Page 19 of Drawn Together

Fifteen

Word of the day: Ludiosis

Definition: The sense that you’re making it up as you go along

The incoming Facetime from Sloane has me throwing myself out of bed on Saturday morning, attempting to calm my mane down to a reasonable volume. I set the phone on my windowsill where she has a waist up view of me and can’t see the orange flannel pajamas I'm sporting.

Good morning , I sign, and she smiles.

Good morning , she follows with my sign name. A little sign for an artist with an F around it. It breaks down more like F-Draw-Person. My parents always use their own sign name for me—a flower sign with an F—but Sloane has this one just for me.

Fun plans for the day?

Just sleep. I stick out my tongue and hang my head to exaggerate it, and she rolls her eyes with a smile.

I finally got somewhere with that Cedric guy. I’m exhausted from work.

She signs Cedric followed by dirtbag and I laugh with a nod.

Yeah, him.

She tells me about her new boyfriend, Tristan—a blonde ‘cutie’ with tight muscles and a big brain.

Have you gone on any dates recently?

Not even close.

She frowns.

Don’t tell Mom or Dad that. They’ll tie it back to Austin.

Sloane rolls her eyes. They would never.

I give a skeptical look, and she shrugs.

Her hands move rapidly. Mom talks a lot when the wine comes out at dinners.

I nod. That sounds right.

She catches me up on school and social life.

She tells me about the senior prank—disassembling and reassembling the principal's car from the parking lot to the gym.

And she and Tristan went on a double date with Rachel and ‘Doobie’—no clue who that is.

She tells me of her newest lip shade, Teddy Rose—a burnt red/brown that is lovely against her skin tone but would give me butthole lips if I dared to try it—and I tell her about Backside, Fletcher, and my book clubs.

I tell her that she has to read Frankenstein , and I swear her eyes roll out of her head and onto the floor.

Lennon throws the door open behind me and is smiling when she comes in, a rare and lovely sight.

“Hi.”

I sign and reply at once, “Hey.”

She looks from me to the phone propped on the window. “Oh, you’re busy?”

“My sister.” I move away from the screen so she can see.

Sloane tries to sign to my roommate and Lennon waits for me to translate. I roll my eyes, knowing I could fake what she said, but then she would read my lips and know I'm lying, so no point in hiding it.

“She said to set me up with one of your friends so she can tell my ex-boyfriend back home that I’m not a ‘total loser.’”

Lennon gives Sloane a wink. “Tell her I will get right on it.”

Translating my sister’s exaggerative thank you, I hang up the phone with a promise to call her later when she promises not to force me into downloading dating apps.

“So, is said ex the mom lover?”

My snort is loud. “He didn’t love my mom, just thought she was pretty when we were like twelve.”

“Mmm, sure. Is it him?”

“The one and only.”

“You’ve dated since then, right?”

“Not exactly.” And by not exactly, I should just say no. Not even a smidge.

“Why not?”

“Hard to get out there.” Hard to not scare people away.

“Well, you’re in the perfect spot to make friends.”

“It’s proven more difficult than you’d think.”

Lennon grabs a throw blanket and curls it around her legs to sit down next to me. “Yeah, uh about that—the making friends and all. I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“I’m really sorry I was such a bad roommate for so long.”

“What?” I sit up and bring my legs up to the cushion with me, tucking them under my butt. “No, you were never a bad roommate. I just rarely saw you until recently, which I think is actually most people’s preferred roommate.”

“Maybe.” She gives a timid grin. “But, that’s not your preference, is it?”

“I don’t think I would even know my preference. I have only ever had one roommate in college, and trust me, the bar was set extremely low.”

“I kind of lost myself right before you got here. I think I’m still lost, actually. But, it’s been easier the last few weeks. Lighter.”

“Well,” I beam at her, “I’m glad we’re friends now.”

“Me too.”

She goes off to her room and before she reaches the knob a thought crosses my mind. Lennon had to be friends with that Ryan guy too, right? If Stephan and Fletcher were like brothers to him and they’ve all been friends forever…and he died only a month before I moved in…

“Hey, Lennon?”

“Yeah?” She turns on a heel.

“Were you…close with Ryan?”

Her whole body freezes up at his name.

