by Anyta Sunday
I gulped. Me too.And it wasn’t only Trey with insecu f. really didn’t want her asking me to choose between them. ***
Six o’clock sharp, I knocked on June’s door. With a yank it opened, and a whoosh of air greeted me. Roommate Sara braced herself against the frame chewing loudly on a piece of gum. “You June’s bro?”
I didn’t like the way her gaze wandered—inched?—over me. A touch more subtlety and I wouldn’t have minded. Quickly nodding, I peered into the room looking for any sign of rescue. “Ah, where’s June?”
“Here,” came my sister’s voice from behind me. Thank God.“Let me just dump this.” She pointed to her fat bag, seams almost bursting, and sidled into the room.
Sara leaned toward me. Would it be rude to step back? Trailing a finger over my arm she flashed her pearly teeth. “You’re hot.”
Ahhhh.I glanced at June, standing behind her, obviously ready to leave, but giggling instead. So nice it was to see her smiling, it made me less uncomfortable under Sara’s heated gaze, and more appreciative.
Thankfully though, June snuck between Sara and I, just as her chewing mouth moved closer.
“See you!” I said over my shoulder, relieved to be free. June shook her head and her lips quirked, as I shuddered. “She’s not that bad. A bit direct maybe, but nice enough.” “A bit direct?” “Okay, a lot, but she’s alright.” Her smile widened, and with it my belly flipped.Remember what tonight’s about.A queasy feeling rose and fell between my stomach and throat. I slowed my step, as if that would miraculously make it better.
I could only imagine I’d gone pale and sickly looking, which would explain why June’s smile now dwindled. She opened the main doors and we cut through the crisp fall air to a Chinese takeaway joint around the corner.
“Strange thing,” June zipped up her top, “Dad rang this weekend.” Her voice was cautious, and soft, as if nervous of my reaction.
I shivered. “Called me, too. I don’t understand it. He usually only rings on birthdays or Christmas.” I kicked a chunk of red and amber leaves in front of me. “At least then I’m prepared for it. But this was so out of the blue. He didn’t have to remind me we’d be meeting this weekend. Hardly could forget that.” I wished there were more leaves to kick, instead I settled on quickening my pace. “Don’t see why he didn’t just call Mom to double check.”
June linked her arm through mine, slowing me slightly. “I don’t know why he rang. But… well…” A thoughtful expression set on her face. What was she thinking?
“But, what?” I asked. “Well, I’ve thought about it a bit, and—what if he misses us, Shane?”
I laughed dryly. “You’re not serious.” “I am. I’m not saying he hasn’t been a prick”—I almost tripped hearing that word fly out of my sister’s mouth, it was totally unexpected, and yet to a tee accurate—“But this whole wanting to give us money thing. Maybe he realizes we’re not kids anymore. That soon we’ll have no obligation to see him or even talk to him. It could be it makes him sad.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe that.”
“You are very harsh on him sometimes.” I stopped mid-step, pulling away from her. Me? I was the harsh one? How could she say that?
June sighed. “It’s just, he’s not all bad. He has issues, sure —” “You didn’t get treated the way I did.” I heard the hurt in my voice, and tried (but failed) to mask it. “It was easier for you. You did everything right.”
She shuffled from foot to foot, and after a moment shrugged. “You’re right of course. I just—what if he’s sorry? If he wants to change? Would you forgive him and move on?”
Change? Would he want to? More to the point,couldhe? Even in the last conversation he’d had a way to make me feel bad. No. This wasn’t about him wanting a second chance with us. Absolutely not. And even if it were, forgive him? Hell, no.
“Just think about it,” June finished, and continued walking toward the bright neon sign ahead.
Once we’d ordered and got our food, we found a bench in front of the campus clock tower. Iron wrought lampposts shed a warm light over us as we unpacked our dinner. “Darn it,” June said, scowling at two sets of chopsticks. “They forgot to give us plastic forks.” Setting our fried noodles between us, I pushed back June’s earlier words and concentrated on the reason we were meeting. And what had hovered over me for days. Where should I start? How? What should I—how did I say I’d fallen for her ex-boyfriend? How could I limit her hurt, her anger? Did I even have a right to?Shiiiit.
