Page 15 of A Curse for the Homesick

AUGUST

2016

I met at the start of my third year; at the time, I was swimming at the outdoor pool. There was still something novel about that, a pool with no roof, and even though I didn’t swim particularly fast anymore, I did swim most mornings. I cut through the water, bright ultramarine in the shattering sunlight, swimming backstroke until I saw the red-and-white flags bobbing overhead. On one side of the pool, there was a gym with windows behind which students played basketball and ellipticaled. On the other side of the pool, a grassy hill rose toward the street. People on towels, at least one of whom appeared to be reading a Java textbook, lay on the grass in swimsuits.

Bianca thought swimming was just protracted drowning, but she came to the pool with me a few times a month anyway. When I reached the end of my set and looked for her, I saw her sitting in the grass, shading her face with a paperback as she spoke to a guy in pastel shorts.

I pulled off my cap and goggles and wrapped my towel around myself before going to join them.

Bianca looked up at the guy. “Have you two met?”

He was considering me intently. His eyelashes were dark and his eyes jarringly blue. A square jaw tapered to a square chin. On the curve of symmetricalness, he was beyond attractive and into the uncanny valley. There was something immediately intimidating about him, but I wasn’t sure if it was his build—tall and muscular—or his clothes—sharp and fitted in a way that made his parents’ socioeconomic status abundantly clear.

“I don’t think we have,” he said.

I offered the hand that wasn’t holding my cap and goggles. “Tess.”

He shook. “.”

“Tess is my roommate,” Bianca said. “ is poli-sci with me.”

“I was just on my way to brunch,” he said. “You two want to join?”

Over pancakes (me) and omelets ( and Bianca), I learned that was from Connecticut and had two older brothers. I asked if their names were June and July. He said, “Connor and Thomas, actually,” and without meaning to or stopping to consider, I found myself saying, “I had a friend named Thomas who got turned to stone.”

“What the fuck, Tess!” Bianca said. “You never thought to mention that?”

I shrugged and ate my pancake and wished I hadn’t spoken.

“But, like, are you okay?” Bianca pressed.

“I left, didn’t I?” I said, which I thought was a fair answer but didn’t seem to make her happy.

“My uncle actually died that way,” said, so casually it took me a prolonged moment to process what he’d said. When I did, I frowned at him, a bit of pancake halfway to my mouth.

“What?”

“My uncle,” repeated. “He went to Stenland on a trip just before I was born and got turned to stone. That’s where you’re from, right? Stenland?”

I nodded.

“Sounds like a crazy place,” said, then went back to eating his omelet.

To Bianca, I said, “Did you know about this?”

She just shrugged and shot me a knowing look, though what she knew was unclear. It seemed impossible that someone else whose life had been touched by a skeld could cross my path accidentally. Surely Bianca must’ve set up this meeting for us, or maybe knew who I was all along and sought me out. When it seemed like neither of those things were the case, I told myself that it was fate.

“Damian’s been saying for years that he should do a documentary on Stenland,” Bianca said.

“Really?” asked.

“No,” I said.

“That’s what she always says.”

Flatly, I told Bianca I would rather die. If found this abrupt and off-putting, he got over it quickly. He asked me if I wanted to go on a date while we were bussing our plates. I hadn’t gone on any dates at school, though over the course of my sophomore year and the first month of junior year, I’d slept with two other men, which had been fine, and one woman, which had been both more and less terrifying than the men. Less because she’d been funny and relaxed. More because I’d had no idea what I was doing. Though I’d considered asking all three of these people if they wanted to go on dates, I had a fear that I would no longer find them attractive the moment I was committed to them.

I told I’d think about it.

* * *

Linnea video called me a few hours later. I was alone in my room working on a problem set. Through my window, I could see people playing beer pong on a lawn. I answered the call, and Linnea’s face filled my screen.

“Tess!”

“Linnie.”

“What are you doing? Are you doing maths again? Is that all you ever do?”

“Yes,” I said. “Where are you?” It was loud behind her, and her cheeks were flushed.

“Huh? Oh, my house. It’s Saffi’s birthday.” She panned the camera around, but I caught only flashes—bodies without faces, voices without names. “She’s eighteen. Isn’t that weird? It makes me feel decrepit.”

I set down my pencil and tucked my feet up on my chair, wrapping an arm around my knees. “How are you?”

“I am medium. Kitty hasn’t been answering my calls.”

“Has Kitty ever answered calls?”

“She hasn’t been answering my texts either. I think—oh my god. Someone is eating my rosemary plant. I’ll be right back. Henrik, take Tess.”

I had the sense of being jostled as the party flashed around me again. My room felt very quiet, very warm and still in comparison.

Henrik stared down at me from an unflattering below-the-chin angle. “Oh, hi Tess!”

He’d started growing a beard, I noticed. It was reddish, which surprised me because his hair was dark blond.

“How are the cars?” I asked.

“They’re good. Your dad is good. I replaced a transmission today. You’ll be going to watch the Grand Prix in person next week?”

“It’s in Texas,” I said. “Too far away. I’ll stream it, though.”

