Dear Jon (20 page)

“Mom,” I whisper, still holding her, unable to stave off the urge to cry. “Thank you. I love you, too.” I tuck my head into her shoulder, not wanting everyone else entering the airport to see me… but I don’t want to stop crying yet. I don’t want to leave this moment. I’ve never had a moment like this with my mother.

“If you learn nothing else from me, do that.” She pushes me away just enough so she can kiss my cheek. “Follow your heart. Promise me.”

“I will.”

“So they won the bid?” Frederick asks as we both settle into the dorm room. We’d arrived only moments apart, and decided to relax for a minute before continuing the arduous task of unpacking.

“They did,” I tell him. “The firm left a message while I was on the plane home. They want me to call them first thing tomorrow to let them know my school schedule. It sounds like they want me to be pretty involved in this project.”

“That’s incredible!” my roommate says.

“They said those bench structures I’d designed were one of the things that helped sell it.”

“The natural ones?” he asked. He’d been at the desk next to me when I had the idea.

“Yeah.” I smile, proud of my contribution. I can’t wait to get back to the office now.

“Well, it looks like you won’t need help with job placement once you graduate.”

I shrug my shoulders. “I guess anything could happen between now and then. That’s a long way off.”

“That’ll look killer on a resume, though. This bid process has been pretty high-profile, from what I hear. My mom tracked its progress, since she knew you worked on it.”

“Your mom’s awesome,” I tell him with a laugh.

“Speaking of that…” He gets up to get something out of his duffel bag. “Mom made them just for you.” I open the tin, seeing a mound of peanut butter cookies. When Frederick brought them back from a weekend visit last year, I told him they were the best cookies I’d ever had.

“Oh, man, no way.” I offer one to him before taking one for myself. “When you call her next, let me thank her.”

“Sure thing.” He starts to open boxes, starting with a large, flat one. I know what it is. “Can we hang it?” he asks after revealing the Richard Meyer drawing.

“Yeah. Same place?” I ask, getting up to grab my small tool kit for a hammer and a nail. We center it on the wall between our desks, so we can both look at it and be inspired by the brilliance of it.

“How are things?” Fred asks.

“Same as last time,” I explain. “She kept sending letters.”

“You never wrote her back?” I shake my head. “You’re through?”

I don’t really know how to answer him. “We’re… I don’t know. I’m sure she’s rightfully angry with me now.”

“Are you mad at her?”

“No,” I admit. “I get it. I still wish she’d never kissed him, but I believe with all my heart there were no feelings shared between them. I’d like to hear it from
him
,” I tell him, “but I know Livvy doesn’t like him like that.

“The last few letters seemed like she was losing hope… which, in a way, I kind of want to start at zero with her. I think we both need to go back to being friends and learning about each other. Our feelings were intense when we were together–always. I want to know if they were real. I want to know if we’d still choose one another after everything that’s happened.”

“I can understand that. So what are you going to do now that you’re home?”

“I guess I hope to run into her on campus someday. I want it to be casual and light. I know long conversations will have to follow, but I don’t want getting back together to be a chore. It shouldn’t be an assemblage of altercations. We should want to be together, not feel like we
have
to be.” I haven’t really been able to figure out how I wanted things to go in such a succinct thought, but that seems pretty perfect. “I guess she’ll be moving into her dorm next week. Then classes will start a week later, and we’ll just see where things go from there.”

“You’re gonna be so busy with school and work now… maybe this is a good thing, putting the relationship on the back burner for a bit.”

“Maybe so,” I agree. I hadn’t even had time to think about that yet since landing. How would I fit her in, with everything else? We’d have to meet up on campus between classes. Have lunch together. There probably wouldn’t be more date nights than what we’re used to. I know it’s not what she’d always wanted for us, but it may be necessary.

As I put my clothes away in the single dresser we’re allotted, I think about that conversation. If she couldn’t accept it, then maybe I’m not what she’s looking for. I can’t put my dreams on hold for her. She would have to understand that.

After all my socks are organized in the top drawer, I shut it and glance up in the mirror. If I close my eyes, I can still see her face looking back at me. I’m still ashamed about how things happened that day in my dorm, but I still can’t regret any moment I was with her.