The chopsticks slipped between my sweaty, nervous, fingers. I wasn’t the only one having trouble. One of June’s landed on the ground. I picked it up and handed her one of mine.
Noodles slid down my throat, but although they were warm and filled with MSGs, I couldn’t enjoy it. Eating was just a way to prolong—to procrastinate.Just tell her!
June carefully brought a noodle wound around her sticks toward her mouth, but it was fast uncurling and—splat—it landed on the bench. She picked it up and threw it into the bin on her other side.
“If you hold them just a little lower,” I said, showing her my grip on the chopsticks, “you’ll have more control.” She copied my hold and tried again. It wasn’t perfect but it was better. We ate in silence for a bit. I kept taking in large amounts of air, readying myself to say something, but each time my nerve deflated.
“We need to talk—” we said it at the same time. A bizarre moment. Like we had twin telepathy or something. Any other time we might—probably would have laughed, but this time it was as if we both knew the seriousness of what we’d say next.
“Go ahead,” June said, her hand shakily lifting food to her mouth. I couldn’t do this—couldn’t say it, hear the words, see her face. But I had to, and I would. I ground my jaw together and focused just past her right shoulder. “June, I—”Just tell her. She deserves the truth.“It’s about Trey.”
She leaned back against the bench, twisting her torso —squirming. Uncomfortable or nervous?Both was my bet. “I think I know,” she said quietly. “But I’m ready to hear it now, tell me.”
A glance at her sad face almost shattered me completely. How could I have done this? “Tell me, Shane.” After a short hesitation where I felt as if I’d been hollowed out, I spoke. Low. “I like him. A lot. We—ah—like each other.” Silence. Had she even heard me?
“How long?” Her voice wavered, but she quickly got it under control. “How long have you felt like this?” “Since rooming with him.” Defensiveness sucked onto me, I was worried she’d hate me. I couldn’t keep a level head. “I tried to get over it, I did. But it wouldn’t go away. My feelings just got stronger. I didn’t do anything, not a thing I swear, until well after you’d broken up. And I’m so sorry it hurts you June, I know this is fucked up, and—”
She halted me, raising a hand. I knew the gesture so well. Just stop a second,it said. Slowly, she picked up her chopsticks again, pinching food between them. I could almost see her thoughts tumbling around, knew from the way her lip shook she was hurting. “Have you two done anything?” The strained words, her uncertainty at asking at all—I wanted to melt, to disappear.
“Nothing, really.” Her noodles slipped again. She threw her sticks down. “Nothing, really? What does that mean?at does “We’ve kissed. That’s—”all.A sob erupted from her and before I could see it happen, she’d picked up the rest of our dinner and dumped it over my head. In shock I sat there a moment as she leapt from the bench.
Then, things clicking into place, I grabbed the packet and scooped the majority of noodles off my hair, chucking them into the bin. I caught up to her. She was sobbing so hard I instinctively pulled her into an embrace, smooshing noodles between us. “I’m so sorry, June, I—I’m just so sorry.”
She cried a bit longer against my shoulder and then wiped her runny nose on my sleeve. “I’m sorry too. I thought I’d handle it better than that. I just—I guess I wasn’t prepared for it. Even though I knew Trey liked you.”
&nbs
p; I picked the larger chunks of food off her, not knowing what else to say. Fear clawed into me, so strong I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t throw up. June meant everything to me. She’d always been there. Came to all my hockey games and cheered me on. Helped me study for chemistry and physics —my worst subjects by far. Never laughed at me when I made a fool of myself—yeah, she always showed her compassion. Was never swayed by other’s judgments. She accepted me for who I was. Was there after Ryan for the weeks when I’d felt down.
And then there was Trey. How his thick brown lashes and deep eyes looked into mine, caring, curious, protective. Just being around him was better than touching music. Surreal. Wonderful. What I’d have wished for everyday, if I’d have known such a thing—an amazing thing—existed. Around him my heart beat a million miles a minute.
Don’t ask me to stop this thing with Trey. Don’t ask me to do that.I didn’t want to have to make that decision— because it might, no, itwould—be the one thing I couldn’t do for her.
