I Want It That Way

by Ann Aguirre

  “No, but it leaves you in a better place to deal when you get back. And sometimes whatever was bothering you isn’t there anymore.”

  “So you’ll be riding around until Lauren leaves?”

  He gave a wry half smile. “Maybe. I think maybe she was right, though, about me not knowing her. I had no idea she was so unhappy here.”

  “She’s not easy,” I said. “We’ve been friends for a long time, and I don’t know her like she does me. I feel bad saying that. And I’ll miss her. I’ll miss her sense of humor. I’ll miss her big brain and her loyalty. I’ll miss knowing she’s around if I need to talk.”

  “You can talk to me,” Max said.

  “I’m not sure that’ll work. Sometimes if I’m freaking out about something, I climb in her bed and poke her awake. She always talks me down, even at four in the morning.”

  His look was surprisingly somber. “If you get in my bed, Conrad, I promise I won’t take it the wrong way.”

  Somehow I managed a shaky smile. “The way this semester is going, I might do that.”

  “There’s no shame in leaning. Seems to me, we’ve been taking turns.”

  “Okay,” I said. Our breakfast came, and to my surprise, the perpetual knot in my stomach unraveled enough for me to eat. “How do you feel about Courtney moving in?”

  “I’m fine with it. She’s in a shitty situation, and I’m glad we can help her out.”

  I agreed. See, there’s the bright side. Lauren leaving means we can save Courtney from her crazy roommate. At this stage, I couldn’t come up with a silver lining to losing Sam and Ty, but maybe one day. Hope was a tiny bubble, light as air and rising in my chest.

  “Top you two off?” the waitress asked.

  At Max’s nod, she refilled our cups and I lifted mine. He clinked his against it. “To Lauren,” he toasted with a bittersweet smile.

  “And to survival,” I said, because giving up was never, ever a choice I could make.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Courtney moved in the following weekend.

  Though we’d gone to a bunch of the same parties over the years, she was more Max’s friend than mine, and it was bizarre to have her carrying boxes into our room, putting stuff away where Lauren’s clothes used to be. What I knew about her boiled down to this: her last name was Kaufman, she was Jewish, she was studying business, and she hated her current roommate in the dorms—from what I’d heard, with good reason. She was a short brunette, just over five feet, with strong features and a flair for the dramatic. Oh, and she also liked to mess with high people and make out with Max.

  It’s only until the lease runs out in August. I could put up with anything for six months.

  To be sociable, I said, “Do you need help unpacking?”

  “No, thanks. I’m a little OCD about organization.” Her gaze swept my jumbled bookshelves. “Will it bother you if I alphabetize?”

  “No, I guess not.” I pulled books down at random and put them back exactly the same way. But if she had to impose order, it wouldn’t ruin my day.

  Lucky for her, I wasn’t a slob. I kept my dirty clothes in the hamper and I washed them on a regular basis; my half of the closet was decent.

  With a faint sigh, I left her to settle in and joined the guys in the living room. “This feels so weird.”

  Angus nodded. “I cried at the airport, after dropping Lauren off.”

  “Just give her a chance,” Max said, surprising me.

  An hour later, Courtney joined us. She was quiet when Lauren would’ve been cracking jokes and throwing popcorn at the TV, but I got the impression she was sussing us out, trying to figure out where she fit in the apartment hierarchy. Not that we had one.

  Eventually, she asked, “Are there any house rules?”

  “There’s a work schedule,” I said.

  So far, there hadn’t been much trouble. Nobody made any huge messes, we took turns doing various chores, and the worst problem we had was bickering over who ate the last yogurt. Then I explained how we were splitting the food bill and hoped she wouldn’t be one of those food labelers who would stare suspiciously to make sure we hadn’t touched her ramen.

  “Works for me. If you were wondering, I don’t keep kosher, so you don’t have to worry when you’re shopping.”

  “That’s a relief,” Angus joked. “Max would die without ham.”

  Max muttered back, “Would not. I’d just be very sad.”

