In the Wake of Wanting

  “You would get bored.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think I would.”

  “Well,” she says. “I feel the same way about you.”

  “Thank you,” I say simply, knowing how to accept a compliment.

  “But you do look tired.”

  “I am.”

  “What sort of homework do you have tonight?”

  “Believe it or not, since I have no articles to write, I have nothing that I need to work on tonight. I got everything done last weekend for tomorrow’s classes.”

  “Lucky. I have an article to write.”

  “Which means I’ll have work tomorrow night,” I remind her.

  “Do you… want to get together to edit?”

  “I’m having dinner with my parents. They don’t know about me and Zai yet. I wanted to tell them in person… but let’s do this again tomorrow night. If I can help it, I’d rather not go another day without seeing you.”

  “Do you realize how romantic you sound?” Her smile is huge.

  “Do you realize how amorous you make me feel?” She covers her face with both hands, clearly giddy at my admission. “God, and then you’re so cute, too. How can you be cute and sexy and so completely elegant and charming, laureate? How can you be everything in one package like that?”

  “Stop it!” she says, laughing.

  “Shit. You’re right,” I concur. “I could do this for hours, but I need to go to bed. Coach wants me to practice between classes tomorrow, and I have a meeting with Aslon and Pryana before dinner tomorrow night. I need rest.”

  “Then sweet dreams, boss. You, like, really are that now.”

  “Junior boss,” I correct her, looking at her seriously.

  “Okay, boss.” She’s not taking me seriously.

  I smile at her, but then wonder if I’ve been smiling the whole time. “Coley?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve really enjoyed Day One.”

  “I mean,” she starts, “the meatballs really put it up there in my top ten.”

  I glare at her playfully.

  She cups her hands around her mouth and whispers closely to the mic on her laptop. “One of the best days of my life.” She pulls back and points to her forehead. “You kissed me right there.”

  I nod.

  “You missed by six inches and it was still the best kiss I’ve ever received.”

  “I missed, huh?”

  “Bad aim. Work on that.”

  “Okay. Good night, laureate. Talk to you on Day Two.”

  “Sleep well.”

  “Write well.”

  chapter eighteen

  “Mom? Dad?” I call out loud enough for myself to be heard on any of the three floors of the brownstone. They were expecting me, and they’re usually in the living room waiting for me. I pass through the kitchen, where pots and pans sit on the stove, cooking. The backyard is empty.

  “Surprise!” A chorus of congratulatory greetings rings out from the formal dining room to my right.

  “What in the…” My parents step forward, offering warm embraces, plus a kiss from my mom and a handshake from my dad. My sister and Jon are right behind them, leading Chris and Anna and my dad’s brothers, Matty and Steven, and their spouses. A few of their kids are even here, and so is Grandma Hennigan.

  I was hoping for a quiet meal with Mom and Dad. I was not expecting this.

  “It’s not every day you get a story on the front page of the New York Times,” Matty’s husband, Nolan, announces. The heat rises to my cheeks, but I nod, acknowledging the achievement that I’d discovered as soon as I turned on my phone this morning. Professor Aslon had left me a voicemail and a text. The president of Columbia offered his congratulations with a message, too. My dad had sent a picture. Throughout the morning, more and more notifications filtered in.

  Not all were positive, either. Asher’s story was everywhere. It even made the local broadcast news at lunchtime, which was on in coach’s office right off the dressing room. I caught the tail end of it after practice.

  My meeting at The Wit was just between me and my instructor. Pryana, Lucy and Kamiesha had been bombarded with interview requests, but by the end of the day, when I met with Professor Aslon, she told me that a lawyer had been retained to consult with them.

  “Thanks… and Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks for hiring Danny for the girls.”

  “When I saw who Asher had hired, I knew they’d need all the help they could get. The state prosecutor’s fine, but I want the best for them.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Where’s Zaina?” Livvy asks. “I brought her that chocolate mousse she likes so much.”

