by A. J. Pine
I repack my bags with minimal casualties, but I already know I’m not going to make it out the door anytime soon.
“What the hell, Ashley? Are you stalking me?”
She fidgets with the zipper on her jacket for several seconds before answering. When she looks up, her hands travel to the end of a long, auburn ponytail hanging like a perfectly coiled ribbon over her shoulder.
“Not stalking. Not exactly. But you won’t answer my texts.”
I grab my bags and push past her to the door.
“I’ve really been meaning to text you back, Ash,” I say, spitting her words back at her.
She sputters for a response long enough for me to exit the restaurant, but she’s behind me in seconds.
“Jess! Please! Will you just wait?”
I shouldn’t stop. I should put her and Bryan and all of that behind me, but the pleading in her tone makes me remember the old Ashley, only for a second. So I put the bags safely against the wall of the building and turn to face her.
“I deserved that, okay? I should have called. I should have sought you out more when you came back to school last year, and I should have quelled the rumors about me and Bryan. We weren’t dating, at least not then. I was so freaked out about how much time passed while you were at home—recuperating. Once you came back, I didn’t know how to behave around you anymore.”
Her eyes well with tears, but I remain impassive. I will not crack for her, not after she took her friendship from me at the time I needed it most.
“He messed up, Jess, and he had no one to go to because you shut him out.”
“No!” She can defend herself all she wants, but she doesn’t get to defend him. “No!” I repeat. “He ended things with me, Ash! I didn’t push him away. One week. That’s all he gave me, after nearly two years together. One week. And you’re still picking up the pieces for him when no one was there to do the same for me.”
I’m panting, and Ashley looks stricken. I want her to know I don’t forgive her for choosing him over me, that I’ll never forgive him.
But something in her shifts, and the tears that were building subside.
“Jess, how much do you really remember about that week? You were in the hospital for most of it, and they started you on medication almost immediately.”
I grit my teeth at her insinuation of judgment.
“Are you trying to tell me antidepressants cause memory loss, Ashley?”
She fidgets again.
“No. No. That’s not what I meant. I know it was a traumatizing week for you, both medically and . . . otherwise.”
She lingers on this last word, and I swear, I am not going to make this easier for her.
“Say the word, Ashley. Depression. It’s not like you can catch it from saying it.”
The ER doc, the surgeon, and my personal doctor all agreed it was hormonal at first. But it didn’t go away.
“I can say the word, Jess. But cut me a little slack. I’m walking on eggshells here, trying to do what I should have done months ago. I want to tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry for how Bryan dealt with it, but most of all, I’m sorry for not being there for you. I know it’s no excuse, but you were gone all semester. You had your family, your therapist—people were working to get you well, but he had no one to confide in but me.”
My stomach twists at the thought of her being there for him. She makes him sound like the victim, and I can’t stand it.
“That’s all very convenient for you both,” I say, assuming a casual tone. “You’re right. My family, my therapist, and I were having such a blast. It’s no wonder Bryan felt left out.”
“Jess!”
She takes several steps toward me so she is most definitely invading my personal space.
“Dammit, Jess! You don’t remember. You wouldn’t see him. Bryan came to visit you every day in the hospital, and you wouldn’t see him. He wanted to be there for you, to grieve with you, and you wouldn’t let him. He knew, Jess. He knew even if he didn’t end things that he’d already lost you. You shut him out. You shut all of us out, and I know I should have tried harder. I own that. But you need to talk to him, Jess. You need to let him off the hook because after bumping into you the other week, it’s like he lost you all over again.”
I pick up the bags, my head swimming with what she’s saying, with my memories of that week, trying to piece it all together.
“I can’t do this, Ash.”
My voice cracks at the use of my nickname for her, the familiarity of it, and I swallow hard. I have no tears left for her.
“I have to go.”
I pick up the bags and turn toward my corner. Ashley doesn’t come after me, and I don’t look back. But before I’m out of sight, she begs one more time.
“Let him off the hook, Jess. Let Bryan go.”
***
Ashley’s words repeat in my head as I hurry dazedly to my apartment. Zoe opens the door before I can get my key in the lock, my nervous hands fumbling with every try.
“What took you so long? The game is starting!”
She takes the food from my hands and starts hurriedly setting up cartons on the bar.
I clear my throat hoping I can speak after all Ashley said.
“Sorry if the food’s a little cold. I bumped into an old friend at Yu’s, and I got held up for a few.”
Both Zoe and Spock fill plates and trash-talk each other before the game begins. They don’t seem to notice if the food isn’t hot or that a crab Rangoon was one of the casualties of my run-in with Ashley. I stand against the post at the end of the bar. Zoe nudges my shoulder with hers.
“You okay?”
So maybe she does notice, but this isn’t the right time to start spilling.
“Yeah. I’m okay. It was just a long day.”
“Then grab some food and sit, because your sexy vampire is about to play his first game of the season!”
The mention of Adam is enough to dull the effect of the last twenty minutes. It’s also enough to erase my hunger, even for Yu’s. I’m so happy to see him play. I know it’s been killing him to be on the bench, even though he’s only missed two games. But I’m also terrified to see him, to be reminded of how right it felt to kiss him and how awful it felt to let him leave.