  Courtney smiled at us tentatively. “You have no idea what a relief it is to be here. Everything I own reeks of weed.” That explains her pleasure in hustling high people. “Toward the end, the RA was obsessed with busting Madison, and she was constantly finding reasons to knock on our door.”

  I teased, “Will you bend spoons with your mind for us?”

  “Oh, God. I can’t believe you remember that.”

  We stayed up late talking, all four of us. Things didn’t seem quite so dire in the morning. Courtney was here, nothing exploded, and she paid her rent on time. I didn’t poke her awake in the middle of the night, of course. And I didn’t go to Max’s room, either.

  The first week of February trundled by in a wave of work, school and applying strategies I’d learned in the first practicum. Now I led a lesson every week, and Ms. Roberts was less proactive than Ms. Parker. It wasn’t that she was a bad teacher, but...she was tired. To her, my presence offered a break, and she was more interested in resting than teaching me. I tried not to let it bother me.

  It had been a while since I went to the exercise room, so I changed into sweats after work and headed over. When I walked in, Ty was on the treadmill, running as if zombies were chasing him. His face was ruddy with exertion, his gray T-shirt damp with sweat. He glanced up, stumbling when he realized it was me. I nodded in greeting and climbed on the elliptical. The silence was awkward, but what could I say?

  I miss you, I thought. I hate this.

  He finished his workout in silence and switched off the machine, turning away to blot his face with the towel. “I have to go. Night class.”

  “See you.” I held my breath until he left and then crumpled over the console, closing my eyes against an intense wave of longing.

  On Valentine’s Day, I stayed home with Max and Courtney while Angus took Del out for a romantic evening. Unsurprisingly, we watched I Hate Valentine’s Day. Courtney and I ate half a pound of chocolate while Max sighed at us. He hadn’t talked about Lauren in a while.

  She emailed me often, chirpy notes about people back home, my parents and hanging out with my brother, Rob, working on his new house. There was stuff about a pregnant classmate, her mom’s new boyfriend, how she planned to transfer her credits and take computer classes online. I didn’t share her news with Max; it wouldn’t help him to hear how happy she was.

  “I know why I’m depressed,” Courtney said, glancing over at me. “What about you?”

  I didn’t know her well enough to tell the whole story, so I just said, “Recent breakup.”

  “Me, too. Well, sort of. The fallout is fresh, anyway.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “Are you easily agitated?” That was such a strange question that I arched a brow.

  Max snickered. “She’s trying to figure out if you’ll be weird after you hear her deal.”

  “I’m already weird,” I said.

  “Point. She’s cool, Courtney, you can trust her.”

  Now I was curious. I paused the movie and shifted on the couch, giving her my full attention. She repaid that focus by putting down her bucket of Hershey’s Kisses. “It’s not that I mind people knowing, but sometimes girls are strange about this, especially if we share a room. I’m bi, but I’m not remotely into you.”

  I laughed, pretending to protest, “But...my dreams.”

  “Anyway, I was with this chick, Amy, for a while. Before me, she’d never been with a girl. I’m not sure if it was a phase or she was college-curious. Whatever. It lasted a couple of months, but she was
so high-maintenance—and I say that as a Jewish woman.” When she flashed me a grin, I knew it was okay to chuckle. “So I broke up with her, and she told everyone, all over campus, that I got her drunk and seduced her. Which is such bullshit. She’s the one who said she’d always been interested. Now people act like I’m a predatory lesbian, scheming to snatch away people’s straight cards with my irresistible girl sex.”

  “Is that why you were kissing Max at the party?”

  She shook her head. “I like kissing Max. He’s good at it. You should try it.”

  He shot us a horrified look. “Can you not pimp me out, Kaufman? Just for the sake of my fragile self-esteem.”

  “I did kiss Max,” I said. “Freshman year, first time I met him. Then he said—”

  “Oh, God, not again.” He dropped his face in his hands.

  Courtney ordered, “Shut up, you. I want to hear this.”

  I cracked up. As bad lines went, it was my favorite. “‘Do you know karate? ’Cause, girl, your body is kickin’.’”