She began walking, and I remained at her side, every step I felt more numb, waiting for what she’d say next. “There were clues you know,” she said, fiddling with her zipper. “I don’t know why I didn’t pick up on them sooner. Ever since the day you came out at the pool he’d been different. Hadn’t—couldn’t really touch me. And when we broke up, he said he’d had thoughts about a guy. He kept apologizing for it, but that he couldn’t help it. When I asked him if you were the type of guy he would be interested in…” June shut her eyes, a sad smile cornering her lips. “That’s when I knew. Knew it was you he’d been had been apologizing for thinking about. It was the way he said“Yes”. His eyes glazed over, he smiled—beamed. There was something in his expression he’d never had with me before. It hurt so bad to see it.”
Her voice cracked, I wished to comfort her. Do—say something to make her better. How could I, though, when I was the cause of her pain? I didn’t want to rub it in, make it worse for her. I wanted to show her how much I loved her, but knew in this moment it’d only make it worse. She needed to hate me right now. Needed to be allowed—have reason to be upset. And that was fine.Just please don’t ask me to end it.
I widened the distance between us, hoping it helped—gave her room to be angry. I braced myself for what would come next. But she surprised me. “Shane, I’m sorry for covering you in noodles.”
Help! What? And why on Earth was she sorry for that? “I hate my reactions right now. Hate feeling like this.”
I stopped her from moving and faced her. “How doyou feel, June? Let it out.” Even though it was at my request, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. My stomach tightened.
“Like I want to hurt you back,” she said—cried?—slapping her hand against my chest. “Like I want to, I don’t know— yell at you, and take away something important from you so you know how it feels.” She looked up at me, tears training down her flushed cheeks. “But I hate feeling like th few hthing at. I hate that the desire to do that crossed my mind. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, hey, you don’t have to be sorry. You’re allowed to feel this way. It’s me that should be sorry.Me.” Which was the honest truth. And I did feel sorry things had gotten so complicated, that my feelings for Trey were now so deep inside me I wouldn’t be able to extract them without getting sick. Just the thought made me shake, made me cold, made me start to cry.
Bowing her head, she sighed. “It’s not anyone’s fault, really. Feelings are feelings—you can’t apologize for liking him.” A tiny bit of relief—hope lined my black fears silver. I suppressed a sob, and tried for humor, though it came out flat, tired. “Hypocrite. Then you can’t be sorry for yours either.”
Her head snapped up and she frowned. “Huh. Right.” She picked a noodle or piece of broccoli off my shoulder and flicked it onto the path. “There is something that I can apologize for. Something definitely my fault.” She wrapped her hands around herself.
Her fault? There she went again. I shook my head. “You’ve got to stop thinking that any of this is your fault. It’s not. Don’t blame yourself—”
“It wasn’t a coincidence you’re roomies,” she said over me. Slow, confused, I didn’t immediately click onto what she was suggest—what?
She continued before I could speak, even though I had no idea what to say. “I opened up both your applications and put in a request to dorm with each other. I—I’m sorry, but I really wanted you to room together.”
Finally, I found my voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She scuffed the side of her shoe over the path, studying it hard. “Well originally I knew you two didn’t get on so well, I knew you wouldn’t warm to the idea.” She was right. Back then there was absolutelyno way—“But I figured you’d get on alright once you lived together. I mean, I couldn’t understand why you didn’t like him. He was—is the sweetest guy.”
She paused. A chilly breeze blew my sticky hair into my eyes and I wiped it away. “I thought about owning up to it that morning we received the post, confirming things. But your face whitened so bad, I—I just couldn’t do it.”
I swallowed. How did I feel about her confession? Shocked, yes. And if I’d been in normal mood, maybe a touch of sneaky!—I wasn’t mad, far from it, just—just surprised she could have done something like that. And I didn’t understand—“Why?” I cleared my throat. “Why did you want us to room together so bad?”
Without hesitation she answered. “Because I didn’t want to miss us. I didn’t want us to drift apart in college. Didn’t want to lose what we had. At home it was easy to maintain, we were around each other all the time. I thought this way— thinking Trey and I would be together—I’d see you a lot. That there would be no room for excuses.” She let the rest of her breath go. “I never thought we’d break up. Now we see each other even less.”
