Undeclared (30 page)

“I’m guessing I’m a hometown girl.” I tugged at my hand and he finally let it go.

“Yeah and you hometown girls have a lot of ideas about what your men should do. Uptight chick like you with money written all over her probably thinks she’s too good for this place. Maybe you should let go now and hook up with your own kind.”

Right, like I was going to take lessons from a guy whose neck had been swallowed by his shoulders.

“Leave her alone, Paulie,” Noah demanded. He had returned from the locker room. “Let’s go,” he directed to me.

“Bo?” I asked.

“He’s got his own ride,” Noah ushered me to his truck. His hair was wet from the shower and laid flat against his head, like a silky brown cap.

“Bo mentioned you had a photo shoot? What’s that all about?” I asked when we got into the car.

“I’ve been offered an undercard fight on Halloween,” Noah said.

“My God, is that why you were all at the apartment the other night?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I came up to tell you the news. Lana was making spaghetti, and we just dumbly invited a bunch of people over.”

“God, I feel like an idiot. I ruined your big news.”

“Nah, it’s all good, Grace,” He turned his head slightly, and I could see a smirk on his face. “The evening ended just right.”

“What happens now?” I asked, slapping him lightly on the arm.

“It would be great if you could just get into the Octagon and fight. But there is a ton of BS involved. The publicity you’re required to do. The constant monitoring of your diet. The working out constantly. They make me wear my cowboy boots to public appearances,” Noah’s voice started to take on a whiny quality.

I stifled a laugh at his side.

“I can feel you laughing,” Noah accused me.

“I’m sorry,” I giggled a bit. “Cowboy boots? I’ve never seen you wear those!”

“Yeaaahhh,” he drawled. “And they want me to talk with a twang and use loooong vowels.”

This time I couldn’t contain my laughter.

“Being successful in the UFC isn’t just about being the best fighter; it’s about being a personality. Making people want to either cheer for you or against you,” Noah complained.

“How do you get chosen for the fight?” I asked.

“Money,” Noah said flatly. “It’s all about how much money I can generate. I’ve got a perfect record, but there are a lot of low level guys with perfect records. We all earned them against gym chum.”

“Gym chum?”

“Yeah, for smaller gyms, they drag in guys off the street, promise them money fights, and then throw them up against more experienced fighters so that those fighters can build their records.”

“You aren’t making this sound very savory.”

Noah shrugged. “Anything where there is a lot of money contains unsavory things.”

***

Sleep came easily each night with Noah’s attentiveness, but each day I awoke with a sense of dread. Noah needed to spend more and more time training. And I felt like I was just marking time. Mike asked me to cover for a classmate who was struggling with midterms and I said yes. I had nothing better to do. I hadn’t picked up my camera since the debacle with Dr. Rossum, and other than the one time at the gym when Bo and Noah were fighting, I hadn’t had the urge.

Ironically, it wasn’t the money that killed off my hobby. Getting paid for it was exciting. Instead, it was knowing that what I was doing was fake, a trick, no more worth gracing the cover of a magazine than a bowl of fruit. I wished I had the nerve to tell Dr. Rossum how much State was paying me, but money probably didn’t matter to him. Noah said that real criticism came in the form of dollars exchanged and if someone thought my work was worth paying for, then it didn’t matter what a million Smithsonian artists had to say. I wanted to believe that was true more than anything, but I was having trouble convincing myself, or at least of getting the courage to return to Dr. Rossum. One visit to the firing squad was enough for me.

“Have you thought about coming to Vegas with me?” Noah asked during one of the rare moments it seemed like we saw each other.

“I can’t,” I told him, twisting my face up in disappointment. “I thought I told you I was going to cover someone’s shift who was studying for midterms.”

“I thought you were going to turn down the trade?” Noah asked.

“I was, but this person was really desperate.”

“Why are you taking all these hours on at the library? It’s hard enough for us to see each other.”

“You’re so busy, and I’m just trying to keep myself occupied,” I explained.

“With Mike? I thought you said your insecurity wouldn’t manifest itself by making me jealous.” He wasn’t looking at me at all. Instead he just tapped his pen against the desk, fast and hard. I wondered if he would break the pen or gouge the desk first.

