In the Wake of Wanting (35 page)

“That’s because we didn’t plan enough special things to do!” she says. “We should travel more or go see more of our friends or things while I’m in town.”

“We shouldn’t have to have constant distractions from one another when you’re here! This is what I’m talking about!” I shout. “We should be able to enjoy simply being in a quiet room together at the same time. That’s never happened. And it’s a thing, Zaina. It’s a thing that happens!”

“What, because it happens with you and Coley?” she asks sarcastically.

“Yeah, it does, and it happens with all the other successful couples I know. We’ve been broken for a long time. We were great high school sweethearts, Zaina, but I don’t think we were meant for anything beyond that.”

“You don’t think.
You
don’t think.
You don’t think!
Well I think otherwise! I think you’re wrong!” she screams as she trudges through the mess she’s made toward the bedrooms.

“Zaina, not on the carpet!” I plead behind her. Of course she doesn’t care. She walks into my bedroom, looks around, and then comes back to the edge of the kitchen.

“Where are my things?”

I swallow hard. “On your side of the bed.”

“Just to be clear. She never slept in this bed, right?”

“No, Zaina.” I don’t bother to hide my annoyance with her petty question.

“Good, because I’m not sleeping where that
skank
slept,” she says definitively as she throws both of her suitcases on my bed and begins to unpack them.

“She slept in this
apartment
. Would you like me to take you home?” I ask sarcastically.

“Are you already, like, dating her?” she asks as she starts placing her things–
all
her things–into
my
bureau drawers. I walk toward the rooms, kicking off my shoes before I step on the carpet even though it’s already stained with soup.

“No. Again, I haven’t cheated on you,” I remind her, “and what do you think you’re doing?”

“Making myself at
home
.”

“You’re only staying the night,” I tell her softly with a sigh, putting my hand on top of hers as she tucks more undergarments next to my socks. “You can’t stay any longer than that. I’m sorry.”

She breaks down again, putting her arms around me and crying into my chest like she did at the airport. “I wanted a chance to try,
Tria
. A chance to enjoy being in the same room together.”

“You had four years, Zai, and now I’m in love with Coley. I tried telling myself not to fall for her so many times over the past few weeks. If I couldn’t stop myself, there’s no way you can change the way I feel about her. I want the chance to be with her.”

She pushes me away from her. “Get out.”

“It’s my room.”

“Get out!”

“Fine.” I walk back toward the kitchen, jumping when I hear my door slam behind me.
Close the door all you want, Zai; there’s no lock
. After removing my socks and rolling up my jeans, I survey the damage and start cleaning up. If Jenny hadn’t been sick this weekend, I’d definitely call her to tackle this–I’d offer her a ridiculous amount of money. I don’t even like to do
light
cleaning. This is a disaster, and I don’t even own a mop.
I wish I’d never ordered mulligatawny
.

Ten minutes later, I’m stripped down to my briefs and undershirt to try to save the rest of my clothes. After rinsing out one of the cloths and seeing the tint of the yellow spices linger, I started to worry that the food would leave stains in my favorite jeans. I’d texted my sister, and she told me to soak them in my washing machine, so I did so immediately.

Five minutes after that, my phone rings.
Max
. It’s not a coincidence, I’m sure.

Still in the midst of cleaning, I look toward the bedroom before hitting the answer button.

“Hey, Max.”

“You dumped Zany!?”

“We broke up… yeah.”

“You were supposed to marry her!”

“Says who?”

“It was the plan! It was always the plan!”

“It was never
my
plan… that’s why I never proposed.”

“So your idea
yesterday
was to break up with her today,” he says, reaching a moment of clarity. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”

“Because, I don’t know, Max, I thought
she
should be the first to know.”

“And it was for this other girl, too.”

“No,” I tell him. “That may be what Zaina’s telling you, but this has been a long time coming, Max. Things just haven’t been the same with us for a while. Coley may be the impetus that made me stop delaying the inevitable, but it was coming. And you’ll really like her.”

“Doubtful, Trey. Zaina’s one of my best friends. You’re the other one. How are things ever going to be normal around us?” he asks.

“We survived the breakup between you and Callen, didn’t we? We’ll all survive this one. Plus, you and I are as good as brothers, so you’re stuck with me. We’re family.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed at you.”

“That’s true, Max. But I know you’ll eventually get over it,” I tell him. “When you come home for spring break, I want you to meet her. I want you to give her a chance.”

“Maybe Zaina and I will want to go somewhere,” he says, which sounds more like a threat.

“Well,” I concede, “the next time you’re home, then. If Zaina needs you, then be there for her. I won’t discourage that. I still care about her, Max. You can’t just switch that off–you know that from experience.”

“I don’t care about him anymore.”

“I know, Max,” I say, but only to appease him because I know he does. He tells his brothers that he does, and Jon tells me.

“Can’t you just let Zaina stay with you this week to try to work things out?” he asks me.

“Oh, she put you up to this, huh? No, Max. That’s not an option. I’ve got school, and it wouldn’t work anyway.”

“She’s going to try tonight.”

“Try to what?”

“To work things out.”

“How?”

“You know… appeal to your natural instincts.”

“Oh, great,” I say. “Maybe
I’ll
go stay with her parents. I’ve turned her down before. Why does she think tonight would be any less difficult?”

“She’s going to make it very hard for you to say no.”