“Go Lewis,” Henrik said.

“Go Lewis,” I agreed.

“Hey, sorry, I gotta pee. Here—I’ll be right back.”

The party swirled around me again. A familiar voice said, “Hey, don’t—”

And then I was looking at Soren.

Two years and one month.

“Hi, Tess,” he said softly.

His eyes really were such a pale blue they looked gray; whose eyes were gray? I’d forgotten they actually looked like that, that it wasn’t just something I’d invented in retrospect.

“You cut your hair,” I said. It wasn’t lumpy anymore. Shorter on the sides now, which made it a shade darker. He looked older; I supposed that he was.

“So did you,” he said.

I touched the ends of my hair. It went to my collarbones now, but the last time he’d seen me, it had been down to my ribs. Kitty and I had gotten the same haircut on the same day, via FaceTime, and now Linnea was the only one left with long hair.

“It’s really nice,” Soren said.

We stared at each other for longer than two friends would stare at each other, longer even than two people who were dating would have any cause to stare at each other. My stomach was weightless inside me like I’d just stepped off the edge of something high. I told myself it was nostalgia, that a pixelated version of him in a screen could make me feel more want and hurt and love and loneliness than anyone who had touched me in the past two years and one month.

“How are things?” I asked.

He nodded, which I took to mean Good. “Lukas misses you.”

“I heard he didn’t get into any American universities.”

“I know you read his essays,” Soren said. “Thanks for that, by the way. It meant a lot to him.”

“Sorry I couldn’t do more.”

He shrugged. “Linnea said you’re studying cars?”

I smiled faintly at that. “Mechanical engineering.”

Usually, when I talked to someone on a video call, I could see their eyes on the corner of their screen, watching themselves the whole time. I didn’t mind because I did it too. But with Soren, it felt like he was looking right at me.

“That makes me happy,” he said.

“Are you still doing Stennish studies?” I asked.

“Slowly but surely. I—really love it.”

Want and hurt and love and loneliness. “That’s great,” I said quietly.

Someone jostled him out of frame, and he turned a smile on whoever it was. They were saying his name, tugging at his arm, and he was still smiling as he gently detached himself. The camera tilted, and I felt a jolt on seeing a pale face and long hair that I thought, at first, belonged to Linnea. But no—it was her sister, Saffi, so much more adult and so much more beautiful than the last time I’d seen her. It wasn’t fair to be jealous.

When Soren looked back at me again, I heard myself saying, “So, are you seeing anyone these days?”

His smile faltered. “Ah,” he said. “Yeah. She’s—You don’t know her. She’s Canadian. She was just backpacking through for a week but really liked it here, so she applied for Stennish studies.” When I didn’t say anything, he added, “Her name’s Abigail.”

It didn’t surprise me that Soren would fall in love with someone who would fight to live in Stenland instead of to escape it. I was sure it was a good match. Better than the two of us anyway.

“She sounds great,” I said, but I didn’t sound like I meant it.

“What about you?” he asked.

I rubbed the corner of my desk. There was an ink mark there from where I’d chewed the top off a pen last week. “Actually,” I said, “I have a date tonight.”

The phone got passed back to Henrik, and then it got passed back to Linnea, and I chatted with them for as long as I could bear, which was only about ten minutes. When I was done, I found on Facebook and sent him a message.

Me: I’m done thinking about it. Dinner tonight?

He responded right away.

: Tonight? Mmm

: Let me check my calendar

: Okay. For you, I’m free

Me: Off campus somewhere?

: I’ll make a reservation. 7?

Me: Where?

: It’s a surprise

Me: No, tell me

Me: So I know how to dress and whether my bank account will start crying

: Nah my treat

: It’s a surprise :)

: I’m sure you’ll look beautiful

Me: Seriously, where are we going?

: :)

I ran my hands through my hair. It was still sticky with chlorine. I’d meant to shower after swimming, but I hadn’t had time before we’d gone to brunch.

A surprise restaurant. I didn’t like surprises. I also didn’t know if I liked being treated to dinner, but I told myself that if he wasn’t going to let me have a say in where we were going to eat, it was his fault if he ended up paying a very large bill.

Before I could think better of it, I typed Soren’s name into my phone. The last time he had texted me was the day of my going away party. He was asking if he should bring my mum a book to make her like him. It made my heart feel numb to look at it, so I tried not to.

Me: For what it’s worth

Me: I really am happy you love Stennish studies

Unlike , Soren didn’t respond right away. He had on read receipts, probably because read receipts were the final word in letting someone know your lack of a response was the response. He read the message. Did not write back. I set my phone face down and tried not to look at it again. About an hour before my date, as I was trying to put on eyeliner and wishing Kitty were there, it buzzed. I told myself it was , but when I flipped it over, I saw Soren’s name, and for the first time in a long time, it actually was Soren’s name.

Soren: For what it’s worth

Soren: It was really nice talking to you

It was two in the morning in Stenland. I wondered if he was back home now or with our friends still or at Abigail’s house. I wondered if he was imagining me getting ready for my date and hating that it was not with him.

I almost responded, but I left him on read instead.