A First Time for Everything Page 20

  Someone else pushes through the doors behind me. I turn to see Casey pulling his knit hat down over his ears, and my heart thunks like a prop plane taking off.

  He squints at me. “Hannah?”

  Only my eyes are visible between my hat and scarf, so I guess I’m not totally recognizable.

  “Hey, Casey.”

  “You walking back?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, unsure of the right response. “I might wait for the bus.”

  “That’ll take forever this time of night,” he says. He sounds resigned, or maybe he’s just tired. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

  Campus is eerie, the buildings dark and quiet, and neither of us breaks the silence the whole way. I’m trying to think how to begin, but I can’t do it when we’re both shivering and miserable.

  Our breath mists out in front of us as we climb the last hill, and I walk as fast as I can so he doesn’t have to slow down for me. Finally, we reach the warmth of our building.

  It’s now or never.

  I stop and put a mittened hand on his arm. “I’m sorry about everything.”

  He goes still, his expression closing up. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m telling you I’m sorry for the things I said at the club. I didn’t mean—”

  “I’m pretty sure you did.”

  The bitterness in his voice shakes me. I pull my hand back, but I try again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say, my voice breaking. “Things got to be too much for me, but that was my problem, not yours.”

  He shrugs. “I shouldn’t have made such a big thing of it. I know I’m not the kind of guy you’d get serious about.”

  “I don’t…it’s not about what kind of guy you are.”

  “Whatever.”

  I want to throw myself at him, talk to him all night long, find out what’s happened in his life in the weeks since we stopped talking.

  “Did Jen find out about us?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “That was my bad. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like I did. I was… I guess I was kind of drunk.”

  “To be honest, it was a relief to have the whole thing finally come out. I should have told her in the first place.”

  “She’s not mad at you?”

  “She’s plenty mad, but I think she’ll forgive me.”

  He nods, like he’s glad to hear it, and an awkward silence falls.

  “Are you going home for Christmas?” I ask, trying to prolong the moment with him.

  “Yeah. We always have a ton of people over. Should be pretty crazy.”

  I picture a house filled with lights and laughter and blond women fussing over him. “That sounds really nice.”

  “Any more interviews lined up?” he asks.

  “I had one at Harvard before Thanksgiving, but nothing else yet.”

  “You’re gonna do just fine.”

  The words of someone who won’t be around to know for sure. My throat tightens. “You will too, Casey.”

  “No doubt. Everything’s being handed to me.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  He heaves a sigh. “I know.”

  I can’t stand the way this feels, like it’s another ending, a postscript to whatever it was we had.

  “We’re talking like we won’t see each other again,” I say. My voice comes out too high and full of false cheer, but I can’t seem to stop. “I’ll run into you a million times between now and graduation.”

  He looks at me, saying nothing, and I can almost hear what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it, too.

  Not like before.

  “You go ahead up,” I tell him. “I have to check my mail.”

  “I hope you find something good in there.”

  Tears press at the back of my throat. “Thanks for walking me back.”

  “You really think I’d leave you?” he asks. He heads for the stairs without waiting for an answer.

  I stand there a long time, finally moving only when a group of guys pushes in through the door with a blast of cold air and laughter.

  I find envelopes from the University of Southern California and the University of San Francisco in my mailbox. I head upstairs, sit on the couch, and slit each one open carefully, like I’ll lose points if I tear them.

  Both are invitations to interview.

  A few weeks ago, I’d have been dancing around my room with joy and texting my family. Instead I sit there staring at the letters, wondering why I can’t get excited. I picture myself flying out there, walking through cities I’ve never visited before.

  Still nothing.

  Maybe my excitement will come back when I’m rested, or when I’ve had a little more time to adjust to the new status quo between me and Casey. I mean, there’s no way I’ll be an empty shell of a human being forever, right?

  The next morning, Audrey and I are in the common room waiting for the water to heat up so we can have our instant oatmeal.

  “I got interviews at USC and UCSF,” I tell her.

  “It took them long enough. When do you go?”

  The water whistles, and I pour it into our bowls. “I’m not sure. I still have to call. Hopefully I can visit both over break.” I shove my books to one side of the couch and sit.

  “Jeez, Hannah. Try to contain your enthusiasm.”

  I don’t say anything.

  Audrey sighs and looks at me with a what am I going to do with you expression. “I’d kick Casey’s ass, but I know it’s not his fault.”

  “No, it’s mine.”

  “It’s not about blame. I hate seeing you like this. You’ve always been so charged up, and it’s like you’re going through the motions now.”

  She looks really sad, like she’s mourning me or something. Seeing her so sad flips a switch in me, and before I know it tears are streaming down my face, and I’m trying not to bawl.

  “Oh God, Hannah. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  And then I’m sobbing and trying to keep myself from flying apart. I rock through it, and the sadness is awful and endless, out of my control. Audrey puts her arm around me and waits it out.