“You don’t have to tell me, I just thought about the timing of me moving in and—”

“My brother.” She shakes her head. “Ryan was my brother.”

My breath hitches in my throat. The thought of losing Sloane—the thought of losing anyone that I cared so near and dear for—is unfathomable. To go through that kind of grief with so much life left to go through without them. I don’t think I could do it.

“I’m so—” I cough and realize my eyes are watering at just the thought, and how pathetic it is that Lennon is giving me sympathetic eyes, like I was the one grieving. She lost him only six months ago. No wonder she was always gone. No wonder she lost herself. I don’t think I could ever be the same.

“I’m so sorry. If you ever need to talk to someone who never got to meet him, I’m here.”

She nods. “Thanks.”

I turn back to the window, and she turns back toward her room, leaving me to soak that information in.

Then, a blip of a sentence. So tiny and quiet, I almost miss it. “His favorite color was green,” she whispers into the cool air, and I note to myself to notice all things green around me from here on out.

Lennon and I don’t talk about Ryan again for the next couple days, but every time I see something green in the bookstore, I wonder if I should push it to the back shelf where no one goes—except Edith and her ex-husband when they go to make out, or someone lost on their way to the bathroom.

We do, however, talk about The Fireflies of Embermoor . Often. She has completely devoured the series since we last spoke, and now, I am reading three books a week, as we are re-reading the series together now.

“And Archer? Didn’t you love him?” I gush at the thought of my first book boyfriend crush at the ripe age of fourteen. Wavy blonde hair and a crooked grin, a tiny scar on his right cheek. Archer from the past was every reading girl's dream boyfriend in Whistle Bay.

Lennon’s nose scrunches. “No, but nerdy guys have never been my type.”

“What is your type?”

“Just Stephan.” She pops her shoulders. “What about you?”

“I don’t know if I have a type.” I think about it for a moment.

I’ve been attracted to multiple men—that much is the easy part.

Actually, I think it’s harder to find someone unattractive than the other way around.

Everyone has something in them that I can get on board with.

But, what’s the kind of guy that sticks longer than a fleeting moment in an airport or on the subway?

Big brains, wild hair, slightly condescending in a flirty, but efficient way.

“I think I like someone who is a little smarter than me. Is that weird?”

I blame it all on my very first sexual awakening: Clippy. Something about a man with all the answers just really does it for me.

“Like Cliff?”

I look over to our other coworker. He is hunched over a bowl of cereal—no idea where he got that from—and trying to read his sixth book about bio-engineered bears coming to life to haunt bees in the forest. His very long beard is beginning to trail into the bowl's milk.

“No, not like Cliff.”

“Well,” we each stack the next row of books, “if you are looking for a rebound—”

“Is it considered a rebound if it’s been over two years?”

“Have you kissed anyone since?”

Speaking of mortifying…

“No.”

“Then yes, I think the first one is a rebound. And if you are looking for one, you should come out with us this weekend.”

“Out?”

“There’s a cool bar down by 22nd that has a cowboy theme.

We used to go all the time, but it’s been a while.

Fletcher must have cabin fever from working from home or something, because he keeps suggesting ways for us all to hang out.

” She heaves another stack of books like they are feathers.

“But, if you are looking for someone, it’s a good place. ”

Am I? Looking for someone, that is. I don’t know.

On one hand, companionship sounds lovely.

Not to mention, it’s been so long since I’ve been touched.

I’m worried my libido is going to pack up her bags and jump ship.

I mean, half of Sex and the City is sex, right?

I wouldn’t know, considering I’ve never watched it, but it’s right there in the title.

On the other hand, I don't think I can comfortably jump into a full-fledged relationship with a stranger right now. And even if I wanted to, how can I convince another person I’m worth sticking around for?

I’m jealous of other people, just because they don’t have to deal with me all the time.

So, I shrug. “I don’t know if I want a boyfriend right now.”

Lennon smirks. “I didn’t necessarily mean a boyfriend.”

“What did you mean, then?”’

She quirks a brow, and I put together that my puzzle is missing a piece or two—like a page ripped out from your favorite chapter.

“You could just do a one night rebound.”

Oh. Well, that’s true. I don’t know if I have that in me either, though.

“Maybe.” I smile and stack my books again, letting the thought run in my head of what a one night rebound would even entail.