“Can I come in?” a woman says from the door. It’s Fred’s girlfriend.

“You remember Jon?” he asks her.

“Good to see you,” I tell her, smiling, just as my phone vibrates in my pocket. She reaches to me to shake her hand, and eventually hugs me awkwardly. “Are you excited to start at Columbia?”

“I can’t wait,” she says. “But I’m secretly hoping you’ll fall madly in love with my roommate so we can switch dorm rooms,” she teases.

“What’s she like?” I ask, playing along.

“I haven’t met her yet in person, but we did a few video calls over the summer. She seems pretty meek. She never had an opinion about anything.”

“I think that would drive Jon nuts,” Fred says.

“You like a girl with an opinion?”

“I like a girl with a little spirit,” I say. “And I like her to know her own wants, and be able to tell me. I don’t want to dominate a relationship. It should be a partnership.” Just like Livvy’s letter described our relationship. We’re partners. Or
were
.

“Well, hopefully we’ll both grow to love her because I intend to spend a lot of time over here, and she may get lonely.”

“Oh, really?” I ask, directing the question to my roommate.

“We
are
looking forward to being together here,” he says sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you just get a co-ed room then? I would have been okay with that.”

“Our parents wouldn’t go for that. No living together before marriage.”

“Your parents, huh?” Even if my parents had been overly loving and attentive all my life, I still don’t think I’d consider their opinions of how to live my life at nineteen. “You’re adults,” I whisper to them both.

“It’s different, Jon,” Fred says. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Right, right. Wait,” I say, suddenly feeling like the third wheel, “is that why you’re here?”

“My roommate could show up any minute,” she says, “and that would be an awkward way to meet.”

I look at my watch. “I could go for a run,” I tell them both.

“Maybe an hour?”

“I may die of heatstroke, but yeah, okay. An hour.”

“Knock before you come in.”

Annoyed, I nod and go into the bathroom to change into some running shorts. I don’t even bother putting a shirt on. It’s way too hot outside for that.

“Jesus,” Fred says when I come back out into the room. “Look away,” he tells his girlfriend with a laugh, but she stares at my chest, her eyes widened. “Manual labor did that?”

“It did,” I tell him with a sly smile.

“I’ve got work to do,” he says quietly as I set my glasses aside and grab my key, phone and a few dollars before leaving them alone. Once I make it the courtyard, I check the time on the display.

Olivia: 1 voicemail

I guess she’s figured out that I’m back. She never tried to call after the first few days I was in Utah. I listen to the message. “It’s Livvy.” Oh, God, her voice. It’s shaky and cautious. “I’m at the loft. I’ll be here until ele–” The message is cut off. I listen to it once more to make sure, and to hear her again.

I know exactly where I’ll be running today. I shove my things into my pocket, making one stop along the way at a local market to get two large bottles of water. I drink one of them in its entirety before continuing.

The route through Central Park is a smart one, my body needing the shade of the trees. It is insufferably hot here today, and I don’t think I’ve sweat this bad in all of my life. It burns my eyes, and wish I’d brought a towel with me. I laugh, thinking about my brother and
The Hitchhiker’s Guide
. Douglas Adams was so right.

If not a towel, though, a shirt would have been wise. I’d use it to blot my forehead and block my skin from the sun. I can feel the burn setting in as I run.

Seeing the Guggenheim beyond the trees is encouraging. The loft is on the next block south. She’s right there. I keep running toward her, my pace quickening even though I can feel the energy draining with each step and each drop of sweat.

I stop running when I see her building directly across the street. Leaning against a tree, I drink my second bottle of water and look up to the top floor. Squinting, I notice one of the windows is cracked open. If she looked down, she’d be able to see me. I wonder if she’d even recognize me.

I know one way she would. I find a trashcan and throw the bottle away before returning to the tree. I turn around, putting my hands on the thick trunk and stretching my legs. She would know my tattoo. After giving equal time to each leg, and plenty of time for her to see me if she looked outside, I turn back around and look back up at her apartment.

I rest for a few more minutes, but never catch a glimpse of her. I have no idea what I would have done if I had, though. Lord knows what she would do if she saw me anyway, looking like this. I imagine I don’t smell very great, either.

