More memories piled up on top of those. My mom had been a consummate mother in the afternoons and early evenings, but it had been on us to get ourselves to school every morning. She always slept in, even though she’d often disappear into her room soon after my father left for the night in Japan. I also recalled how my grandpa’s face had always been flushed red when we visited him in the evening. Of how he died of the same cancer that was now threatening my mother.
Now that Victor had offered to lift his alcohol ban, I sensed a ticking genetic bomb that I hadn’t before in my unspoken family history. And I found myself realizing out loud, “No, I think cutting alcohol might have been one of the best things that ever happened to me. I’m good with sparkling water, how about you?”
He considered my words for a thoughtful moment, then signed, “I think that is wise. And I’m good with water too.”
After that, we chatted about way more boring things. Like the weather, my school projects, and who each of us thought would win the latest season of American SuperStar, the singing competition I’d convinced him to watch with me a few times.
Eventually, we got to the part of our new routine where he drove me to school and dropped me off before he went wherever he went every day.
He was like my father in that regard. He never talked about his job. And I never asked. I guess I had more in common with my mom than I thought. Or maybe I just understood things now that I didn’t understand back then. It had felt safer to wonder when I was a teenager. Now I knew the consequences that too much curiosity could bring.
The day dragged by at school. I still loved studying the history and evolution of animation. But we were so close to presenting our thesis productions that class had begun to seem like a waste of time. Who wanted to discuss the merits of Cheburashka, this obscure animated Russian film from the 70s, when we all still had so much more work to do on our own films? You know, the ones that would decide our grades and score us jobs when our expensive education was done.
Which reminded me that I had agreed to host Group B’s soft presentations this weekend. Good thing I was making Victor dinner tonight. I could let him know people would be coming over.
With that thought in mind, I rushed out of class like a goat freed from its pen as soon as Jacoby said we could go.
“Hey, Dawn! Dawn, hold up!” a voice called out behind me as I headed straight toward the pickup circle to meet Wayne.
The voice belonged to Asher. With a smidge of guilt, I sped up, trying to pretend I didn’t hear him.
I had been full-on avoiding Asher ever since Victor and I came to our agreement. I mean, our marriage wasn’t real in the emotional sense. And we hadn’t made each other any promises that extended beyond May 25th. But I still felt bad about talking to another guy behind Victor’s back, even if he was only my husband on paper.
Besides, what would I say to Asher, even if I wasn’t having these weird grey-area guilt issues around my marriage? What good way was there to explain that Victor and I had decided to act as if we were really a couple until we quite permanently weren’t?
The answer was zero. There was no good way to explain this crazy thing I was doing with Victor. So I’d been going out of my way for the last few weeks not to.
I’d hoped to go on not explaining myself for a few weeks more. Like, at least until May 25th. But no dice. Quick running steps sounded behind me. Then there was Asher, tapping me on the shoulder so that I couldn’t possibly pretend I didn’t hear or see him.
“Oh, hey, Asher,” I said, trying to keep all the dread out of my voice. “Can we talk later? I’m in a huge rush.”
Maybe he’d pick up on my cue and just pretend we were friends. Just friends. Who could talk later? Like, say after May 25th.
“So you’ve been avoiding me ever since your husband showed up and kissed you in front of the whole class,” he said, without any serious conversation lube whatsoever.
Wow, no dice again. I’m beginning to understand why they call that Vegas game craps.
“Um, yeah…yeah, I guess I have,” I admitted. “I just didn’t know what to say.”
“So, are you guys back together now?”
“Sort of…at least for a little while. It’s complicated.”
“So you were just leading me on?” Asher shook his head, irritation and disappointment flashing across his face. “When were you planning on telling me about this?”
I inwardly grimaced with the feeling that he probably wouldn’t love my true answer. Which was, Never. It hadn’t even occurred to me to have this conversation with you, dude. Only avoid it.
Instead, I went with, “I can see how this must look from your side of things. But I wasn’t trying to lead you on. Seriously.”
Asher considered my words, his expression becoming even more anxious and confused. “So you’re not getting a divorce?”
“Oh, no, I’m going to get a divorce. I’m definitely going to get a divorce…”
I paused when instead of the usual glee I felt when I thought about no longer being handcuffed to Victor, a wave of sadness passed over me. Wait, what was that? Did I really want to be with Victor any longer than I had to be?
“So, can I still ask you out in June?” Asher asked before I could answer that question.
The technical answer was yes. But for some reason, I couldn’t get the word out. My stomach rolled when I tried, and my throat clogged up like I was trying to spit out a rock. So I just kind of vaguely nodded.
My queasiness must not have translated to my expression because Asher grinned like he just won the lottery. “Okay, I’ll wait until you’re free and ask you out in June like we said. I mean, that’s cool, since we’ll both be in Pittsburgh after graduation now.”
What Victor and I had wasn’t real. I knew that more than anyone, no matter how well we’d done over the last few weeks at pretending. But guilt churned in my stomach at the thought of actively planning to get together with another guy while I was still married to Victor.
It didn’t matter if what Victor and I had was real. This felt wrong, just plain wrong. “Asher, you shouldn’t do that. Don’t wait for—”.
“Don’t worry. It’s cool, seriously.” Asher stepped closer and lowered his voice. “By the way, I missed you at Group A’s soft presentations on Sunday.”
Another wave of guilt cycled through me. I was hosting Group B’s presentations this upcoming Sunday, but I had skipped out on the Group A ones at the beginning of the week.
Mainly to hang out with Victor. But also because I hadn’t wanted to put myself in a situation where Asher could corner me and ask me what was up with Victor. You know, a situation like this one.
Shifting uncomfortably, I answered, “I was planning on watching the recorded Group A presentations this afternoon. I’ll send you and everyone else my notes this weekend, okay?”
“Or maybe you could come over to my place and watch it with me. We’ll order takeout, and you could give me feedback. You know how much I value your opinion, Dawn.”
He took another step forward and touched my wrist. In a way that could have been friendly but felt way too intimate.
Victor and I were pretending, just pretending. But my stomach rolled at Asher’s touch, and I snatched my arm away. “You know, I am so behind on this project that I’m a little scared I won’t be ready for the soft presentation if I don’t jam on it. I’ve gotta go.”