Left Drowning

“I think three weeks on the Cape sounds even better than two, don’t you?” James smiles broadly and nudges me.

“Yes, I do.” I nudge him back.

James put his arm over my shoulder and pulls me in while we blink pleadingly at A

“You are still expected to find a job, you know, young man.” A

“I’m quite sure that three weeks of decompression would totally rejuvenate his desire to seek employment. Right, James?”

He nods seriously. “Absolutely.”

A

I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I turn to Sabin. He is visibly teary. “Oh my God, Sabe. Don’t. No crying, okay?” I put my hand over his giant hand and squeeze. “What is it?”

“It’s … weird to watch you with James.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well … the way he … put his arm over your shoulder just now. That’s my thing with you.” He shrugs.

I smile. “Well, my, my, Sabin Shepherd, are you jealous?”

“Fuck, yes, I am. But I’m happy for you. You have a family again.”

“You listen to me, all right? Listen,” I say firmly. “You are my family. From the minute that you stole my coffee, you were my family. That’s for always. I will always need you, no matter how close James and I ever get. All four of you, you have changed my life.”

“Shit, I’m going to miss you.” He can’t look at me, and that’s probably for the best.

I give in and let my eyes fill. There is going to be a lot of crying this weekend. That’s unavoidable. “This is going to be a hard good-bye,” I say.

“Yes, it is.” He takes my wineglass, fills it, and drinks half the glass. “But I know it’s not your hardest.”

“No, you’re wrong. This one is different, but it’s just as hard.” I get up from my chair and take my favorite spot in his lap. I won’t get to have his big arms around me anytime that I want after this. What I am losing is starting to seem like too much now, and I don’t know how to deal with it. “You’ll come visit me; you promised.”

He hugs me and nods into my neck, and I bury my face into him. “Yeah, I will. And maybe you’ll come out here, too? We could have a Thanksgiving do-over?”

“I can’t come for a holiday. Not if—”

“I know. Not if Chris is here.”

I relax into Sabin’s comfort. I know that I’m going to need it in a minute. In the way that Chris was able to stabilize me in the past, Sabin is going to have to stabilize me now because I’m about to ask him what I don’t want to hear, but what I need to hear. “Chris is staying in town, isn’t he?”

Sabin pauses and then nods again. “Yeah, sweetie.”

“And there’s more, isn’t there?”

“There is.”

I don’t say anything for a minute. “They’re sleeping together, aren’t they?”

“Oh, I have no idea. But, Blythe …” He starts to say something else and then stops.

“What are you talking about?” And then I know. The horrible understanding falls into place for me. He doesn’t have to tell me because I know. I can feel it. “Oh God, Sabin, no.” I shut my eyes and let the tears fall. I hold on tightly. It’s worse than I thought. “Please tell me no. He can’t do this.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“When?”

“Not until next June.”

Chris is getting married.

The phrase repeats in my head until it seems like I’m shouting it at myself. I feel numb. How is this possible? I thought he was just like me.

I thought the only marriage proposal he’d ever make would be a drunk one, on a rooftop, holding a wedge of lime.

I thought neither of us would ever chase after tradition for the sake of tradition.

I thought our being together would be a slow build.

I thought we would find our way into a love with no return.

I thought that we were an absolute.

Sabin rubs my back and lets my tears fall over his jacket. “Maybe you can stop him.”

“No, I can’t. Even if I could, I don’t want to have to stop him.”

***

I am numb as we wrap up the evening. By the time I’m back in my dorm room, I’ve decided that I want away from Matthews, away from Chris, and away from all the pain that’s here. If I can just get through the next thirty-six hours, I’ll be fine. I will. I can do this.

It’s just fucking heartbreak, that’s all.

Determined to avoid acting pitiful, I take my dirty clothes down to the laundry room in the dorm basement and load them into the machines. I sit on the hard counter and stare at the wash cycle. Spin. Yeah, I am definitely spi

Of all the people whom I do not want to see, Chris tops the list. So when he walks into the laundry room, I immediately white-knuckle the edge of the countertop.

He sets his laundry on top of a washer. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Chris leans against the machine. As much as I don’t want to look at him, I can’t help myself. Maybe it’s only been a few months that we’ve been distant, but it seems an eternity since I’ve had the opportunity, forced or not, to see how painfully intoxicating he is. It perplexes me that he isn’t hounded by women at every turn, because he’s that intensely attractive to me. I don’t notice anyone else. Even the resentment and bitterness at the forefront of my thinking ca

This is one of the last times that I’ll see him, I realize. I won’t get to see him brush his black hair away from those green eyes, I won’t get to see how his shirts always cling so perfectly to his body, and I won’t be on the receiving end of that half smile that infuses my world with so much.

We sit there for a long time; the background noise from the machines is the only thing protecting us at all from the paralyzing tension.

Finally he breaks the silence. “I talked to Sabin.” He blows the hair from his eyes. “He told you.”

“I don’t want to discuss it.”

“Blythe …”

“No. No, shut up, Chris.” I feel myself shift gears to a place where I ca

“I was going to tell you myself, but—”

“But what?” I spit out. I slide from the counter and continue to explode. “Who the fuck decides to get married after a few months? At our age? There is so much time left to decide … to make these kinds of promises later. Why now? Chris, why now? You didn’t even want a girlfriend, much less a wife! And … and … and now you’re engaged? Why didn’t you just tell me that you didn’t want me? That would have been fair. This? This shit is not fair. You know goddamn well how I feel about you, Christopher.”

He doesn’t take his eyes from me, and he lets me unleash all of my hurt.

“Does this all make me sick? Yes. Does the thought of you touching her the way you touched me fucking tear me apart? Yes. But, for the record, am I jealous? No. This is not jealousy. I don’t want what you have with her. I would never want something like that with you. And fuck you, no, I’m not going to say her fucking name.” I am crying freely now with no pretense that I can hold it together. “I want what we started to have. What we could have. I mean, am I crazy? Did I really make that all up?” I look at him and shake my head. I start to calm down because I recognize something in him. Something I saw during our last night at the hotel. “No. I didn’t. I can see that … I know you, Chris, and I know that you felt what I did, didn’t you?”