I wasn’t sure where the Mike accusation came from, and I wasn’t trying to make him jealous. The accusation did hit close to home. I complained incessantly about the ring girls to Lana who told me to go to Vegas already if I was so worried.

There were girls everywhere, and Noah was so fine with so much drive and potential. I knew that there were dozens of them on this campus alone waiting for him to tire of me. My indecision must have shown on my face because Noah threw down the pen and swore at me, which he rarely ever did.

“Goddammit Grace, you don’t need money from the work study. You can just sit at home.”

Sit at home and wait for him like I had for four years? I had waited for him, and only when he had decided it was time, did he come. Now he was telling me I could just wait some more until he had time for me? I felt a sudden and unexpected rush of anger toward him. “I just can’t sit around and wait for you to show up after you’re done with your activities.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not that girl,” I spit out. Maybe I was, but I didn’t want to be. I was tired of being Josh’s little sister, Lana’s cousin, and now Noah’s girlfriend. I had to start stepping out on my own, even if it meant just working at the library for more hours. Before, when my confidence was buttressed by my black metal case full of lenses and mirrors, maybe Noah’s absence wouldn’t have been so noticeable but the divide between us seemed greater now than ever.

“I’m doing all of this for you, you know.” He threw out his arm, gesturing into the air. I had no idea what he was talking about.

“How is your fighting for us?”

“It’s too low-class for you, is that it?”

“No!” I shook my head vehemently. I felt like we were talking two different languages. “I don’t fit with you, Noah. You know where you’re going and what you’re going to do. You’ve put actual plans in motion. I can’t even pick a major, and I dither over what classes to sign up for. My—” I couldn’t bring myself to say it, to give voice to my greatest failure. To admit that I was actually terrible at something I loved.

“You have plenty of time to experiment with what you want to do and decide later.”

“Don’t play father knows best here and tell me that because you’re four years older than me, you know what I’m feeling. You don’t. You’ve always had a plan. ”

“Grace, you’re killing me here. Don’t throw away this thing between us over some ridiculous idea of what you think I want. I want you,” he said flatly as if the conversation was over and done.

“Thanks for calling my concerns ridiculous.”

“Don’t do this, Grace.” He sounded disgusted.

“Or what? You’ll fuck some ring girl?”

He reared back like I slapped him. “Don’t curse.”

“Don’t curse? You curse all the time. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!” I screamed. Noah stood up.

“I’m not going to sleep with any ring girls. Calm down or just come with me. Then it isn’t even an issue.”

“Well, it isn’t an issue if we aren’t dating, is it?” I spat out. All my anxiety, frustration, and worry spilled out. I stomped over to the entry and threw open the door.

Noah picked up his bag and, with one motion, swept all his materials into the opening. He shouldered the backpack and stalked toward me. “Fine. If this is what you want.”

No, no, it really wasn’t, but what else could I say at this point without actually looking like a crazy person? I nodded, unable to speak, knowing that if I did open my mouth a million sorries would pour forth and I would be back to where I was before. In someone’s shadow.

“You’ll regret this,” he threatened. His face was dark like a thundercloud. I remained silent, and he stepped through the doorway. I waited half a heartbeat and closed the door with a slam. I didn’t hear his footsteps right away, and I thought about opening the door. But he took off a beat later, running down the steps.

I ran over to the living room window. At the corner of the street, I saw two coeds stop him. I shouldn’t worry about hurting his feelings. There would be any number of women ready to take my place. I felt like these past weeks had been borrowed time anyway. Like the magic clock had been broken and midnight was delayed. Only now the clock was fixed, and my time was being ticked off as the golden hour approached steadily. Inexorably.

***

The library was bursting with people during midterms, but everyone walked around like silent ghosts. Worry marked many faces, aging us past our years. I tossed Mike’s red ball around by myself and stared down at the library entrance from the balcony. I focused on the monitor’s desk purposely trying to blur the edges. People slowed down, moving like windup dolls, as I mentally took their photos. A girl with a bright red jacket walked in. She would’ve been a great subject.

