Page 54 of Single Malt

I threw aside the sheets and climbed out of bed. The light in the bathroom was bright enough to make me squint as I stepped into the shower. I turned on the water and closed my eyes, bracing myself for the shock of cold water. It would suck, but it was the easiest way to guarantee I could get thoughts of Freedom out of my head.

At least, I hoped so because I had no other ideas of how to do it.

Thirty-Five

Freedom

I hated Valentine’s Day,but not for the reasons most people would’ve assumed. People thought that any single person – particularly single women – must dislike the holiday because they were alone. Some people played the whole “commercialized holiday made up by retailers to make money” card, but that was often people in relationships who wanted to avoid spending money on their significant other.

Me, I disliked it because single men used it as an excuse to be complete assholes to any woman they spotted who wasn’t with another person. After all, if a woman was by herself on Valentine’s Day, it must mean she was so desperate for male companionship that all a guy needed to do to get laid was be ready and waiting. I’d purposefully never hooked up with anyone on Valentine’s Day because I refused to risk misreading a man and being labeled one of those “desperate” women.

Ever since Aline had joined me at Stanford, at least, it’d been easy to find other things to do without looking “pathetic” and inviting annoyance, especially since Aline didn’t really care about the day either. I’d always wondered when she would finally decide to go out with friends or even on a date, but year after year passed, and she’d never expressed any interest in parties or dating. Honestly, I’d begun to think that she might be both asexual and aromantic, not interested in either sex or romance.

With as shitty as most men could be, I wasn’t sure if that would be a bad thing for her. I had to admit, a part of me hadn’t minded that she might never be interested in pursuing a relationship. I didn’t relish the idea of worrying about her going out on dates, and since our parents were hours away, it would have been my responsibility to ensure she wasn’t in any danger, arrived home safely, those sorts of things.

But, for now, our plans remained the same as they’d been every other Valentine’s Day. For us, that meant working. Instead of staying in our apartment, however, we were at the university library. Some of the books we needed for research were ones that couldn’t be removed from the building, and I’d suggested coming here at a time when a lot of other students would have different plans. Aline had agreed with me, so we’d taken a late lunch after our last classes of the day, then come straight here.

It was logical and routine, exactly what I needed after the last month and a half of discordance brought about by a certain man who I was definitelynotthinking about today of all days.

“How many parties do you think are going on tonight?” Aline asked, keeping her voice low, even though the other tables around us were empty. “I counted four flyers on the way here.”

“Probably twice as many, at least.” Aside from the faculty one I knew about, I’d seen signs for at least that many more on the short trip, but it didn’t surprise me that she hadn’t. She was usually lost in that brilliant mind of hers. “Any reason that’s on your mind?”

Maybe I’d been too hasty in thinking that she was happy with us doing pretty much the same thing we’d done every year since she started at Stanford. Maybe I’d completely missed her showing interest in someone. I hadn’t thought I’d been that distracted.

“I was just wondering.”

Aline’s attempt at nonchalance didn’t fool me, but I let her go back to the book she was reading, and for several minutes, the only sounds were the scratching of our pens on paper, the whisper of pages turning.

“Do you turn down dates for Valentine’s Day because you think I’d mind spending the day alone?” The notion seemed to bother her more than I would’ve thought.

“No, not at all.” I shook my head. “Why would you think that?” I wasn’t annoyed, just genuinely curious.

She shrugged. “We’ve been sharing an apartment for nearly six years, and you’ve spent every Valentine’s Day with me.”

“Maybe I just dislike the holiday.” I half-turned toward her, the conversation easier to focus on than what I’d been reading.

“Do you?” She tapped the tip of her pen on the table. “Because you’ve never said anything to indicate that was the case, so how would I know?”

She didn’t sound like she was accusing me of anything, but there was a hint of something in the question, something I couldn’t quite identify. It wasn’t annoyance. Maybe frustration? Even if I didn’t know specifically what it was, I could at least address the statement itself.

“Fair enough.” I took in a deep breath. “The truth is, I don’t like the assumptions made about a single woman sitting by themselves or going to a party alone. Both by men and women.”

“Does that mean you and past boyfriends never did anything special?”

Her curiosity was easy to see. “‘Past boyfriends?’” I raised an eyebrow.

She grinned at me, a hint of mischief in her eyes, chasing away whatever had prompted the original question in the first place. “Girlfriends?”

“With as much work as I’ve put in over the past eight years, I’m lucky I’ve even had the time to learn the names of our neighbors or the other graduate students in my field.”

That was the truth, though it wasn’t really an answer to her question, either what she’d said or what she’d meant. For the first time I could remember, she was asking about my dating life. It wasn’t that she’d made assumptions about me. More like it just had never really registered with her until now that she hadn’t seen me with anyone.

“Seriously, though, Freedom, no one’s saying you have to have and hold, but plenty of people casually date while going through graduate school.”

The concern on her face surprised me. I wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of that. I hadn’t realized that she’d paid that much attention to what I was or wasn’t doing.

Yes, I always knew where she was and what she was doing, but that was typical of older siblings. We protected our younger brothers and sisters as much as we could, and we never thought about it happening in reverse. Granted, asking questions about my love life wasn’t exactly “protecting,” but it was because she was worried about me.