I throw an egg roll and some orange chicken on a plate, planning to push the food around and at least look like I’m eating. In the center of the coffee table sits a glass pitcher filled with sparkling pink liquid.
Zoe catches my gaze and smiles. “We can’t watch a basketball game without our celebratory Shirley Temples!”
Zoe and Spock have the couch, so I take the chair.
“You know they need to win first, right? Before we celebrate.”
She shakes her head as she pours some of the liquid into a clear plastic cup.
“Wrong, dumbass. We’re celebrating Adam’s return to the game. Are you new?”
I make a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort and realize how lucky I am I answered Zoe’s ad for a roommate.
“So you guys know the point guard?”
Spock’s voice is deep and playful. He doesn’t sound like a Vulcan, and today he sports human ears.
“Yes. Adam Carson, number eighteen. We’re friends.”
It sounds wrong to call him that, but that’s really all he is, if I can even call him a friend anymore.
I’ve missed the national anthem, and the team is already poised for tip-off. There he is, ready to run the court. He’s got a brace on his knee, but he looks steady on his feet. The opposing team wins the ball, but it’s a short-lived victory. Adam makes the first steal of the night, and the three of us watch as he takes it down the court and calls the play. He throws it up for an alley-oop, and the center dunks it for the first bucket of the night.
Without realizing it, I’m up on my feet cheering. I’ve watched plenty of games but never cared who did what. I only wanted enough knowledge to get by in conversations wi
th random guys. But Adam led that play, and it was amazing.
“Did you see that?” I ask.
Zoe cheers too, and even Spock chimes in despite the fact it’s not his team. But they’re still sitting. How can they sit?
“Your boy’s got some skills,” Spock says. “This is his first time off the bench this season?”
I nod. “He was injured. Knee surgery.”
“If that’s any indication of how tonight’s game is going to go, my team is toast.”
This makes me smile more, and I sit back in my seat.
The rest of the night goes pretty much like the first play. Wisconsin holds their own, but they never get the lead. Adam sinks a couple of shots to add to the grand total of seventy-two to Wisconsin’s sixty-eight.
He was magic out there, and though I notice him favoring his knee when he walks off the court, he is nothing short of exultant. I’ve never seen him smile like that before, and it makes me ache to think of it. This is what makes him happy. I couldn’t give him anything like this.
But I’m happy for him and want him to know it, so I don’t hesitate to text.
You did it, Sexy Vampire. I watched the whole thing. Wow. You were amazing out there.
Maybe Sexy Vampire was too much, but I can’t take it back now. Watching him made me feel close to him, which brought back the comfortable familiarity that was there before we kissed.
I start clearing dishes from the coffee table, but Zoe grabs my arm.
“It’s not over, sweetie. Look.”
The team is still congregating near the bench. Adam sits as his knee is checked by the team’s trainer. This is routine for all injured players. The trainer gives them some extra attention in the early games of the return. But the camera moves closer to him, and someone attaches a microphone to the collar of his jersey.
They’re going to interview him.
I drop back down to my seat.
Local News Guy: We’re here with Adam Carson, who has just returned as point guard after time off following knee surgery. Adam, how do you feel about your first game back?
Adam: Wisconsin is a tough team to beat. They played a great game, but I’m not going to lie. It feels great to be back and even greater to start off with a win.
He’s all business and plays the role of the good sport, but I can see in his expression, in the dark glint of his eyes, he’s happier than he’s been in a long time, and I’m grateful I didn’t ruin that for him.
Local News Guy: We know how the team did, but how’d that knee do its first time back on the court? You barely gave it a rest tonight!
Adam: I think it held up pretty well. It’s sore, but I’ve been taking good care of it.
Local News Guy: I bet you’ve got some good help back at the university’s hospital.
Adam: The best.
The interview ends there.
“Did you see that?” Zoe asks.
“See what?”
“The way he said ‘The best.’ Jess, the boy looked away like he was too shy to answer that question, and when he looked back at the camera, I swear that fucking smile was for you.”
I regather the mess of dishes from the table.
“You’ve had too much 7UP and grenadine,” I say to her. “I’m cutting you off.”
Zoe can read people. I have no doubt. But Adam was putting on a show for the interview. There’s no way a two-word general comment about his medical care has anything to do with me. Even if it did, which it doesn’t, all it means is the possibility of us being friends is still on the table.
“Thank you both, for watching with me.”
We all crowd into the narrow hallway better known as our kitchen.
“You’re welcome,” Zoe says. “You got dinner. Spock and I will clean up. But remember to check the calendar tomorrow. You’ve got plans.”
I roll my eyes but happily exit the crowded space. “I’ll text him, Zoe.”
Her mention of my plans reminds me to grab my phone from the chair. There’s a text waiting.
Sexy Vampire: Thanks for watching. It was a great game, and I couldn’t have done it without your help. Tracy taught you well.
That’s it, the entire response to me gushing about his performance on the court tonight. I don’t know what I was expecting, but “Tracy taught you well” was nowhere near the top of my list. I head straight for my room without offering any sort of official good-night to Zoe and Spock. Instead I throw my phone on the floor and flop into bed. This is getting to be a pattern for me.