My heart ached, missing Noah, missing my camera. He hadn’t called me or texted me. He didn’t show up around campus after class or even here at the library. Given that he had pursued me so hard in the beginning, his lack of effort now spoke volumes. We were done.

I began to dimly understand why my mother couldn’t face the world and hid behind a veil of prescription drugs. Being a zombie from too much Xanax was vastly preferable to feeling hollowed out by pain.

My text message alert sounded. I swung away from the balcony and rolled my chair to where my phone lay on the desk. Call me. Josh.

“Yes, Master Josh, what can I do for you, Master Josh?” I asked, dutifully calling him.

“Can you come up here for homecoming?”

“I can’t. I traded with someone, and I’m supposed to cover their shift on Saturday.”

“Trade again.” He sounded impatient. “Get your student supervisor to cover. Tell him you have a family emergency.”

“Is Mom okay?” I asked, instant concern making my voice a little screechy.

“It’s with me, you dumbass.”

“Are you okay?”

“Better than. Guess what?” He continued without giving me a chance to guess. “The Athletic Director was down here the other day and saw your photo.”

“What photo?” I asked dumbly.

“The one you took of me looking awesome. What other photo would I be calling you about?”

“I already got paid for that one.” Maybe I wasn’t art major material or good enough for Dr. Rossum, but someone liked my stuff enough to pay me a substantial sum of money.

“Right, so anyway, the AD loves the photo and wants you to do one for every sport on campus. They’re gonna pay you to do it, of course. I’m negotiating your fee,” Josh said, sounding so proud of himself, almost as proud as when he talked about his athletic accomplishments.

“Seriously?” I was stunned.

“For reals, baby sis.”

“Why do I have to come up for homecoming?”

“They want you to take pictures of homecoming too. The parade and then the game. Whadda think?”

“I’ll get someone to cover.” I hung up on the sound of Josh’s laughter. Mike had no problem covering for me when I explained my situation.

***

Homecoming was more fun than I had anticipated. It was good to get away from Central. Noah had left for Vegas without a word. Lana came with to serve as my assistant. I was grateful for her help, as this time I really did need assistance, having to keep track of where I was supposed to be and when. I didn’t get to see much of the game except through the camera lens. This time, I stayed up in the press box for the entire game. Lana sat and charmed half the sports writers.

By the time we landed at Josh’s apartment after the game had ended, I was mentally and physically wiped, but I hadn’t forgotten that Noah was fighting that night in Vegas.

Josh pulled me aside after pizzas had arrived.

“Noah’s fourth on the card so he’ll probably fight around 8 pm or so. I’ve bought the fight. But he’s a huge underdog and he’s likely to get crushed, so maybe you want to miss it anyway?”

“No, really?” Dismay and fear chased down my spine.

“Yep, according to what I’ve read on the internet, the original challenger hurt himself. So Noah is filling in. It’s not a title match or anything, but it’s a fairly big deal because the opponent is undefeated, and in order to make the fight worth the pay-per-view money, they had to find another undefeated middleweight.”

I felt sick to my stomach and refused all offerings of food. Noah had never once expressed any concern about his fight, but then I never gave him the chance. The crowd in Josh’s apartment had blossomed. It was homecoming after all. I claimed a place in front of the TV and refused to move.

The first match lasted all three rounds. Both fighters were bloodied and exhausted. Their blows were more like grabs, and they spent the last four minutes grappling on the mat. The blood from cuts on their faces was smeared on the floor.

Noah had once told me that the grappling portion could look very provocative, and he was right. The one opponent was lying on top of the other in some weird 69 position. As the announcers narrated the events, the terms they used had more sexual innuendo than Cosmo’s front cover.

None of the men in the crowd were turned off by this. Apparently sweaty man on sweaty man in a sexual position was exciting if their intent was to hurt each other. After the fight was over, a decision was made, anointing the red shorts guy as the winner. I had no idea how they arrived at that decision.

The two looked completely exhausted with bruises and cuts all over their face and arms and chest. One’s guy nose looked broken and cotton had been stuffed up it to stem the flow of blood. I felt sick that this was what Noah would look like at the end of his match. After the commercial break, the announcers started talking about Noah’s fight.