“David wants us to live together,” I said.
That’s not going to happen.
Cubby’s words came to me easily now whenever I was in the closet. Like I’d realized before, the closet—its smell, its familiarity—was what let me into my subconscious. I didn’t even need Cubby here, although I usually still brought her in; she made me feel less alone.
“I have to leave here,” I said. “And living with David would be the best thing I could imagine.”
I’d never mean to hurt you.
“Hurt me?”
All I want is to protect you. If you can’t do it yourself.
You are myself, I thought. I shivered and reached up to unlock the door.
Don’t go, she said.
I was pretty sleepy. I let my arm fall back down.
There’s nothing wrong with admitting you’re weak, she said.
I had given into David, when I said I wouldn’t.
In here, she said, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
My head felt strange, heavy. If nothing mattered, then it wouldn’t be a problem for me to just lie down, take a little nap….
Chapter 29
FOR THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS, I divided my nonstudying free time between being with David and working on my room. Because painting edge-work around windows is so much more difficult than covering big areas of open wall, it took longer than I expected. But the meditative quality helped keep my mind off how much I missed Viv and Abby. And, in the end, the effort was worth it. With the paint, plants, shelves, and a new furniture arrangement, it was the nicest room I’d ever seen at Barcroft. I could tell how impressed David was when I showed him. “You did this?” he kept saying, eyes all lit up. He was still talking about it the next day as we sipped coffee at senior tea.
A change of expression on his face made me glance over my shoulder. Abby was headed in our direction.
“I think I’ll give you some space,” he said.
I brushed muffin crumbs off my lap and tossed my napkin in the trash.
“Hi,” I said as Abby stood in front of me. I scooched over on the small love seat. “Want to sit?”
She shook her head. Her nails were newly painted deep purple. I was suddenly conscious of my chipped and uneven ones. All the work I’d been doing wasn’t conducive to pretty fingernails.
“I want to make sure you know that you’re not coming home with me for Thanksgiving,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Oh? I hadn’t really been thinking about it.” I was surprised the lie made it past the grapefruit-size lump in my throat.
“Well, you need to make other plans.”
“Don’t you think, maybe, we’ll … we’ll be okay by then?” I folded my hands so my nails, which looked more disgusting by the minute, weren’t visible. “And, I mean, I always go with you. It’s our tradition, right? Remember last year, how funny your mom was with the turkey? Remember, you did that imitation of her during dinner?”
I dared to look up, and thought I glimpsed a bit of a softening in Abby’s face. She shrugged. “Yeah, but … just make other plans, okay?” She turned to walk away, the black-and-white wool skirt we’d bought together at Urban Outfitters swishing against the top of her boots.
“Abby,” I said. I didn’t know what I was going to follow it with. I just couldn’t stand for our interaction to be so brief. For it to end like that.
“What?” She turned back to me.
“You should come downstairs and see all the stuff I’ve done in my room,” I blurted.
“What stuff? Something to do with all the noise you’ve been making?”
I nodded. “Celeste moved across the hall, you know, so the room’s just mine until Kate gets back next semester. I painted, built some stuff. If you and Viv want to come down and hang out, we don’t have to worry about Celeste being there or anything.”
Abby shook her head. “I can’t be—”
She stumbled sideways with a jolt. Ponytail Guy, her crush from the beginning of the semester, had snuck up and hip checked her.
“Hey,” she said, regaining her footing. “Watch out.” I could tell by her smile she didn’t mean it. Something was going on with them, obviously, and I didn’t know anything about it.
“Did you get what Brighton was saying about that whole thing with peripeteia or whatever,” Ponytail Guy said. “The Aristotle stuff?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Why? You want me to explain it to you, dum-dum?”
“If you’ve got a minute in your busy schedule.”
“I might.” Abby cast a distracted glance in my direction.
“So, see you later?” I said.
“Yeah, later.” She nudged Ponytail Guy as they walked away. “You really don’t understand Aristotle?”
After dinner that night I spent a couple of hours cleaning and re-reorganizing so everything was just how I wanted it. (How could I have thought those Ball jars filled with pebbles and shells looked good on that shelf? Way too Martha Stewart.) Then I went upstairs for the first time since I’d told them about my meeting with the dean.
I knocked on Abby’s door.
“Go away, Viv!” she called.
Were the two of them in a fight now? “It’s me,” I said. No response. “I wanted to know if—”
The door cracked open and Abby slipped out, shutting it behind her. Her hair was all mussed up, her cheeks flushed pink.
“What do you want?” she said in a rough, low voice.
“Is someone in there?” I said. “Ponytail Guy?”
“Shhh!” she whispered. “Yes. Now what do you want?”
“Just for you to come see my room. But you can come down after he leaves, obviously. Or tomorrow. Sorry to interrupt!” I gave her a smile and started to head down the stairs. I’d taken a few steps when she spoke again.
“Don’t you get it?” she said. I stopped and looked back up at her. “You made your choice, Leena. All semester. You chose Celeste over us. And you screwed everything up. You can’t just come back now … like … I don’t know … like nothing happened.”
“You’re blowing this all out of proportion,” I said. “And it had nothing, nothing to do with choosing Celeste over you. Never.”
“That’s not what the facts say.” She rested her hands on her hips. “Why don’t you think about it from our perspective for once?”
“Abby, I know I screwed up. I feel terrible. But can’t we just have it out and be done with it? Get in a fight and make up?”
“Not as far as I’m concerned. And Viv is the one whose boyfriend is gone, so I wouldn’t count on her either.”
I didn’t know what more I could say. “Okay, well … let me know when you’re ready to talk.” My back was to her when I heard her voice again.
“You should know that we’re thinking about moving out next semester.”
“What?” I swung around to face her.
“You heard me. We’d both rather be somewhere else. I don’t know if they’ll let us. But we’re looking into it.”
“But … but Celeste won’t even be living here next semester! Kate will. The four of us. Like we planned!”
Abby reached to open her door. “It’s too late, Leena,” she said. “Maybe Kate will stay here with you. Viv and I don’t want to.” And with that, she disappeared.