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Authors: Eliza Lentzski

Second Chances (14 page)

BOOK: Second Chances
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For the second time of the early day, Reagan was in panic mode.  She jumped out of bed and began digging through her purse for her phone.  She was more than disappointed in herself.  Ashley had insisted she’d be fine on her own and Reagan had stupidly left her at the party to fend for herself. She’d been so anxious to get back to Allison before she could run away, she’d overlooked her roommate’s safety.

As she watched Reagan frantically search for her phone, Allison frowned, missing the heat of Reagan’s body.  When she realized why she was frowning, she frowned even deeper.  This was getting out of control.

Reagan held her phone up triumphantly.  “She’s okay!” she announced, breaking Allison from her troubling thoughts.  She stood to her full height. “She texted me last night that she was going to stay at our friend Denise’s dorm room.”  Her features revealed her relief as she continued to read the message out loud. “So we could have some time alone.”

Allison bolted upright. “What does she mean, ‘have some time alone?’”

Reagan looked up from her telephone screen.  “Uh, I im
agine she means so you and I could spend some time by ourselves.”

Allison’s hands went to the top sheet and she bunched the material in her clenched fists. “Why would she think we need time by ourselves?” she asked in a strained voice.

Reagan stared at the girl in her bed.  If possible, Allison’s porcelain skin looked ever paler than usual.  Her hazel eyes shifted erratically.  “Allie?” Reagan asked concerned.  “Are you feeling okay?  You look a little…not like you.”

Allison’s eyes snapped into focus and she leveled an intense glare on Reagan.  “Why would your roommate say those things about us?” she demanded.  “What did you tell her?”

Reagan held up her hands in retreat. “Whoa.  Slow down.  I didn’t say anything to her.”

“Then why would she say that?” Allison seethed.

Allison was like a grenade, about to implode and Reagan feared the shrapnel of her rage.  She’d been on the receiving end of that temper during high school and it never ended well.  “Don’t get mad at me, okay? But I don’t see what the big deal is.” 

“Big deal?” Allison practically shrieked.  “Big deal?  This could
ruin
me!”

“Ruin you?” Reagan naively echoed. “What are you talking about?”

Allison launched herself out of bed and immediately began throwing her things into her open suitcase.

“Wait,” Reagan said, stunned and dumbfounded by the morning’s events. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Allison growled. “I’m packing my bag.  I’m going home.”  She yanked the zipper shut and stood up stiffly. “And when I get back to Providence, I think it’s best if we don’t talk for a while.”

Reagan grabbed the handle of Allison’s wheeled suitcase and yanked it out of her hand.
The suitcase noisily fell over.

“Don’t touch me, Murphy,” Allison rasped. The sudden use of her last name felt like an open-palm slap to the face. “I need some time and space to get my head on straight.”

Reagan’s mouth twisted.  “Is that word choice deliberate?”

Allison quickly replayed her previous statement in her head.  When she realized what she’d said, she gave Reagan a sour look.  “Is this funny to you?”

Reagan instantly grew serious.  “Of course it’s not,” she declared.  “But I also don’t think this is something time away from each other is going to resolve.”  She gave Allison a peculiar look.  “What are you trying to accomplish by doing this?”

Allison’s face scrunched up, and for a moment, Reagan thought she might cry.  “Being around you is too confusing right now.”

“Confusing how?” Reagan demanded.

“Why do you
always need me to explain myself?” Allison stated with heat.  The longer Reagan refused to drop the subject, the more her frustration grew.

“Because I don’t want to lose you again!” Reagan said with equal ferociousness. 

Allison stood still.  Reagan’s volume surprised her.

“High school was hell,” Reagan announced, seemingly out of nowhere.

“I know it was,” Allison fumed, angry to be back on this topic. “I was purposely cruel.  I thought we were past all that.”

“You were a bully, yes,” Reagan agreed, “but that wasn’t the worst part.  High school was torture because we used to be best friends and then suddenly we weren’t.  I had to see you in the hallways everyday knowing what I’d lost,” she noted with a frown.  “We’d been inseparable all our lives, and I couldn’t figure out why you didn’t like me anymore, and my mother had just …” Reagan’s eyes filled with tears and she choked back a sob.  “And my mother had just…” she tried again.  She clamped her mouth shut and her shoulders slumped forward.

“Reagan.” Allison frowned.

Reagan’s shoulders began to shake as she tried to control her emotions.

Allison felt sick.  She knew she’d been unnecessarily mean to Reagan in high school.  If other students were preoccupied tormenting Reagan with her, they would be too busy to recognize how insecure she felt all the time.  Popularity was fickle and fleeting and she’d worked hard, no matter the cost, to stay at the top of the food chain.  But until this moment, with her first friend shaking with anguish in front of her, she’d never fully realized the depth of her cruelty.  She had been mean, but even worse, she’d denied her friendship at the one moment Reagan had needed it the most.

Ignoring her brain’s pleas to just stay away, Allison threw her arms around Reagan’s rocking form and pulled her tight. 

With Allison’s long limbs solidly around her frame, Reagan finally let herself fall apart.  The sobs came harder now, and without Allison’s silent stability, she knew she would shatter.  Reagan buried her face into Allison’s neck.  Tears fell freely against her skin. 

When she felt the damp
ness, Allison gripped Reagan tighter.  “Reagan,” she hushed again. “It’s okay. Just let it out.”

Reagan turned her face into
Allison and her warm breath fell hot against her throat.  Allison stiffened, her own breath catching. She felt perversely turned on.

“Wha
t time is your train?” Reagan sniffled, wiping at her eyes.  Her tears had dried on her face, making her skin feel salty and tight.

Allison glanced at the digital clock near Reagan’s bed. “In about an hour.”