  “I was in my gangster phase,” he mumbled.

  Courtney almost fell on the floor laughing. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. Do you mind if I steal that? I’m pretty sure I have the street cred to pull it off.” She threw up some random gestures that were meant to pass as gang signs, but I suspected they were ASL. “Don’t leave me hanging. Did that work for him?”

  “I laughed. But he did, too. Then we got drunk and made out.”

  “As you do,” she said wisely.

  “Why must you dredge up our sordid past?” Max wondered aloud.

  “Because it’s hilarious. So then, I heard a bunch of guys talking about how many girls Max had banged, and betting I’d be next. I made a point never to let him feel me up again.”

  He pulled a face that was pure dejection. “And I’ve been so lonely.”

  “I can understand your scruples,” Courtney said to me. “I’m glad I didn’t know you when you were a freshman, dude.”

  “That’s a popular opinion,” he muttered.

  Angus came home an hour after the movie ended. We’d hooked up a laptop, like Ty had downstairs, and were watching Netflix instead of cable. I was ready to suggest canceling the service to save money, but Angus watched certain shows when they came on, and he’d probably be crushed if I pointed out he could watch them anytime online. In some respects, he was a traditionalist.

  “So how was the date?” Max asked.

  Angus sank onto the sofa between Courtney and me. “He’s fantastic, but I’m not sleeping with him yet.”

  “Don’t tell me somebody got you a copy of The Rules for Christmas.” That was Courtney. She glanced around. “It wasn’t me.”

  “No, I just want to take it slow, after Josh. That was... It was years. I was starting to think maybe he was the one. I don’t want to get hurt again.”

  “You’ll always get hurt.” The words popped out before I could stop them but I didn’t mean them to sound so bitter. “You just have to make sure the person’s worth the pain.”

  “Deep,” Courtney said.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, motherfuckers.” Max stood and arched his back, and I grabbed his cynical ass in a tight hug.

  Angus and Courtney got in on the action, and for a few seconds, I felt a little lighter, like the hollow in my chest might one day fill up with other things. I went to bed in a better mood.

  The rest of February sped by, occupied with work, classes, homework, practicum and the occasional social event with my roomies. They made a point of dragging me out of the house whether I wanted to go or not. Sometimes they went drinking, though I never got wasted over Ty like Angus had Josh. I just kept pushing forward.

  In March, I realized it had been two months since we broke up, though I couldn’t claim that word. He was never my boyfriend. But he was the guy I loved. And still did, in all honesty. The feeling hadn’t faded. Sometimes, sometimes, I had weak moments.

  Like tonight.

  I was sitting on the floor of my closet, hiding, because I was afraid of what the sound of his voice might do to me. There were four saved messages in my voice mail. I hadn’t played them since the day I walked out of his apartment, but tonight, need rose up until it might strangle me. If I didn’t listen to these, then I might call him. That would be a worse way to torture myself.

  So I plugged in my earbuds, put them in and played the first one.

  Hey, Nadia. I just want you to know I’m thinking about you. Call me.

  That one, I played four or five times. I thought about erasing it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, not yet. Maybe I’d store these on a USB drive and keep them in a box, along with the notebook that contained my memories of him. Maybe, if I gave all of those feelings a new home, my chest would stop aching. A sound principle, if you believed in transference.

  Message two: It’s me. Sam said you showed him how to tie his shoes today. He was so excited, you have no idea. And it means so much to me that you’re good to him.

  Ridiculously, I touched a fingertip to my phone, as if Ty lived in there because some evil wizard had cast a spell and locked him away from me like a genie in a lamp. But nothing happened apart from the solitary tear trickling down my cheek. I didn’t like feeling this way, but I had no idea how to stop.

  Message three: I miss you. God, this has been a shit day. Call me back?

  I played it twice before moving on to the last, the most recent one. He’d left it the day after we got back from the ski trip. Message four: Hey, sweetness. I had an amazing time. There’s just something about you.... Anyway, thanks for being with me. Talk to you soon.

  The closet door banged open.

