside.
And then I stop moving; stop breathing.
The floor in my apartment, all of it, is covered in dead sterling roses.
The sterling rose was Nicole's favorite. It was the flower we used when we buried her.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I cannot pretend that I'm imagining this stuff any longer. I'm forced to admit this as I sweep up the dead flowers and toss them into a garbage bag. Three garbage bags full, actually, by the time I finish. I take everything to the trash room and chuck it through the chute as quickly as possible.
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