  Eventually, my crying subsides, as if it were a natural event that’s run its course. It leaves me cleaned out, the pain I was suppressing churned to the surface instead of shoved way down where I couldn’t touch it.

  I give a last shuddering sigh and wipe my nose with my sleeve. “Crap, I’m a mess.”

  Audrey’s eyes are glassy and red, like she’s about to cry, too. “You are, but it’s a lot less scary than the zombie Hannah I’ve been living with.”

  “That must have sucked. I’m really sorry.”

  “I’m just glad you’re back.”

  My smile falters, but it’s real. “Me too.”

  It’s easier to deal after my breakdown. I didn’t expect things to hurt this much, but there are plenty of things I care about, including my friends. I have only a few months left with them, so I need to make the most of it. I start by inviting Jen and Audrey to an a cappella concert on Saturday. Thankfully, Jen agrees to come. She’s a little cool at the start, but by the end of the night we’re all hollering and nerding out over the performances.

  I still have to contend with seeing Casey. I’ve stopped avoiding the stairs he uses, which means every trip to and from my room is fraught with expectation and anxiety. I want to see him more than anything, and I’m terrified to at the same time. Because now all we do is say hi and move on, and that’s almost worse than not seeing him at all.

  Thank God I haven’t seen him with another girl.

  A week before winter break, I text Jen and ask if she’s free to have coffee. I’ve been hanging with her one or two nights a week, but it’s always with Audrey. Seeing her on my own would test us, and it w
ould mean more. If she says yes, maybe I’m really forgiven. It takes her so long to reply I’m convinced she’s going to either ignore me or say no, but eventually she texts back suggesting the next day at eight a.m. at Neil’s. I can’t help wondering if the early time is a challenge, but if it is, I’m up for it.

  I’m so nervous when I get there, it’s like I was meeting a blind date. The place is small and crowded, but I manage to snag a table. Then I wait, my eyes locked on the steamed-up windows. Jen arrives a few minutes later. She hesitates in the doorway, like she might change her mind and head right back out the door, and then her eyes gleam with wry humor.

  She takes off her coat and drapes it on the chair. “I’m totally getting a doughnut.”

  Relief pours through me. “Good idea.”

  I insist on paying, and by the time we sit down with our coffee and doughnuts, it’s almost like old times. I haven’t forgotten how exposed I felt that night we argued, and I don’t suppose she has either, but it’s okay. Friends don’t take advantage of weaknesses, and they trust each other. I suppose I have to earn that trust, but I’ll do whatever it takes.

  “How are your plans for Paris coming?” I ask.

  “I need to find an apartment, but other than that, it’s pretty much set.” She takes a sip of coffee and bites into her doughnut. “What about you?”

  “I have two interviews in California over break.”

  “That’s great. San Francisco and L.A.?”

  “Yeah. I leave on the eighth and come back the twelfth.”

  “Sounds expensive.”

  “My dad’s paying the airfare, so I only have to worry about the hotels. Anyway, it’s a drop in the bucket compared to tuition.”

  “I’ll probably go into debt while I’m abroad, too.”

  “Really? I thought the job paid.”

  “It does, but not enough to live comfortably. I’ve applied for a grant to help me get by.”

  “At least you’ll be in Paris translating for hot diplomats.”

  She smiles, as dreamy as I’ve ever seen her. “Mm. Paris.”

  I use my finger to pick up the crumbs of my donut and consider getting another one. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

  “You can come visit. I’ll have an adorable little apartment somewhere on the Left Bank.”

  “That sounds amazing.”

  “The men there are way more forward than here. They do all the flirting, and all you have to do is decide whether you want to take them up on it.”

  I can’t help smiling at her description. “Sign me up.”

  “Speaking of men, my friend Sean was asking about you.”

  “You mean the tall guy on your hall? I’ve barely spoken to him.”

  “I think he was into you last year, too, but he didn’t come right out and ask about you until now. I suppose he figures he’d better get a move on, seeing as how we’re graduating.”

  “This isn’t a good time.”

  “I thought you wanted to date before you graduated?”

  “I did…I mean I do. We’ll see. Maybe next semester.”

  Her raised eyebrow tells me she doesn’t buy it. I’m not sure I do, either, but I want it to be true.

  We both sip our coffee.

  “Casey looks terrible these days,” Jen says. “Or as terrible as he gets, anyway.”

  I really, really hoped we’d get through this without mentioning him.

  My eye starts to twitch. “He’s probably just stressed like the rest of us.”

  “Maybe, but I think he really fell for you. I saw the way he looked at you.”

  An ache starts up in my chest, and it’s an effort to breathe. I remember the way he looked at me, too.

  “I’ll bet he looks at lots of girls that way,” I say, twisting my own knife.

  “He didn’t look at me that way, did he?”

  I don’t have any response to that. Frankly, I can’t believe she’s talking to me about this.

  “A couple weeks ago I couldn’t even think about you two together,” she continues, “but now I’m more embarrassed than anything.”

