By a Thread (7 page)

She was a step behind Patrick as they ran across the bridge from Arlington Cemetery into DC and past the Lincoln Memorial. Today they were running ten miles. She’d been working up to such a distance for a while. After Jamie died, she had given up running, along with everything else. It was something she loved; they used to run together every day.

She pushed her sunglasses up her nose and adjusted her ear bud. She was proud that she was keeping pace with Patrick. They ran to the Washington Monument and then turned around. As they started the last mile of their run, Stella began feeling a little stronger than when she started. It was a long run and it hurt in the beginning, but it seemed she hit her stride. Patrick turned and smiled at her as she trailed him for the last half mile.

As he motioned for her to pick it up, he tripped and fell. When Stella bent over to give him a hand she felt something warm sliding over her bare shoulder and down her right arm. “Fucking hell!” She examined her arm and the trail of bird shit now streaking it. Stella bent forward, laughing so hard she couldn’t help Patrick to his feet. She sat down and gave in to the laughter. When she looked up Patrick was looking at her with alarm. “What?” she said, breathless from her run and from the laughter.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before,” Patrick said gently.

“Really, never?” Stella was stunned. She’d known Patrick since August and he’d never heard her laugh.

“Nope.” Patrick got up, but leaned over to touch his toes in a stretch. He grabbed a quad and stretched it. “I like it. Your laugh is ridiculous.”

“Jamie used to say that all the time, too. qct My laugh was so funny it made him laugh.” Stella looked at the bird shit sliding down her arm. Flicking her arm, she tried to shake some of the shit off.

“I may’ve heard a polite fake laugh at some point, but that was a real laugh. I like it. You need to laugh more, obviously.”

“There really hasn’t been too much for me to laugh about this past year.” She got up and started walking back to Patrick’s car.

Patrick nudged her shoulder. “You know, they say that a bird shitting on you is good luck.”

Laughter burst out of Stella once again, which made Patrick laugh too. “They only say that so you won’t feel that bad about a bird shitting on you. There’s really nothing lucky about getting shit on... period.”

Stella turned her old red Honda Accord onto GW Parkway and thought of two things simultaneously. First, Jamie had been gone for a year. Second, she hadn’t talked to her dad in almost as long. She reached for her phone and took a deep breath. Stella punched her dad’s number and waited.

“Stella?” Her eyes pricked with tears just hearing his voice. “Are you alright?”

“Hey, Dad,” she barely whispered.

“Wow, it’s good to hear your voice, baby girl.”

“I’m sorry it’s been so long, I just couldn’t...”

“Oh Stella, it’s okay. I’m just glad to hear your voice.”

The phone was silent for a couple of beats. “It’s my first day of law school today.”

“I know.”

“How?” Stella was taken aback that her dad had any information about what she was doing.

“Patrick has kept your mother and me informed about your life since you haven’t been able to.”

“Oh really?” It took a minute for Stella to go from pissed to understanding Patrick’s motive and let the irritation pass over her. “Well, I just thought you might want to know.” She was about to hang up.

“Mom and I have been so worried...” Her dad’s voice broke.

“Hey, have you seen the show about the rednecks in Georgia where the little girl is in pageants or something?” Stella changed the subject to something neutral.

Her dad laughed and she realized how much she had missed him over the last year. “Yes, your mom and I were watching the other day.”

They talked about everything from Sugar Bear to the problems with the two-party political system. She told him about her job and all the books she had been reading. He told her about all the things going on with him and with her mom. Life in their world was the same as it had been last year. Her life was drastically different. That was the biggest lesson she learned this year; it doesn’t matter if you are falling apart, shit keeps moving. The world didn’t stop because she did.

After they hung up, with a promise to talk again soon, she closed her eyes while stopped in traffic. She smiled, feeling a little more settled than she had in quite some time. This next chapter in her life was a complete unknown, but she was moving forward. It was progress.

Stella pulled into the parking lot assigned to first-year law students. It was on the main campus, instead of the law school campus. Everything about law school so far had been unpleasant. The application process, now the parking: it was like they were hazing first-year students. In the future, she would either have to catch the bus to the law school or walk the mile from the lot to school. Checking her watch, she realized she better just park and start walking. After a brisk fifteen-minute walk, she made it to American University, Washington College of Law. Smiling when she saw the Starbucks across the street, she bet the law students kept the owner of that coffee shop loaded.

