Again, But Better(47)
“Sahra!” I yelp. I stare at my keyboard now, cheeks blazing.
“Way to fill me in!” Babe accuses.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” I tell her.
“So did he ask you out?” Atticus asks.
“He wants to go out on Wednesday,” I mumble.
“That’s exciting!” Atticus grins.
“Well, I told him: No, sorry, I’ll be in Germany,” I add sheepishly. Out of the corner my eye, I see Pilot’s fork stop moving.
“You’re going to Germany?” Sahra asks.
“No,” I answer guiltily.
“Shane!” Babe giggles and turns to resume her cooking prep.
Atticus breaks into a full-on cackle.
Pilot turns his head and meets my eyes for the first time in over a week. “Why don’t you want to go out with him?” he asks.
My heart rams against my chest. You should ask him if we can talk outside.
I swallow. “I just … didn’t like him.” I can’t make my mouth form any more words. We hold each other’s gaze for an extra second in which I desperately try to communicate But I do like you, can we talk, do you have any interest in me, what happened in Paris? with my eyes. Sizzles and pops permeate the room, disturbing the moment. I look away to find Babe breaking up a blob of ground beef on the stove.
Atticus pipes in from the sink where he’s about to drain his pasta, “Well, don’t worry. I’ll help you draft something to let him down easy.”
20. Spinning
2/15/11
It’s been a while.
Other than interning at Packed!, which is fine (I’m still running basic errands), and doing writing assignments for class, which is going great, basically three things happened in these past two weeks:
1) Babe and I decided to plan a flat family dinner.
Because all of a sudden the whole flat got super-busy. We haven’t hung out all together in ages (weeks but it feels like ages). I barely see Sahra, Atticus has always been busy, and Pilot’s MIA. Babe and I go out of our way to chat most days, but even that’s been difficult. I guess the combo of internships and class can do that. Babe and I discussed our lack of hangs and decided the way to fix it was a scheduled flat activity: an American family dinner with the works—baked ziti, wine, cards, and beer pong. She started a group Facebook chat to work out what day would be best for everyone.
2) I didn’t speak to Pilot.
After that night in the kitchen when we talked about Rugby Guy, I didn’t even see Pilot for six whole days, let alone exchange words. I was writing in my bunk when I finally caught sight of him walking into the kitchen through the bedroom window. He set his open computer down on the table and chucked a frozen meal into the microwave. For a minute, I debated going in there to “write,” but then I realized he was talking—Skyping again. My heart slunk further down into its metaphorical chair as he shared a laugh with the screen.
3) We scheduled the family dinner.
It might as well be a hundred years from now. When four of us can make of it, one of us can’t, and when three of us can make it, two of us can’t. The date we picked was so far in the future that Atticus suggested we just save the dinner as a big last-day-in-London flat celebration.
So now, it’s scheduled for our last day in London (April 22).
I feel a little like I’ve lost control of my raft. Like, I came to this river with the boat, and I was rowing toward my destination, but somehow I got caught in a tide. How do I reestablish control? Was I ever steering? I must have been. I got myself to London, didn’t I?
* * *
“Do you know what you’re doing for spring break yet?” Babe asks as she twirls some spaghetti Bolognese onto her fork. We coordinated our dinner eating times today, but I finished way before her and am currently working on character bios.
My eyebrows furrow, and I push my computer screen down a bit so I can see her face at the end of table. “We have spring break? When?”
“Next week, Shane.” She laughs.
“What? That’s so soon. Don’t we all have work?”
“It’s written into everyone’s internship schedule; it’s part of our program,” she says matter-of-factly. “I’m going on a tour of Ireland! And I’m going by myself. It’s going to be great, like an epic adventure!”
“Wow, good for you,” I say halfheartedly.
“Yeah, I’ve never gone somewhere by myself before, but traveling alone is supposed to be an amazing experience. And I’ll be on a bus tour, so I’ll meet people, and it should be kind of like a journey of self-discovery, you know. And Guinness was invented there. I think I’ll get to go to the factory.”
I smile at her enthusiasm. “Well, that’s awesome. Do you know what Sahra’s doing?” I ask.
“Yeah, she’s meeting her boyfriend in Barcelona to celebrate her birthday!”
“Wow,” I respond softly.
I wonder what Pilot’s plans are.
Why are you wondering? You haven’t spoken in two weeks.
The door bangs open as Atticus races in with a bag of groceries. “Hey, guys!” he greets us before reaching into the bag and whipping out yet another frozen meal. “I’m running late for a play, but I’ve gotta take ten minutes and eat!” He rips the food from the box and stabs at it with a butter knife.