“Shit,” I say. “Max, I have a kitchen floor full of mulligatawny to finish cleaning, so I need to go. Thanks, as always, for the heads-up.” I guess, if nothing else, I’m grateful he’s loyal to both of us.

“Don’t hurt her any more than you already have,” he warns.

“I’ll try not to.” I set my phone on top of the island to finish hand scrubbing the floor and cabinets, knowing that I’m inevitably going to miss spots that Jenny will find next weekend. After I make that realization, I quit being meticulous, stopping entirely when I don’t see anything more to clean without looking too hard for it.

I expected Zaina to come out of the bedroom, but she didn’t. Instead, I heard the bathwater running. It’s a good idea for her to relax. It’s been a long day of travel for her, followed by an emotionally exhausting night. Maybe she’ll just go to sleep.

After getting all of my books together for class tomorrow morning, I go into the guest bathroom and open up a new toothbrush that I’d purchased in case someone ever stayed over and needed one. After brushing my teeth and washing my face with the hand soap on the counter, I climb into the bed Coley had been sleeping in last week. I’m grateful that Jenny didn’t come today, because there’s still a vestige of the scent of her piña-colada shampoo on the pillow. I’d hoped there would be some sign of her here once I realized I’d be sleeping in this room. It only gets me more excited about the prospects of sharing a room with Coley, the actual woman, and not just the remnants of her that she left behind.

I set my phone in the charger and remember her voicemail. Looking at the closed door to the bedroom, I tap the key to play it and then the speaker button after making sure the volume isn’t too loud.

“We’ve been skating down a slippery slope,” her engaging voice articulates rhythmically, “avoiding words and hands and eyes and lips.” She pauses, and I sense it’s deliberate coming at the end of a stanza of her poem. I hear her intake of breath before she continues. “But I’ve never been so high on hope… of the chance of a relationship.” She clears her throat. “I hope you feel what I do, Trey. I also hope it’s tomorrow when you listen to this. You said you’d tell me on Monday if it was okay for me to have hope. I’ve decided I can’t wait for your consent. I can’t help it if I feel hope, just like I can’t help it if I feel love for something… or someone.”

I pause her message and laugh to myself, having had this exact conversation with Zaina earlier, and only then come to the stark realization that she just said she loved me
. Was she referring to me? Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions. She only implied it. And she really didn’t even do that. She was just comparing her feeling of hope to a feeling of love
.

But everything I feel for her has
felt
reciprocated. Every look seems to be mirrored in her eyes. Things I’ve wanted to say to her have been surreptitiously said or implied in one way or another. I know for a fact she likes me. That she’s attracted to me. She
could
love me.

She
should
love me. Once again, I smile at the thought of her. I look back at the phone and check the time. It’s not Monday yet, but midnight is approaching. I press play and listen to her voice again. “I don’t expect a call. I know you’re busy, and I know this is her night. I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Just give me a sign when I see you. I hope you’re okay. I know it wasn’t easy. I hope you can sleep. Good night, boss.”

chapter seventeen

Outside of the classroom, I catch my breath and wipe my forehead on my sleeve, trying to hide the evidence that I ran all the way from my apartment to
The Wit
offices. My watch shows that I’m still seven minutes late. I take a few more gulps of water, pray that I don’t smell offensive, and go inside.

I mouth an apology to Professor Aslon, squeezing into my row behind Coley and sitting down quietly next to her, trying not to interrupt our advisor’s morning talk. I get out my notebook and pen, as well as the spare notebook I’d stopped by Livvy’s to pick up. It’s the whole reason I’m late. Keeping my eyes attuned to the front of the class, I slide the small, red Moleskine to my left until I feel Coley take control, pulling it toward her. I feel like I’m in middle school, passing secret notes, the risk level high of getting caught since we’re on the front row.

Aslon doesn’t see anything, though. Slowly, I look over at Coley and smile, hoping she appreciates the gift. Hoping she relates it to her poem. She wanted a sign. I tried to be creative with it. She had related our flirtations to a tango. Late last night–no, it was early this morning–I had found an all-night office supply store and picked up the notebook and a white paint marker. Knowing my penmanship was crap, I took it to Livvy’s and left it with her concierge. Before I even left her building, I’d sent her a text, asking her to do me this one
incredibly important favor
–before 10 this morning.

My sister came through for me. In beautiful hand-lettering, she wrote “Let’s Dance.”

From Coley’s grin, it’s obvious she gets the reference. Inside, on the first lined page, I’ve invited her out on a date this Friday. Saturday would have been better. Neither of us would have been tired from school, but I couldn’t wait until then.

“Trey?”

“Yes?” I’ve heard my instructor speaking since I walked in the door; I’ve not comprehended a single syllable.

“We will be running the story today online. It will publish at noon.”

I glance around the room, not even knowing if any of them are aware that Asher was arrested, that Pryana was raped, that Coley and I had even been working on a story about sexual assault at Columbia.

“Would you like to come talk to everyone about the article?”

I lift my brows, feeling awkwardly put on the spot, but I stand up and walk to the podium. “Do they know anything?” I ask her quietly to the side, hoping to God that wasn’t what she was talking about for the past ten minutes.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

When I look back up, I realize Pryana is in her normal chair in the class. She gives me an encouraging nod before walking up to the front and taking my seat. She grasps Coley’s hand for support.

Just the facts
, I think to myself.