  “Uhhh… well…” Glancing around the room, I meet the expectant eyes of every last one of my relatives, finally settling on my grandmothers’. She and Zaina had a special relationship; she had taught my ex-girlfriend how to knit. In fact, she’s wearing the scarf Zaina had made for her last winter. I walk over to her, holding her frail hand in mine. “This isn’t quite the way I’d imagined delivering this news, but Zaina and I broke up Sunday night.”

  “What?” My sister seems to be the most shocked.

  Grandma Hennigan squeezes my hand tightly. “Are you okay, Trey?” she asks me quietly.

  “Yeah, Grandma. I am.” I look at my parents, afraid to see their disappointment. I think Dad expected it based on our conversation from the other night, but he apparently didn’t tell my mother. Her eyes have teared up. “I know, Mom.” I walk over to her and give her a hug. She loved Zaina, too, and it’s the first time I’ve realized what our breakup means to everyone else in my family. Whereas I got to tell her goodbye–and her parents, too–my family doesn’t get that closure.

  I walk with her into the kitchen. Dad, Livvy and Jon follow us, but the rest of my family stays in the other room, giving us a little privacy.

  “What happened? Was it her decision? Is this why she came home?” Livvy fires off her questions quickly. “You had me make that sweet notebook for her and everything,” she says, rubbing my arm sympathetically.

  I shake my head. “No, Liv. It was my decision. That… This has been a long time coming. We’ve been drifting apart since–since she went to Oxford, really. Maybe even before that.”

  “Trey,” Mom says, and now the disappointment settles in her eyes. “School is just a temporary hurdle.”

  “It’s not just the distance, Mom. Even when she’s here, things aren’t the way they once were. My feelings for her have changed. I’m not in love with her like I once was.” I try to be as definitive as I possibly can be to leave no question in their minds that this is a permanent decision, because the decision to be with Coley is coming in the not too distant future.

  “She flew all the way out here for you to break things off?”

  “Don’t look at it that way, Mom, please? I wanted to do it in person. I thought she deserved that. It was her decision to come here, and no, I didn’t stop her. I didn’t want to keep stringing her along. I seized an opportunity, but now she’s with her parents and Brinlee… I hope she doesn’t regret coming home. I feel like she’s in the best place to deal with the news.”

  “That poor thing,” she says.

  “Em.” Dad puts his arm around her. “I’m sure Trey has put a lot of thought into this. He’s not our impulsive child. I’m certain this wasn’t an easy decision for him to make, but we have to trust that he knows it’s the right one for him.”

  “It is.”

  “Then we support you,” he tells me. “Zaina’s a smart girl with a bright future. You’re right, it’s good that she’s with her mother and father and friends right now. And I think it was very admirable of you to do this face-to-face.”

  “So, wait,” Livvy interrupts. “Then who was that little notebook for yesterday morning? The rush project that was so important it had to be done by ten A.M.” She plows right through her question even though the look I’m giving her is clearly communic
ating that I’d like for her to shut up. She looks around at our parents and her husband, then explains. “He made me paint ‘Let’s Dance’ on a little red notebook.”

  “It was for a friend,” I explain quickly, walking past everyone toward the refrigerator to get a drink.

  “What kind of friend?” Livvy asks, following closely on my heels.

  “Contessa,” Dad says, calling her by his nickname for her, “leave him alone.”

  “Why can’t I ask that?”

  “He doesn’t need the third degree right now. We’re supposed to be celebrating his Times debut, anyway, right, Jackson?” He pats me on the back, obviously proud.

  “Sure,” I say, leading everyone into the dining room. I notice for the first time a cake positioned in the middle of the table, decorated to look like a newspaper. “Did Aunt Kelly make this?”

  “Of course,” Dad says.

  “I need a knife.”

  “You need to eat dinner first,” my mother says. “Lasagna’s in the oven and it should be done soon.” My stomach rumbles on queue. My dad makes the best lasagna.

