Asking for It

Page 38

Libby, whom I haven’t seen since last Easter. Libby, who begged me to braid her long golden hair. I slid daisies into the plaits, and she thought that was the most magical, beautiful thing ever.

“My emotions were complicated, actually. ” I only say this because I know Shay realizes that I keep my distance from my family, and she doesn’t snoop into the reasons why. “But I love her more than anybody else on earth. ”

I love Libby that much, and I never see her.

Shay and I have to get back to our respective departments, so I down the last of my mochaccino. She’s back to her usual bouncy self, while I have to struggle to keep smiling. As soon as we part, I let my face fall. The world around me seems to blur. I’m trapped inside my own thoughts, and my own regrets.

In my mind, I hear Libby singing on that voice mail I’ve saved. Happy birthday, Aunt Vivi—

Tears blur my vision. Undergrads swarm around me, a sea of ponytails and backpacks and laughter, but I feel alone. I push my way blindly through the crowd until I hear, “Vivienne?”

It’s Jonah.

Amid the brilliantly colored T-shirts and jackets of the students around us, Jonah stands alone, stark in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans. He’s the only one who stands still, the only one who’s looking at me. The only one who knows who I am. Although he doesn’t come any closer, his gray eyes search mine. I know Jonah didn’t call my name just to say hello. He said it because he can see I’m upset.

I attempt a smile, badly. “Coffee’s that way,” I say, pointing to the Starbucks that must be his destination. “Talk to you later. ”

Jonah nods. I turn away from him to head toward the Department of Fine Arts. It takes about seven minutes to walk the distance. Seven minutes is how long I have to pull myself together. When I walk into the meeting, I have to be calm. Assured. Confident. Anyone but myself.

The department meeting goes well.

Like I said, by now I’m pretty good at faking it.

•   •   •

Nighttime.

Originally I’d planned to go get sushi with Carmen and some of her friends from the math department, but I text her to beg off. Worst headache ever, I type out, lying without guilt. She wouldn’t really understand, anyway.

As much as I love Carmen, as close to her as I am, I’ve never told her about the rape. I never told Geordie, either, or Derek, or any of my other boyfriends. The one time I told people I love the truth about what Anthony did to me—that didn’t end well.

I’m too tense and distracted to grade student essays. For a while I try to watch movies on Netflix, but none of them can hold my attention. Finally I take my frustrations out on the housework. Soon my little house smells like Comet and lemon Joy. With yellow rubber gloves on my hands, I scrub every dish, both sinks, the toilet, the tub, and even the grout between the tiles. By the time I’m done, this place will be spotless.

Just as I lean up to wipe sweat from my forehead with one arm, my phone rings. Generic ringtone. I strip off the rubber gloves as I go to answer. Probably it’s one of the other TAs, but if this is another election robocall, I swear, I will not be held responsible for my actions. “Hello?”

A pause follows. Then: “Hi, Vivienne. ”

It’s the last person I expected to hear from tonight.

It’s Jonah.

Thirteen

I thought Jonah would call for only one of two reasons: either to let me know about some last-minute change in our plans—or to make new plans for another of our games.

But here I am, at nearly eleven P. M. , listening to Jonah . . . being concerned.

“I wanted to check on you. When we bumped into each other today, you looked . . . ” His voice trails off. How strange, to hear someone as sure and stoic as Jonah Marks sounding uncertain. “You didn’t look good. ”

What am I supposed to say? A bad habit of mine—I try to think of what people want to hear, instead of just telling the truth. But I have no idea what Jonah wants.

“I realize I’m out of bounds here,” Jonah says, and now he sounds more like himself. “Still, if I was any part of why you were so upset today—if what we’re doing is turning out to be a problem for you—just say so. We can always call this off, or wait a while. I wouldn’t want to be a part of anything you found disturbing. ”

Which is hilarious. From the first moment I laid eyes on Jonah, my life has been nothing but disturbing.

That doesn’t mean I want to call it off.

“We’re fine,” I say. “What got to me today didn’t have anything to do with you. I promise. ”