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ME: I just wanted to give you time to think about what we’ve done.
ME: Make sure you’re comfortable.
And now I’m texting too much.
Lance doesn’t reply right away, which makes me nervous. Like if he doesn’t want to get together again, some part of me will suffer.
As soon as the bubble pops up, adrenaline pulses through me.
LANCE: If we both keep waiting for the other to text, we’re gonna be waiting for a long-ass time.
I could start bouncing around the break room, I’m so excited.
ME: In that case, I guess we do need to meet up again.
LANCE: I agree.
I notice Cheryl coming from the kitchen, so I slide my phone into my pocket and get back to work.
When I take the check to the Alpha Theta Mu crew, I givethem the appropriate amount of hell. And while I chat with them, Lance and I keep glancing at one another, enjoying this little secret we share that none of his buddies know about—I doubt could even guess given the interactions they’ve seen between us.
As they’re heading out, the place is getting busy. It’s not even a few minutes since they left when I feel another vibration in my pocket, and I take a look.
LANCE: You want to meet up at the Omega Psi party tomorrow?
There it is!
ME: Do I ever…
*
I throw ona shirt, checking myself in the mirror in the en suite bathroom of my room. Most of the rooms in our house don’t have one, but being a senior and the president, I have priority for the perk.
I study my arms. I’m filling this polo out nicely.
I tell myself I’m being my usual vain self, but I know I secretly hope Lance will think I’m looking good. That this will make Lance eager to sneak off with me for more trouble.
I grab my phone off the counter and notice it’s pulled a Memory from photos, which immediately makes me tense up.
I’m tempted to leave it. No reason to dredge anything up tonight. But it’s been three years. I can handle whatever’s in here.
I click on it.
I’m used to seeing the old pics of Grant and me. Going on fishing trips. To Six Flags. Universal Studios. Go-carts. Sometimes it’s pleasant to reflect on the good times. But this picture isn’t from those days. It’s Grant sitting on the couch,looking pale as hell, his gaze not meeting the camera as I hook my arm around him and smile.
My chest tightens, and I press my palm against it. I quickly close out of the Memory, but the floodgates have opened and the memories are back, a montage of everything from the disorientation and confusion to the fall…to steadily losing more and more of him each day. I fight back the tears as I instinctively start to pull up Mom’s number, but I stop myself.
No. I can’t do this to her. I refuse to do this to her. I must deal with this shit on my own.
It’ll pass. It always passes.
I tuck my phone in my pocket, telling myself I just need to get out there and live my life. That’s what Grant would have wanted.
But fuck, it hurts like hell.
11
Lance