I think about Adam’s request. What I’m doing now in no way indicates me getting my shit together. I’m only confusing the situation further. At least he responded. It’s more than I deserve, and that should be enough.
14
Zoe eyes the obliterated words on today’s calendar entry. Where her directive for me was written there are now two thick, Sharpied black lines. She eyes me suspiciously, lips pursed, and I sip my coffee at the bar, watching her through veiled lids.
“I thought we had a deal.”
I expect her to give me shit, but instead I hear concern in her voice. Rather than say anything, I slide my phone to the edge of the bar, Adam’s text from last night on the screen.
“Oh,” she says.
“Oh,” I say.
She opens her mouth, I’m sure to try to defend the meaning behind Adam’s words, but I cut her off.
“He’s making sure I know where we stand, which is nothing more than a professional relationship, the way it should have always been. I know what you thought after the interview, Zoe, but please admit you were wrong, and let this whole thing go.” I let out a breath, my shoulders slumping as I do. “It’s not like I expected anything more after the way I treated him. But I guess . . . I don’t know. It’s stupid.”
“You hoped,” she says.
I nod, and she forces a smile, one I don’t reciprocate.
I’m exhausted, and it doesn’t help that my sleep schedule is jacked. Last night I lay in bed staring at the ceiling¸ hoping to escape my thoughts long enough to drift off, but other than a couple of fitful naps, I doubt I racked up more than two hours. I rub my temples, feeling a hangover headache coming on though the only thing I drank last night was Zoe’s Shirley Temple. This is a different kind of hangover.
I step around the bar into the kitchen and head for the medicine cabinet. Popping open the bottle, I shake two ibuprofen tablets into my hand.
“Why do you do that?” she asks, her head so close it’s like a parrot on my shoulder.
I step away from her and spin around, not expecting to meet such a concentrated gaze.
“Do what? Take pain-killers when I have a headache?”
Zoe grabs the bottle from my hand so I’m left holding the cap and the two little red pills.
“This, Jess. Why do you keep over-the-counter medication in an expired prescription bottle? I’ve kept my mouth shut since we met, but it’s not like you’re trying to hide it from me, so I’m asking, as your friend, what’s going on? Weekend’s over, and we had a deal.”
She’s right. I haven’t been hiding it. I’ve never cared whether or not she knew I’d been on antidepressants. But I never thought we’d end up friends, that she’d care enough to ask.
“It’s a reminder,” I say slowly. “The bottle.”
I pop the two pills in my mouth and grab my coffee to chase them back.
“A reminder of what? Haven’t you figured me out by now? I don’t judge. Whatever is going on, I only want to help.”
As soon as she asks the question, Spock comes out of her room with a backpack and his jacket on. I don’t want to ruin her morning before he leaves.
“A reminder of why I’m not going to talk to Adam today. Please don’t push me on this. I thought I could tell you. I want to tell you, but I can’t handle it right now. I’m so tired, of all of it. This is for the best, Zoe. Trust me, okay?”
She doesn’t say anything as Spock comes up from behind and wraps his arms arou
nd her in a bear hug. I wish Adam and I could be like them, comfortable in each other’s presence, letting friendship be enough.
I take her silence as acquiescence and lock thoughts of Adam up tight, put them away for safekeeping, when I won’t remember what it’s like wake up with him next to me or what his lips taste like when they’re pressed to mine.
“I’m gonna show Spock around campus before he leaves. Wanna come?”
I shake my head.
“Thanks, though. I think I’m going to start prepping for my peds internship. Plus, it’s much warmer in here.”
I hold up my steaming mug for evidence.
She looks at me and then at Spock, and I feel her hesitation.
“Zoe, I’m fine. Promise. I won’t even take a nap.”
I force a smile though it feels foreign. She leans over and kisses me on the cheek, and I blink back the first possibility of tears in over a year.
“I’ll be back soon, okay? We can watch reruns of sexy vampires all afternoon.”
I nod, afraid saying anything will unleash the wave of emotion I can barely swallow down.
“Nice meeting you, Jess. Hope to see you again soon.”
Spock nods, somehow understanding my silence. I wonder what she’s told him about me. More so, I wonder what she knows versus what she’s trying to piece together. It’s not like I enjoy my secrets. But I’m the only one who can shoulder the burden. Zoe’s pity wouldn’t make it any better.
I give them a good ten minutes after they leave to make sure I won’t bump into them, and I pack up my stuff to go. I don’t start working with the kids until tomorrow, but Tracy gave me the thumbs-up to come in anytime over the weekend if I wanted to get acquainted with some of the patients. Since I can’t focus on anything else right now, I decide to take her up on the offer.
Tracy is sitting at her desk in the PT lab when I get there.
“Are you ever not working?” I ask.
She looks up from her paperwork and smiles the warmest smile I’ve seen from her yet.
“Well, there’s class this afternoon. And I usually come in to get paperwork done when my husband is on call. He’s a pediatrician on staff, and this happens to be our on-call weekend. So, to answer your question, yes. Sometimes I don’t work, but this isn’t one of those times.”