  “Will there be enough to take any back to my place?”

  “I made a small batch for you that’s in the fridge, Jackson,” he calls to me from the kitchen. Already I know I want to freeze it and save it for Coley to try.

  “I’m on to you,” my sister says as she passes by me to sit down.

  “Can I take that mousse back with me?” I ask her, ignoring her statement.

  “No,” she says. “That was for Zai.”

  “Your mom dropped a shirt behind the washing machine,” Jon says to me, breaking up the tension. “Come help me move it.”

  With my arms full of leftovers and my heart full of the love only my family can give me, I return to my apartment at the end of the evening. It’s late, and I still have homework, but my video chat with Coley takes precedence. We’re discussing work that has to be done for tomorrow, but I really just want to see her and talk to her more than anything.

  “Do you have chopsticks in your hair?” I ask her as soon as she gets online.

  “We ordered in for dinner… they gave us one too many sets and my hair was in my face,” she explains. “Do you have a problem with it?”

  “No, it’s cute,” I tell her. “They’re like tiny ossicones.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I roll my eyes at her. “We need to take a trip to the zoo, laureate. Ossicones. Giraffe horns.”

  “That’s really what they’re called?”

  “Are you accusing me of fabricating words?”

  “Well, you have a New York Times byline now, so you can be as pretentious as you want to be,” she teases me.

  “Are you upset you didn’t want to include your name in this?” I ask her. I’d been wondering all day.

  “When I first saw it this morning, yes. I was a little jealous but when I remembered that Asher’s out of jail, I realized it was the best decision I’d made to leave my name off. In fact, I kind of wish your name hadn’t been attached to it now.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re not afraid?”

  “Of Asher? No,” I admit. “He’s not allowed on campus. The whole city’s watching him right now. But I’m still glad we left your name off. I would be afraid for you. I’m sorry if that seems inconsistent or even sexist. I’m bigger than he is and can defend myself. You’re…”

  “I’m tiny and I might have a more difficult time. But you haven’t seen me fight.”

  “I’ve seen a pretty plucky side of you. I don’t doubt you could do some serious damage with those stabby hair-picks you’re wearing,” I suggest. She starts laughing, then takes out the chopsticks and lets her silky, blonde hair fall gracefully past her shoulders. She rakes her fingers through it once, moving the strands that momentarily obscured her eyes from me. “That is so distracting.”

  “What is?”

  “The image of you on my computer screen. The whole package. This can never work, Coley. If you were to be in my life every day, I would never get a damn thing done. No. We have to end this thing now.”

  “No!” she squeals and giggles. “I can color my hair.” I shake my head. “Or cut it. I could get glasses, or I can cake on my makeup.”

  “I don’t think any of those things would make a difference. It’s the essence of you. How do you banish an essence? No, the quintessence of… simply being alive? Because that’s what you are. You are alive. You are life.”

  She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You’re right. It’s over.” Her hand moves quickly toward the camera, and suddenly she’s gone.

  I sit up straight, feeling lost. Staring at the blank screen, I wait for her to come back, feeling certain she was joking. I could do homework in the meantime, but her image is still burned in my retinas, and I’m not ready to let that go quite yet.

  Five minutes later, I’m concerned and call her.

  “That was an eternity, Trey.”

  “Well, why’d you hang up on me?”

  “Because sometimes you’re the most poetic non-poet I’ve ever met, and you make me feel inadequate.”

  “Steal my words, Coley. Take their sentiment. Take everything I have, I don’t care.” I swallow hard. “Just don’t leave me like that. So abrupt and unforeseen.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I was just playing around.”

  “I know. But I felt disoriented. It was jolting, nonetheless.”

  “Why isn’t it Friday yet?” she asks. I grin, gripping my bottom lip loosely between my thumb and forefinger, drawing her eyes there. I watch as her tongue juts out briefly to moisten her lips. This is how many intimate video chat sessions with Zaina began. Maybe someday in the near future, Coley and I will share something similar.