  For a supremely awkward moment, I stared up at Courtney and she gazed down at me. The silence was horrendous. “So...I’m not exactly inexperienced at coaxing people out of closets, but I didn’t expect to need that skill set with you.”

  I burst out laughing. In that moment I felt sure we’d end up close, not social friendly or I don’t hate you when I’m drunk, but full-on friends. “I was afraid you’d accuse me of doing weird shit to your clothes.”

  “I can see you were having a moment with your phone. Listening to ex messages?”

  “How did you know?”

  “It’s a classic wallowing strategy. You might also put on a shirt he wore or do bizarre things with his pictures. Been there, done that.”

  “How long did it take to...stop?”

  “With some people, it doesn’t. They never leave you. The guy I dated in high school...to this day, I still talk to him in my head. We have these long, involved conversations, and I imagine him advising me on my love life.”

  “That’s weird, Courtney. Why don’t you just call him?”

  Her breath hitched. “Because he died when we were seventeen.”

  “Jesus. Now I want Angus to take us out and get us drunk.”

  “I heard that!” Suddenly, he was standing outside our room like an alcoholic fairy godfather, dangling his car keys.

  It ran through my head that I shouldn’t go out tonight. Responsibilities like bills, work, classes, practicum careened through my head until I shook it, denying all the reasons I wasn’t allowed to have fun. One night wouldn’t ruin my life. And I needed a break from trying to prove to my parents that I was worth the way they’d scrimped and saved to get me here.

  “I’m in,” I said. “Courtney?”

  “Fuck it, why not?”

  Laughing, I put away my phone and threw on a sparkly, backless halter and my sexiest pair of jeans. Angus nodded his approval when I came out ten minutes later. Courtney wasn’t far behind. She was wearing more makeup than usual, giving her a sultry look.

  “All right, ladies. Let’s do this thing.”

  Angus took us to Heat, the closest bar to campus. Since it was within walking distance, it was pretty much always packed with freshmen and sophomores keeping the place loud every night. I appreciated his flawless sense of setting because this was
definitely the right venue for us to make asses of ourselves. Considering the people around us, we’d probably be the least obnoxious idiots in the place, even if we got mad drunk.

  Courtney and I started strong with tequila shooters. I knocked back four, serious about a liquid cure for what ailed me. She shrugged and kept up, then we went out on the floor to dance with Angus. He already had a crowd around him but he made room, nudging people away so we could form a trifecta of booty-shaking. Courtney was a terrible dancer, worse than Max, but it didn’t seem to trouble her. Me, either. Two more shots, and I wouldn’t care if I took my top off.

  Someone came up behind me and moved with me. I couldn’t see his face, but it didn’t matter. Dancing wasn’t the same as taking him home. Arms over my head, I swayed side to side, trying to pretend I felt sexy instead of so incredibly alone. The guy put his hands on my hips. I worked in a slow circle, spinning to face him. The strobing lights made his face look weird and demonic; his eyes flashed red. You’re so drunk. This was fun, right? Exactly the kind of excitement I was supposed to have in college and then reminisce about after I settled down.

  I moved away from Gropey and got closer to Angus. He took the cue to glare, driving the other guy off. Courtney was laughing at something, and as I twirled, I spotted a face in the crowd, and shock went through me like a lance. It was dark, smoky and loud. I was wrong; I had to be. But for a few seconds, I thought I’d spotted Ty, and it knocked the buzz right out of me. Tracking through the crowd, I stopped dancing and took a second look. No, this kid was much younger, shorter, too. Only the red hair was similar, and he had a mess of freckles. He noticed me looking and signaled, like we were connecting across a crowded room.

  Nope. Sorry. You’re not Mr. Hot Ginger.

  To cover my near meltdown, I danced, but I didn’t drink more. You’re fooling yourself if you think booze can wash this away. I remembered how Courtney had said, With some people it doesn’t. They never leave you. Maybe, ten years from now, I would still be having conversations with Ty in my head, remembering everything about him with this awful, aching clarity.

  Jesus.