As she walked through the law school doors, sweat started dripping down her back. Having worn layered tank tops, she shed one in the bathroom and used it to wipe the sweat from her face and back. She took the elevator to the third floor for her first class. She walked in and surveyed the room. There were a few other students there already, and she took a seat in the back row.

Pulling out her laptop and her Property book, she released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. This was it. She was starting over. A girl with caramel-colored hair opened the door and look around. She made her way to a seat at the table next to Stella and pulled out her things. The class was starting to fill up.

“Hi. I’m Millie. I mean it’s really Camille Rodriguez, but I go by Millie.” She smiled at Stella and held out her hand. Stella shook it. “Where are you from? I’m from Arizona, but I moved up here this summer. I love DC. How about you? Have you been to...” Stella tuned out at this point. The girl was talking a mile a minute, not even waiting for a response to the questions she asked. The class was almost full. She’d be with these people for the entire year. For the first year, the students were put into sections and would attend all classes as a group with the same students. “... so, what’s your name?”

“Stella,” she replied shortly.

“I like it.” Millie reached out and touched the back of Stella’s shoulder, “Killer tattoo. Did you get that here?”

“Yep, Needles and Skin parlor in Georgetown. I highly recommend Richard.”

“It’s kinda gross though,” Millie said, examining her shoulder more closely.

“Yeah, it kinda is.” Stella smiled. She liked Millie, right then. She had gotten all manner of reactions to her tattoo, but Millie’s was her favorite.

Millie’s skin was immaculate; she wore very little makeup, if any. She was striking in a very natural way, and was maybe twenty-two. Her hair reached to the middle of her back. Millie flipped her Property book open to the first case they were to read, according to the class syllabus, and looked at Stella. “You’re weird. I like you,” she said.

Before Stella could respond, their professor came in and immediately began an hour-long lecture that confused every student in the class. Stella wasn’t sure the professor had stopped lecturing long enough to take a breath, and after class her brain hurt. She was definitely heading to Starbucks. She packed up her things.

“I’m hitting up Starbucks, you want to go?” Millie asked, standing there waiting for Stella.

“Sure, I was headed there anyway.”

“Good.” Millie began telling Stella all the gossip she’d heard about their Civil Practice professor and how he was famous in the legal community.

They ordered coffee and sat at a small table outside. “So, Stella, do you live around here?”

“No, I live in Old Town.” Stella had her sunglasses on and was taking in the sight of all the law students.

“Where’s that?”

“Alexandria.”

“Why do you live out there?”

“I live with two guys I know.” Stella answered shortly.

“Oh, are they students too?” Millie took a sip of her coffee and spit it out violently. “Oh my ...shit, I think I burned my tongue?”

Stella burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny, I think I have, like, third-degree burns on my tongue. I’ll never enjoy wine or chocolate again.”

“No, it’s not that. I say ‘oh my shit’ all the time and my friends make fun of me.” Stella blew her bangs out of her face.

“Well, I wasn’t really trying to phrase it that way, but I think it works...” Millie stuck her tongue out trying to look at it and show it to Stella at the same time. “Is it burned?”

“Obviously,” Stella answered with another laugh.

“So you live with two guys, how’s that?”

“It’s fine. I’ve lived with them for a little over a year, so I guess it works.”

“We’ll have to go out sometime.”

“That’d be cool. Where do you live?”

“I live down Mass in Tenleytown.” Tenleytown was a neighborhood filled with law school students, mainly because it was so close to campus. It was mostly rental houses and condos, sort of an oasis in the city. The streets were tree-lined and it mirrored the suburbs.

“You live by yourself?” Stella pulled out an apple and bit into it.

“No, there’s no way I could afford that.”

“Me either. I know you aren’t supposed to work your first year, but that’s harsh.”

“Well, they say you have so much work for school, there’s no way you could handle both. There’s a happy hour for our section on Thursday, you in?” Millie looked at her cell phone.