  What am I thinking? She’ll be here in person. I unbutton my jeans, a task that had become an immediate necessity as I thought about making love to Coley. Before I let myself get carried away, I switch gears.

  “Pull up your article, laureate. Let’s get some work done.”

  chapter nineteen

  Teri, Coley’s roommate, opens the door for me on Friday night. She scans me from head to toe–and then shuts the door in my face. I knock once more.

  She opens the door just a crack. “Five more minutes. You can wait down the hall,” she tells me.

  “Okay,” I say, curious, but not questioning her. The TV viewing area reminds me of the night I ran over here after my panic attack–the night Coley angrily told me I should have a good alibi after I defended Asher. I decide to wait by the windows instead. The street below is quiet, much different than I imagine frat row is right now. I thought I’d miss the camaraderie, but I don’t–especially after the way I was treated this week.

  I’d relied on my old friends for support–Max and Callen–even though they were both in California. Distance wasn’t the only thing separating us. Zaina had decided to fly out to San Diego to stay with Max on Wednesday, so that created its own set of challenges. I know Max can be impartial, though. I’ve relied more on Callen the past two days, giving Max and my ex some time to bond in light of what transpired last weekend.

  The soft clatter of high heels isn’t a sufficient warning that Coley’s behind me. I’ve never known her to wear heels before, but it’s her angelic face reflecting in the window, looking eager and excited, that notify me of her presence.

  “Hi.” I turn around to get the full visual. She’s got on a light taupe trench coat that stops just above her knees. Beneath that peeks the jagged hemline of a white dress, hanging about two inches below. Her naturally-tanned legs stand tall in three-inch open-toe black heels. When my eyes travel up the length of her body to reach hers, I’m nodding to show my satisfaction. I like that she wore a dress.

  “Hi.” She leans in to give me a hug. In addition to the piña colada, I smell a light floral scent, too.

  “New perfume?”

  “Just body spray,” she says. “It’s Teri’s.”

  “
It’s nice. You look pretty. That’s not the right word,” I say as I hold on to a strand of her hair.

  “Thank you,” she says. “You look like that Polished Trey Holland guy.”

  “Do I?”

  “Where’s your tie?” she asks.

  “Just the jacket tonight,” I confess. “I’ve always hated ties and will avoid them at all costs if I can.”

  “Good to know,” she says.

  “Why, uh… why’d Teri shut me out back there?” I ask her, taking her hand in mine and walking toward the elevators. Holding her hand is already my new favorite thing to do.

  “I was waiting for you to get here before I got dressed.”

  “Did you think I wasn’t going to show?”

  “Oh!” She laughs. “No! You were just super unhelpful when I asked what I should wear.”

  “I think ‘dress comfortably’ is suitable instruction. I did.”

  “In your coat and slacks…” she teases.

  “It’s very comfortable.” I have to defend my suit choice. It’s my favorite one.

  “Had I listened to your instruction, I would have been wearing my Punjammies and a tank top. Now that’s comfortable.”

  When the elevator doors open, I stop her from getting in. “I don’t know what that means, but go change.”

  “No!” she says. “They’re my pajamas, and I wouldn’t be comfortable going out in public with them on. I assume we’re going out in public.”

  I signal for her to step into the elevator and follow her inside. “Yes.”

  “So you need to be more specific when you tell me to dress comfortably. Like, I’m comfortable in this knowing you’re wearing that.”

  “You don’t need to dress for me or anyone else. One of the little perks of dating me? They’ll let you in no matter what you’re wearing.”

  “Punjammies included?”

  “I may have to inspect those sometime to see what they are first. But some places, probably.”

  “You saw them when I stayed with you.” She pulls up her phone and quickly shows me the patterned pants on a website.

  “Those are pajamas? I thought you were just wearing pants all the time because you were being modest.”