Reagan’s features immediately crumpled. “Okay,” she choked out.

“I’ll take a later train,” Allison said.  Her resolve was almost depleted.  If she stayed, she’d regret it.  But if she left on the next train with Reagan still so visibly broken, she’d hate herself.

“You don’t have to do that,” Reagan sniffled, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll take a later train,” Allison repeated, this time more forcefully.

Reagan sucked in a shallow breath and nodded. “Okay.”

 

+++++

 

The sheep’s meadow at Central Park was surprisingly vacant that afternoon. Everyone in the park seemed to be coupled up, lost in each other.  A few individuals did yoga on foam mats, undisturbed by the sounds of children playing and squealing in the distance from a nearby playground.

Allison
bit into her chicken Caesar pita.  On their way to the park, they’d stopped at a corner grocery store and had picked up a few items for a makeshift picnic. She tilted her face up to feel the sun warm against her skin.

“More grapes?”

She opened her eyes and squinted into the bright sunlight until she could make out Reagan holding a small plastic container filled with red seedless grapes.  Allison smiled her thanks and plucked a few grapes from the translucent contained before popping them into her mouth.  “It’s a nice day, huh?” she observed around the sweet, bursting fruit.

“Mmhm,” Reagan agreed.  She set the container down on the blanket they were sitting on and began to pick at a frayed corner.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Reagan wordlessly nodded, but didn’t look up.  She continued to fiddle with the blanket’s worn edge.  She finally looked up when she felt Allison’s hand
, warm on top of hers, stopping her from destroying the blanket.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Allison observed.  “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”  She ran her thumb across the top of Reagan’s hand.

Reagan looked down to where their hands touched.  “I guess I’m just a little embarrassed about my outburst earlier.”

“You? Embarrassed? I didn’t think that emotion was in your repertoire,” Allison lightly teased.

Reagan pulled her hand out from under Allison’s touch.  It should have felt comforting, but instead it made her skin crawl. “You’ve become quite tactile,” she observed.

“Tactile?”

“Touchy.”

“I know what the word means, Reagan,” Allison scoffed.  “I got a 32 on my Verbal ACTs.” She frowned hard.  “But if it bothers you, I won’t touch you anymore.”

“No, that’s not it,” Reagan said, grabbing onto both of Allison’s hands as if proving her point. “I’m sorry.  I just was making an observation, that’s all.”

“Do you come here often?” Allison asked, changing the subject.

Reagan nodded and let go of Allison’s hands. “I miss open spaces,” she admitted.  “It can feel awfully claustrophobic, especially in Manhattan.”  She looked off into the distance and her eyes seemed to focus on a faraway spot. 

“Do you think you’ll stay here after college?”
Allison flexed her toes, enjoying the sensation of tall, soft grass against her skin.

Reagan’s gaze refocused on the girl next to her. “Maybe.  It would make sense.  But there are things I miss from home.”

“Like what?”

“I miss the horizon.  I miss Michigan sunsets.”

Allison smirked.  “Now
you
sound like the writer.”

Reagan sat up straighter. “Are you ever going to let me read something you’ve written?”

“Probably not.”

“Well that’s not fair.”

“Are you going to let me see one of your paintings?” Allison countered.

A suddenly bashful smile reached Reagan’s lips. “Probably not.”

Allison turned to look directly at Reagan. “Why not?”

Reagan shrugged.  She picked at a long blade of grass.  It ripped away from the earth and she rolled the single blade between her fingers.  “It’s personal.”

“And you don’t think my writing is personal?” Allison countered.

“I don’t know.  You’ve never let me read anything,” Reagan said cheekily.

“Maybe some day.”

Reagan
bit down on her lower lip. “I really wish you were coming home this summer.”

Allison shook her head. “There’s no reason for me to go back. There’s nothing for me there.”

“I’d
be there,” Reagan pointed out.

“I know.”
Allison frowned guiltily.  “I’m sorry. I just…can’t.  I’m fine visiting my family over short holiday breaks, but not for an entire summer.”

“Your mom is nice,” Reagan noted. “Or at least I remember she was when we were younger.”

“She is,” Allison confirmed with a tense nod. “I just can’t handle my dad.  It gets to be overwhelming if I’m home for too long. He and I are too alike, but at the same time not at all similar.”

“You could stay at my house if your dad gets under your skin?”
Reagan offered.

Allison shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to put you
and your dad out like that.”

“Stop being so damn polite all the time,” Reagan complained.  “Just…think about it, okay?”

Allison chewed on her lower lip. “Okay.”

Reagan stood up and brushed at her backside.  Allison looked up after her.  “Leaving me?”

“No.  I just thought you’d like to see more of Central Park.”

Allison looked around.
“There’s more than this?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Allison chuckled and shook her head. “Of course I am.”

 

 

Across the vast green openness of Central Park, Allison spotted a couple holding hands and feeding breadcrumbs to the ducks.  She had to do a double take, but on her second perusal, she realized it was two women.

It wasn’t the first openly gay couple she’d ever seen – her college town was pretty liberal – far more than the town and household in which she’d grown up.  As she observed the two women who were obviously together, she couldn’t identify the emotion she was currently experiencing.  Discomfort? No. She didn’t think of herself as bigoted.  Envy? She quickly dismissed the idea. That was ludicrous.

Reagan noticed that Allison appeared distracted.  She followed the trajectory o
f her stare and it landed on the women holding hands.  “They make a cute couple,” she observed with some hesitation.  “It’s nice seeing people being so open and comfortable. It’s one of the things I love about living in a big city.”

“Uh huh.”

Reagan’s phone buzzed in her purse.  She cursed under her breath and dug around before producing the phone.  She glanced once at Allison guiltily.

BOOK: Second Chances
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