My phone vibrates in my pocket again. Fred is telling me I can come back.

Only a half hour?
Okay.

I run back the way I came, stopping at a drug store to get a few more bottles of water. We haven’t even been to the store yet, so there’s nothing at the dorm to quench my thirst. I expect people to back off after seeing me, but they don’t. Men look away, sure, but women stare.

Hmmm… that’s new.

Most of the windows in my dorm building are opened, as are the doors when I get back.

“No electricity,” the RA says on the steps.

“Huh?” I’m very much in need of some air conditioning.

“We’re having rolling blackouts,” he says. “Welcome back, right?” he says with a shrug.

“No joke. How long do they last?”

“Usually just a couple of hours. But it won’t stop the cookout,” he says. “We’re going to start things early, in just a few minutes. Lots of cold drinks. Looks like you could use one.”

“And a shower,” I agree with him.

“It’ll be pointless,” he says. I’m sure he’s right. I’d lived through plenty of summers in my mother’s apartment where the AC unit stopped working and we couldn’t afford to get it fixed. I usually retreated to the library until it closed, but there were many nights where it was so uncomfortable we simply couldn’t sleep.

I go to the second floor and shower anyway, even though the windowless bathroom is already sweltering. I can see why Fred and his girlfriend had cut their activities short–or maybe her dorm had electricity and she decided getting caught was still a better option than our single room, two-bed
sauna
.

I’m still sweating when I get out, even though it was a cold shower. I find another pair of shorts and a sleeveless tank. I can’t imagine wearing anything more than that, and I don’t care what the rest of my classmates think. I bet I won’t be the only one dressed in the equivalent of underwear.

And I’m not. When I get outside, girls are in bikini tops and guys are in swim trunks, lounging on the ground or canvas folding chairs. Campus organizers are quickly setting up drink and food stations while students limit their activity in the heat. Most of the coveted shaded areas are taken, but I see Shu, one of my original roommates, beneath a tree. He waves me over.

Standing up, we exchange a casual handshake before he invites me to sit amongst his group. He’s got a cooler, and reaches inside to get me some water.

“Thanks, man,” I say. “This is insane.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “They say there’s power in Carman Hall, but that’s it. Since it’s a first-year only building, no one’s moved in yet, so they’re allowing people in the lobby. Nowhere else. There’s talk they may let some people sleep there if the power doesn’t come back on.”

“Stampede!” I exclaim, imagining how all of the students around me would act in that situation. Shu and his friends laugh. He introduces me to them. I recognize a few from classes last year.

Fred joins us after a few minutes.

“See what living in sin gets you?” I tease him. “
Hell
. You’ve brought
hell
upon us all.”

As the sun begins to set, they start serving food. Having only eaten a cookie all afternoon, I’m famished, and fill my plate to reflect that. We all eat together, discussing last year and plans for this year. It’s nice, meeting new people and catching up with old friends. At some point, one of Shu’s friends brings some beer, and people start secretly filling red cups with it. I take one, surprised that it actually tastes decent. I’m still so thirsty, though, I’d probably drink anything.

Over the next few hours, the beer starts to taste better and better. Four cups later, I’m incredibly relaxed and could probably sleep through the night even without power or the AC unit. I could probably sleep right
here
.

“So what happened at the end of last year?” Shu asks, the alcohol making everyone less inhibited with questions.

“What do you mean?” I ask for clarification, even though I don’t need it.

“With Livvy. And that guy.”

“You heard about that?” I say sarcastically. Everyone is listening intently. I take it that–even though I’ve only met some of these people for the first time tonight–they all somehow know I used to date Livvy Holland.

“
Kissing Cousins
. It was news for days,” a girl says.

“He’s her cousin’s cousin by marriage,” I state evenly, then take a deep breath. “It didn’t matter who he was, though. She kissed another guy, and I left.”

“You were still dating, though?” Shu asks.

“Yeah, we were.” I feel the pain and resentment again. I know these feelings are just amplified by the alcohol in my system, and I have no doubt it’s made worse by dehydration. While I know this, logically, I can’t stop myself from feeling things again.