Put Me Back Together(4)

Finally, the lock clicked open and I backed into my apartment, holding the door tight to my shoulder so he couldn’t see inside.

“Thanks for walking me,” I said with a lot of head nodding. “You didn’t have to. But it was really nice of you, so thanks. Thanks. Thank you.”

I’d never thanked someone so many times in my life. It made me feel tired. I liked it better when no one was around to help me, so there was no one to thank but myself.

“I think he’s asleep,” he whispered to me. I found myself staring at his lips, which were nicely full and pink and soft looking.

Then—and I blinked a lot while this was happening to be sure I wasn’t seeing things—he pulled open his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt. I glimpsed tanned skin and a smooth chest before I looked down, painfully embarrassed. When I looked up again he was holding out a bundle of fur. I gathered the animal into my arms and leaned against the doorframe. My cheeks were throbbing with heat now, which I was sure he could see, and I simply didn’t know where to look. I frowned at the hardwood floor.

“I’m Lucas, by the way,” he said. When I glanced up I saw that he was leaning down to peer into my downturned face, his expression curious. At least he wasn’t laughing at me.

“Katie,” I mumbled.

“Thanks for rescuing me, Katie,” he said. “I’ll never forget it.” He began walking down the hall, back toward the stairs.

“Rescuing you?” I said. “I didn’t—”

“What was that?” he said, cupping his hand around his ear. “I can’t hear you, Hero.”

“Lucas,” I called, leaning out the door. He stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back at me.

I said, “Don’t call me Hero.” And then I shut the door.





2





“So he gave the cat to you?” Emily said, her voice muffled because her face was pressed into my pillow.

“Yes. No. It was a weird night,” I said. “It wasn’t his cat.”

I set the new litter box on the ground and held up the kitty litter bag. “How much am I supposed to put in?” I said. “Do I fill it up all the way?”

I pushed the curtains farther open so I could read the instructions on the bag. Emily moaned and pulled the pillow over her head.

“No light!” she whined pitifully.

I gave the back of her head a look and yanked the curtains closed a little more.

“I told you to drink two glasses of water before bed.”

My sister rolled over grouchily, holding a hand over her eyes. “Sorry, Mom,” she said, “but since I don’t have my own apartment like some people, I have to share a fridge with Manic Melanie, who drinks all the bottled water like she’s filling her camel humps. I don’t have the luxury of my own full-sized refrigerator.”

Rolling my eyes, I pulled the cat bowls and brush out of my shopping bag. “You could have just gone to the bathroom. Doesn’t it have a sink? Or does the school deprive you of the luxury of hand washing, too?”

“It was so far away!” Emily cried. “Besides, I didn’t feel that bad once I was lying down. The room wasn’t even really spinning. This hangover is bullshit.”

I shook my head. We had this same conversation almost every weekend. The only difference was that this was a Monday morning and my dear sister had a European history test in about forty minutes.

“I offered to get a bigger apartment so we could be roommates,” I said. “And what did you say?”

She pressed the pillow into her face again. “I’m living in Res. Res is where all the fun happens.”

“Right!” I said brightly. “And aren’t we having so much fun right now?”

Emily moaned again. “I hate you.”

When my twin sister had chosen to go to the same university as me, a whopping four thousand kilometers from home, I’d fully expected that we would room together. But Emily wanted to have the full university experience: living in residence on campus, getting a meal plan, Frosh Week, shared bathrooms, and no privacy—all things that horrified me. Just imagining all those people in such close quarters made me break out in hives. I preferred my little apartment on a quiet street close to the Dairy Queen and just a five-minute walk from campus. It had seemed like a good idea to get some separation at first, but the truth was I missed my sister a lot, even if I saw her every day. She had this whole new life filled with all these new people I could barely keep track of. She was discovering the world and putting herself out there. She was opening up to new things, while I, as usual, remained closed up tight, as I had been for the past six years. She’d come all the way here with me; she hadn’t left me behind. But it was hard for me not to think of it that way sometimes, and not to envy everything about her life, even her hangovers.

My sister was living her life while I was doing my best to avoid mine.

“So back to the cat,” Emily said, “which I still don’t believe really exists—”

“I told you, he’s under the couch somewhere,” I said, although to be honest I had no idea where he was. Last night he’d leaped out of my arms and wiggled his way under the couch, and I hadn’t seen him since. I prayed he hadn’t clawed anything or thrown up anywhere. Already the idea of what he would deposit in the litter box was grossing me out.