Marisa had worked hard for this, and I’d support her in this like I did all things.
“Come on, let’s raid the food set up and drink some terrible coffee and stuff ourselves on crumbly cookies.”
“Sounds like a great plan.”
Two years.
14
Marisa
Every time I was a block away from Ron’s house, my stomach knotted, twisting like a wrung-out cloth filled with dirty mop water. The need to graduate was the only thing that kept me coming. If I was lucky, he’d cancel more of these. Something always came up.
The nip in the air was more pronounced, and before long I’d be able to see my breath hanging in the air. In a couple weeks, those poor trick-or-treaters wouldn’t be able to show off their costumes under all the layers.
I tugged my sleeves down from under my coat. Maybe we’d get some early excuse to bail on a dinner with Ron.
Not that I cared. I loved the days he cancelled. It shone the light on exactly where his priorities were. There were 28 Mondays between me and graduation. He’d cancel at least half, and I’d be scot-free. Hell, once he’d signed my tuition waiver for the spring in December, maybe I’d end up just as busy as he was and skip them entirely. Gratitude to a man I should hate, who’d caused me so much pain was a glass covered pill to swallow. The guilt came next at not being appreciative that I’d graduate college with almost no debt, which triggered all kinds of anger that he didn’t deserve any of my gratefulness or appreciation after walking out on me.
When I’d contacted him about transferring to Fulton U after realizing where he’d ended up and where LJ went were one in the same, part of me thought he’d never even respond and I’d have to figure something else out, but he’d said yes. The deal came with a catch. The not-so-weekly dinners. And he still held onto those puppet strings for a few more months. Then I was done. None of these dinners had shown me he’d made more than the most basic effort. Always on his terms and at his convenience.
I stopped on the corner two blocks away from the house, waiting for LJ. Doing these dinners without him had sucked. But after the first few he’d insisted on coming with me. When the choice presented itself to do something with or without LJ, there was a hands down, no contest, clear winner.
He was my rock, and the one person I could count on to have my back—even if he apparently had a hard time listening. But he had a lot on his mind too.
I hated how much I needed him. I hated feeling needy. I hated feeling vulnerable.
He could slice me in two with a word without even realizing it. Our senior trip kiss and the day at the door with my dad. Completely oblivious, he’d reached into my chest, grabbed my heart, and dumped it straight into my hands.
This was the best time to think about my future. The one without him. I couldn’t be the needy, annoying one in this relationship forever. I just needed a few more months.
I checked my phone.
No messages from LJ.
There were still fifteen minutes until dinner officially started, but I wasn’t showing up early. I tapped my phone against my palm and paced the sidewalk.
An email notification popped up from my advisor with the subject line. “Congratulations! - You’ve been selected.”
Had one of the art history professors opened another phishing email that threatened to take down the whole email server again? Last month, we’d been hit with a lottery winning notification.
Against all of IT’s advice, I opened it.
And yelped, nearly dropping my phone to the sidewalk.
I snatched my phone off the ground and read through the email with my hand over my mouth.
“Marisa! You okay?” LJ called out his passenger side window.
“Great. Totally great.” I kept my happy dance in check and hopped into his car, wanting to hang out the window and scream into the autumn air.
He rolled toward the house. “You looked like a clickbait YouTube thumbnail back there. What’s going on?”
I wanted to tell him. I wanted to jump up and down and scream with excitement, but I reined it in. It was a big step. Huge.
I’d need to run through all the final financial aid information to be sure I could make it work. Without the insurance money from the fire, the living situation would’ve been tricky in Italy over the summer. Two full years where I’d only have the fellowship money to depend on might blow up in my face, if I didn’t run the numbers. But I wanted it. I really did.
LJ put the car into park. “You’re not going to tell me?”
“We don’t have to tell each other everything.” I teased.
“Fine, then I won’t tell you what I was thinking for my mom’s birthday present.” He reached for his door, but I grabbed onto him and jerked him back. We’d always shopped for a gift together, but this year he’d said he wanted to get her something on his own. It was another hole poked in our fifteen-year friendship. Hopefully it wasn’t another football jersey.
“What is it?”
He grinned, trying to pry my fingers off his arm. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
I shoved him away with a sound of disgust. “You’re really the freaking worst, you know that?”
“So you say.” He hopped out and jogged around the car to open my door.
Okay, maybe he wasn’t the worst. I’d miss little things like this after we graduated. Right then it hit me. The fellowship. Five games left in his season. The end of the Monday Dinner Downer.
The whole thing was coming to an end. It should have been 100% happiness, but attending and avoiding these dinners had been a stable point in my FU college life. It would be weird to see it go.
He walked ahead of me and stopped on the bottom step, looking back at me.
“Sorry, just thinking.” I racked my knuckles on the door.
“Thinking about what?
The door opened before he could ask any more questions, and for once I was happy at Ron showing up to give LJ a distraction, so he didn’t focus his prying on me. But those feelings evaporated the second we made it over the threshold. Ron stood in front of us, face flushed with a dopey, embarrassed look on his face.
Someone else had been invited to dinner. A woman in her late thirties sat in the seat I usually sat in beside Ron. I shook my head, making sure I wasn’t seeing double or hallucinating. There were two place settings on the side LJ usually sat on alone. I stalled, focusing on this woman with a brunette bob and nice mom eyes with crinkles on the edges smiling at me from the dining room.
LJ brushed against my side and stuck to me like my coat was made of crazy glue.
“Who is that?” The pit in my stomach I’d thought couldn’t get any deeper turned out to have a surprise trap door in it.
And that’s when the way he answered the door, so unlike any other time he’d answered, clicked into place. Flushed, slightly embarrassed, cagey. It was the kind of look someone might’ve had if they’d been caught making out.
“Marisa and LJ, I’d like you to meet Nora.”
He kept walking, but I stayed rooted in place.
Nora slid her chair back and stood, smoothly, effortlessly. She had on a tasteful fall outfit—a cream sweater, black pants, black shoes, and a simple silver necklace. A perfectly nice and normal outfit. She walked around the table gingerly, like she didn’t want to intrude.