  “Jen…”

  “The thing is, if you’re going to ditch Casey, maybe you should give some other guys a chance. Otherwise, what’s the point of the whole thing?”

  “I was so awful to you. Why do you care if I’m happy or not?”

  “I guess I’ve let it go. In a way, it was good that you forced me to move on. Besides, you seem so sad.”

  I don’t know what it is about having someone notice I’m sad, but without warning tears start to stream down my face, as if my defenses evaporated when she saw through them. I can’t believe this is happening again. Am I going to lose it every time someone gives me a sympathetic look?

  I wipe my face with my napkin and take a sip of lukewarm coffee to steady myself.

  “I’m sorry, Hannah.”

  “People get over these things. I’m sure after break I’ll be back to normal.”

  I don’t really believe it, but I want it to be true.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I sleep pretty much the entire first week of break. That’s how it’s always been. The first year I came home and did it my mom was convinced I had mono or something even worse. I went to the doctor, who checked me out and pronounced that I was “filling the tank back up” and would be fine.

  This year it takes five days of sleeping twelve hours a night, plus naps. Aside from a visit with a couple of friends from high school, pretty much all I do is eat and sleep. Sometimes I’m not even awake when my mom comes home from work. Which means we haven’t actually spoken all that much.

  I do manage to wake up by eleven on Christmas morning. We don’t celebrate the holiday, but we have a long tradition of eating my mom’s potato pancakes.

  “You haven’t told me much about your trip,” she says, sitting down across from me. “Is everything all set?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” I spoon sour cream and applesauce onto my plate and take a bite of the crispy cake. My eyes close in bliss. I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks.

  “Where are you staying? Do you need help with any of it?”

  “It’s all under control. Dad gave me enough for the airfare, so it’s not too bad.”

  “Good, that’s the least he can do. How are other things?”

  “What other things?” I ask, ignoring her comment about Dad. It’s true that it’s the least he can do. I appreciate the money, but he’s not there for me like Mom is.

  “I used to know what was happening in your life, but this past semester I was lucky to know you were alive.”

  “I was super busy.”

  “I know that, honey. But something’s different. I can’t make you tell me, but I wish you would.”

  What do I tell her? I’ve been keeping so much from her this year, it’s hard to know what I want to reveal.

  “I was kind of dating this guy in my dorm,” I finally say. “We were friends, and then we started messing around, but it didn’t work out.” I almost leave it at that, but something makes me want to tell her more. My throat feels thick, like I have to force the last few words out. “He’s not my type, and I couldn’t see it going anywhere.”

  “I see. So you broke it off?”

  I nod.

  “I once broke off an engagement with someone. Even though it was my doing, I still felt awful.”

  “You never told me you were engaged to someone else.”

  “It was short-lived, and I thought better of it almost immediately. But I was still a mess for quite a while.”

  “How did you know he wasn’t right?”

  “Looking back, it was obvious from day one, but of course it took me a while to see it. My friends and family knew immediately, though.” She laughs. “God, your Aunt Honi hated him. H
e used to talk over me, and he never laughed at my jokes. He also tried to convince me to go to law school and give up on social work.”

  “He sounds like a creep.”

  “He wasn’t all bad, but he wasn’t great, either. He was my first serious boyfriend, so I didn’t have much to compare him to. I eventually realized we didn’t bring out the best in each other. We were always arguing, and I finally decided I didn’t want to live that way.”

  “I guess you didn’t do much better with Dad.”

  She stiffens. “Your dad and I tried our best. The fact that it ultimately didn’t last doesn’t mean it never should have happened.”

  We both eat in silence for a couple of minutes, but thanks to my comment, my mom’s frowning down at her plate. I say more to make up for being such an ass. And I suppose I do want her to know what’s happened.

  “The guy I was seeing—Casey—he’s kind of a player. He’s really hot, and everyone wants to sleep with him, so I knew it was only a matter of time before he moved on to someone new.”

  My mother looks up from her plate, clearly surprised I’ve said so much. “Then it sounds like you were smart to end it. You deserve someone who knows how special you are.”

  For some reason, this makes me want to defend him, explain that it wasn’t like that at all. I want to tell her that he laughed at my jokes and seemed to think I was capable of anything. When I was with him, there was no one in the world but us. If he wasn’t wonderful, I wouldn’t be nearly so miserable now.

  Then again, I didn’t invent Casey’s reputation or Lydia banging on his door in the middle of the night. Though I did basically invent the text message.

  I don’t say anything else about it, and she takes the hint.

  “What are your plans for New Year’s?” she asks, sliding another pancake onto my plate.

  “I thought I’d stay here with you.”

  The surprised look on her face makes me realize how dumb and self-centered it was to assume she didn’t have plans of her own. Like she would be here waiting whenever I needed her.

  “If you’re not doing anything,” I add. “But it’s no big deal if you are.”