Left Drowning(52)

“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t.”

“I think you do. Don’t let Chris talk you out of something that’s real to you. He’s brilliant, and beautiful, and about as perfect as they come, but that doesn’t make him right about everything. Hell, even though I freaked out on Estelle, I don’t know there isn’t something else. You don’t know that, and even Chris doesn’t know that. There’s nothing wrong with that. We don’t have to know everything. If you believe in fate and some kind of meaning and sense in this f*cked-up world, then believe with abandon. Enjoy it.”

For a minute, despite the sound of the loudspeaker sales announcements and the nonstop chatter of shoppers, everything seems quiet. It is just me and Sabin in this huge store, and I’m overwhelmed at how well he’s tapped into my internal battle. My secret wish to believe in fate, spirituality, or something so I don’t only have to exist with the cold certainty I feel that there is nothing bigger than random chance. Yet Sabin’s words have somehow alleviated the pain I feel over the discord, and for a moment I wonder if it’s okay to be undecided. Or maybe to even hope for something.

Chris appears. “All set.”

I break away from Sabin’s stare. “What’s the damage?” I ask.

“Nothing. You’re all set. We can pull the truck around to the back and they’ll load it in for us.”

It takes me a second to understand what he’s telling me. “You bought me a ginormous TV?”

“And we’re going to Hawaii?” Sabin starts jumping up and down and tossing movies at us.

Chris just stands there grinning.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


The Old and the New


Outside in the freezing cold, I try to pace myself on the last run I’ll be doing in Wisconsin this year. Tomorrow morning, December 21, I take a flight home. By the late afternoon, I’ll be back in the house that I grew up in. James comes in on the twenty-third, so I’ll have two days entirely alone. But I am determined not to feel alone.

I’m not sure where I’ll run at home, and it’s making me anxious. If I get lucky, we won’t have snow, and it’ll just be the cold temperatures that I have to deal with. I’m used to those from running here, and I actually like it now that I have the right running gear. My dependency on running is undeniable, and I know that my workouts are going to suffer over break. The next playlist starts, and I smile. It’s a new one from Chris, and it makes this run easy. More than easy: exhilarating.

After my run, I shower and pack. Estelle is gone—again—so I set her Christmas present on her bed so that I don’t forget to give it to her before I leave. I have no idea if I’ll see her tonight or even tomorrow morning. As far as I know, none of her siblings know anything about this boyfriend of hers. I certainly wish that I didn’t.

I had the unfortunate experience of seeing her with him yesterday, and if I’d finished my anthropology paper just a few minutes earlier, I would not have been in the dark corridor of the department building just before it closed for the afternoon, thick paper in hand, cursing my professor for not accepting digital copies. But I was. When I rounded the corner to my professor’s hall, I saw them through the windows of the door that led to the back stairwell. Even with all of the self-pleasuring time I’m afforded with Estelle out of the room, I can’t say that I’ve ever fantasized about watching my roommate have sex with someone.

Especially not a professor.

It does, at least, explain why she doesn’t talk about him. I’m guessing that Estelle’s God does not endorse f*cking your professor. I recognized the man she was screwing because he’d filled in for my professor one day, and I’d been fascinated by the way he had thumped the desk and then immediately snapped his fingers every time he wanted to emphasize a certain point. I sincerely hope that Estelle does not have to tolerate that habit when they f*ck. Like, does he have an orgasm and then do the old thump-and-snap to underscore the point? Luckily, I don’t stay long enough to find out and manage to deliver my paper and get the hell out of there without being noticed. Unfortunately, I am stuck with the visual of Estelle vigorously humping the guy.

Distracting myself, though, is easy enough now that it’s the day before my departure. I want James to come home to a fully decorated house, so I’ve been keeping a running list of things to do and buy. I’ve ordered him dozens of presents online and done my best to time their delivery for after I’m home and before James is. Wrapping his gifts alone will take hours because I want them to be perfect. Aunt Lisa was a complete disaster when it came to gift giving, and I will not miss forcing a smile after opening my annual gift card to The Olive Garden or something dull like a set of twin sheets.

When my suitcase is packed, I stop by Chris’s room to give him his present. I’m giving him something that’s actually wrapped in snowflake paper, even though I certainly felt the temptation to announce instead that I was gracing him with the honor of deflowering me for Christmas (Happy holidays!), but it didn’t seem like a good idea. We have a good thing going right now.

He opens his door wearing a Grinch T-shirt. “Bah humbug!”

“Ditto,” I say. “But I’m here to give you a little present anyway.”

“If it’s not high-end electronic equipment, I don’t want it.”