“Not sure yet.” Stella didn’t want to plan on going to happy hour just yet. She still really only socialized with Billy and Patrick at Finnegan’s.

They finished their coffee and headed back across the street to their Civil Procedure class. When they sat in the back row together Stella leaned over and whispered, “By the way, my friends call me El.”

Stella pulled into the parking lot in time to see the bus driving away.
Fuck,
she thought
.
She was going to be sweaty and late again. After practically jogging to the law school, she rushed into Contracts class, skidding into another student. Stella’s bag fell to the floor and books scattered everywhere. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Stella kept picking up her stuff, not even responding.

“It’s Stella, right?”

She looked up, “Yeah.” She stood and quickly said, “I’m about to be late.”

“I know. We’re in the same section.” The guy smiled warmly at her, “I’m Davis.” He was blond and fair-skinned, with perfect features. His teeth were white and straight. His lips uncharacteristically red, she wondered if he was wearing lipstick.

“Hi.” Stella moved quickly through the door and into the classroom.

“Um, are you going to happy hour tonight?” he called out to her back.

Stella almost ignored the question entirely, but responded without turning around, “Don’t know.”

She smiled as she hopped up the stairs of the room to the back row where she and Millie sat. Breathing heavily, she sat down and opened her laptop.

“Hey, bitch. Davis looked like you kicked his kitten. What did you say?” Millie was typing while she talked.

“Nothing.” Stella was calming down now, since she’d made it to class before the professor. Tardiness was not a trait she appreciated in anyone, least of all herself.

“Well, you must’ve said something.” Millie stopped typing and looked at her, “Your social skills aren’t that great.”

“Agreed.” Stella pulled out her book and logged onto campus Wi-Fi.

“Well, what were ya’ll talking about?”

“Fuck, you’re relentless. I bumped into him and spilled my bag. He introduced himself and asked if I was going to happy hour,” Stella said without taking a breath. “Happy?”

“So you aren’t going?”

“I don’t know,” Stella said slowly.

“You don’t find him attractive?”

Their professor walked into the class. “No.” Stella shook her head, “Not my type.”

“You’re engaged, not dead, right?” Millie started typing again. “What is your type? I guess it’s not perfect looking,” Millie muttered sarcastically.

Stella was stuck; men were not even on her radar, and Millie still thought she was engaged. She was still wearing her ring, so it made sense. “Okay… So I’m not engaged anymore.” Stella whispered with her eyes glued forward on their professor, who was about to launch into a lecture.

“And the plot thickens,” Millie said before the professor began her lecture about the necessary elements of a contract.

Stella was on a couch at the bar with several people from her law school section. The idea of the first year section was helpful, she heard, because people could form study groups that lasted the entire year.

This sort of socializing was difficult for her now. She kept quiet and just observed the interaction between the other law students. She’d determined that law students, in general, were weird. Some were weird in a bad way, some in a good way, but the whole lot was peculiar.

Millie leaned over to Stella and pulled her up to her feet. “Let’s go dance.” Millie motioned to the dance floor.

“There’s no one dancing,” Stella said flatly.

“Perfect way to get the party started, don’t ya think?” Millie pulled Stella by the hand all the way to the dance floor and started dancing. Stella made her dance by herself for a while, but gave in after a few beats, and started dancing. Soon, several members of their section were dancing around them.

Stella kept perfect time with the beat of the music and danced with Millie or by herself. Looking around the dance floor, she saw most of the law students were standing around talking, not dancing. She took a break to get a beer. She motioned to Millie that she would get one for her as well. She sauntered over to the bar and ordered two beers. Her shirt was soaked with sweat, she was glad she had worn a black halter top. Someone leaned into the bar next to her and held his hand up at the bartender.

The guy turned to look at Stella, his eyes travelling to the tattoo on her back. “Damn, girl, is that a real tattoo?”

Stella grimaced. People asked her that all the time, it was a stupid question. “No, it’s fake,” she answered sarcastically. She recoiled when the guy touched her, rubbing his finger across her tattoo.

“Oh, sorry,” the guy said, pulling his hand from her back.

“You touch me again and I’ll break your fucking hand.” She smiled at him and took her drinks back to the dance floor.