I picked up her hand and squeezed it and then came in for a hug. A big, giant, all-consuming hug. We stayed that way for until both of us were so cold we began to shiver. While we held each other, June reminisced. Reminding me of all the fun times and laughs we had together. “And after graduation? Sitting by the riverbank, singing, laughing. How you snuck us some booze, but doled it out to me, afraid I’d get drunk? You make me laugh. I love that you care.”
I heard the silent plea that came with these stories: please don’t let things change between us. Let us have things the way they were. Always.
I squeezed her with all I had. I want that too, you doofus. I love you.And perhaps not so clear to her,but it could be that way anyway. Don’t ask me to choose between the two of you.When I let go, we said nothing for a moment. But the way June searched fown e t my face, I wonder if she hadn’t understood me completely.
She gripped my arm. “I want you to know that I’ll need time, but I’ll be alright. About you and him, I mean. I—I just love you both. Want the best for you both. If each other is what makes that happen, then…I would never ask you to decide between us.” She flashed me a shaky smile, and I could see the beginnings of tears rimming her eyes, but she held them back. “Be a good brother, walk me to my room?”
Elated. Sad. I hiccupped, and with it came a large uncontrolled sob. One pent up too long.Thank you.I tried to say the words, but they came out mangled. Their meaning, though, came through. I knew by the way she rubbed my back; by the way she cooed and said everything was going to be all right.We’ll be fine!
Wiping my eyes with the back of my hands and breathing deeply, I sunk into an eerie calm. In it, I walked June back to her dorm.
She drew out her key, and attempted to lighten the mood. “Now get out of here, before Sara decides you coming back here means you’re interested.”
I responded to her efforts, exaggerating a step back away from the door, making her grin.I want us to be fine too. Have you always grinning. You’re my beautiful sis.
She flicked her hand toward the exit. “Now scram.” I did. And then I went for a good long walk around campus, processing the evening. It was past midnight by the time I got b
ack to the room. The lights were out and Trey’s regular breaths told me he was asleep. Silently as I could—I didn’t want to wake him up—I found a towel, my bathroom bag, and a clean pair of boxers.
I didn’t know how long I stood under the streaming warm water (I did have a lot of noodles to deal with), but by the time I was out, dry and back in the room, I was even more overwhelmed, sad and happy, hollow and yet filled with butterflies. The contradiction didn’t make sense. But that was just how it was. And the way they conflicted, well, my head was spinning faster than a spin top. Beat, I pulled back the bed sheets and was about to slip under them when—
“All good?” asked a sleepy Trey. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s going to be fine.”
He lazily beckoned me with his hand flopped out of the bed. “Come in my bed.” Just hearing his voice hit a spark inside me. It felt warm and comforting, even if demanding. It made me feel wanted—needed. And curling into him, sleeping beside him—my body itched to cover the few feet that separated us. Like a magnet pulled me. Only my head shouted a loudNo!June was so upset that we’d just kissed —how would she react, knowing we would be so much closer? I paused, looking away from him to my empty bed.
But hadn’t she also accepted my feelings for Trey? Though she spoke of hurt, she’d also spoken of wanting us to be happy. And right now, I wanted to be next to Trey. It was a feeling that no matter how hard I’d tried to rationalize, I couldn’t. It just…was. And it makes me happy. Happier than happy. Happiest.
“Ass…here…now,” Trey mumbled again. I smiled, and as I walked towards him, felt an easing of my spirit. He shuffled back toward the wall to give me room, and once I was in he—eyes shut, and half asleep still—turned around, nestling his broad back and tight butt into me. He pawed for my arm, and once he found it, tied it with his around his waist. My forehead between his shoulder blades, the pressure soothed me. Lightly, I kissed his back, and felt his miniscule hairs rise.
Needing to touch him more, I ran my fingers over his back and side. I just wanted him to feel—nice. Hehmmmed a bit, but soon sleep robbed me of that sweetness. I shut my eyes wishing to float away too, but it didn’t happen for the longest time. And when it finally did, I woke up too soon.