Archives: April 30-May 6, 2006
April 30, 2006
“Dude, I can't believe you didn't tell me this was going on,” Matt says over the phone.
“Sorry man, I don't even know why I didn't say something to you,” I say, pacing the floor, tossing the foam ball at the hoop on the back of our door. “I guess I was just getting caught up in keeping it a secret from everyone here, though, and that kind of extended to everyone.”
“Well that's all right. We haven't talked much, so it's not like you've been keeping something from me,” he says. “So wait, does this mean that you're with Veronica now?”
“Fucked if I know. I mean, I've definitely got feelings for her. But then, I've sort of got a bad taste in mouth after this whole thing. And I don't know how Emma would react to that.”
“What's that matter?” Matt asks, audibly taking a sip of something. “She's history. Doesn't matter what she thinks anymore.”
“We're still going to be friends.”
“Yeah right.”
“Seriously man.” I pause. “Well, at the least, I still care about her. I'm not looking to hurt her, and I feel like being with Veronica in front of her is just going to make things harder. And then, besides all that, Veronica and I haven't even talked about having a relationship. For all I know, all she was looking to do was hook up sometimes.”
“Maybe that's a talk you oughta have.”
“And maybe we will. I'm just not rushing into anything.” I glance at my clock radio, to see I'm a minute late for work at the Front Desk. “Shit, I'm late for work, bro. I gotta run.”
“All right, keep me posted.”
“You got it. Later man.”May 1, 2006
When my alarm goes off at 9:30 , it wakes me from a dream. I'm upset to leave the dream—upset that it was a dream at all. But as soon as the disappointment of reality registers in my head, the memory of what was going through my mind fades and disappears. All I can remember is Veronica.
So I get up, turn on my computer and check my e-mail while chewing a hard, raw pop tart. Then it's off to the bathroom. Shit, shave, shower, and I'm strapping on my sandals, throwing on a t-shirt and making my way outside.
It's 70 degrees already, and spring is in full effect, on the cusp of summer. This is the last full week of classes, and it's like you can feel it in the air. Everywhere, people are looking a little happier. I see smiles, and see people holding hands. I never like getting up in the morning, but today, I'm feeling oddly all right with the world. And I think of Veronica.
Granted, we came together under unusual circumstances. I don't know how things are going or will go on her end. After all, she's still going to be working with Emma in The Off Beats, and I'm sure word is going to travel through their mutual friends about what happened. That, and she hasn't heard from me since Friday night.
I feel bad about that.
I think about Emma. She was special to me, and she still is. There's no way I can look back on this freshman year without recognizing how big a part of it she was. We spent so much time together. We grew together. The first time I said “I love you” to any girl, it was her on the receiving end.
But then I think about what Emma said about the timing of things—about how we can love one another, but not be in love, at least not now. She was right that I want to be with Veronica now. And the fact is, it has felt right to be with Veronica for a while now.
The sun shines in my eyes as I round a corner, nearing my class. I'm blinded for a second. Then it's all clear again.
May 2, 2006
Veronica pours hot water over a tea bag for me as I sit in the kitchen of her little apartment. I'm not really much of a tea drinker, but she was boiling water for it when I arrived here, and she offered.
Veronica's different today. A little quieter, and a little more tentative in every move she makes. She sits down on the other side of the little table. It's another warm day, but it's grown dreary and rainy this afternoon. Clouds pass outside, casting a shadow through the window, across her face. “So what did you want to talk about?” she asks.
I take a sip of tea, but it's too hot, singing my tongue. I inadvertently make a noise, and Veronica giggles, before growing very somber again, and taking a slower, more careful sip from her own mug.
“I wanted to talk about us. I mean, obviously, things are going to change now.”
“Yeah.” Veronica nods. “I know what you mean. And it's okay—I mean we had a good time. But of course you have to stay with Emma. I know how much she means to you.”
“Emma dumped me.”
“Oh.” A smile flirts with Veronica's lips, but she pushes it away. “I'm sorry to hear that.”
“Na. There are only two things I learned for sure from this—from this whole thing. And one of them was that Emma and I aren't meant to be.”
“Well I'm still sorry. I'm sorry for my part in that.”
“Well aren't you curious what the other thing I learned was?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
Veronica smirks. “Are you gonna tell me?”
“If you must know, it's—” I stop, reaching across the table, so the tips of my fingers are just touching hers. “It's that I want to be with you. If you'll have me, I want to see what we could be.”
Veronica doesn't hold back now. She doesn't only smile but gets up and stoops to kiss me, then drops down to a crouch to continue. I take hold of her arms as her hands meet the side of my face. She kisses me again, then opens her eyes, just as I open mine.May 3, 2006
It's a late Wednesday night in the office, made all the later by Carrie's absence. From what I hear, she got sick this weekend, and she looked horrible the last few days in the office, before Sam got through with his appeals for her to take the rest of the week off to rest up and get better. In her absence, Sam has had me doing edits on the other sections on top of my own work.
“Gotta tell you, Presto, I saw it coming,” Sam says. “I knew something was going on .”
“And how's that?”
“Remember when Veronica came to visit you in the office last week? Girls don't just drop in like that.”
“What? She was my friend—”
“Yeah but this wasn't a friend visit. You could tell how she felt from how she talked to you. And you could tell how you felt by the way your face changed the second Emma showed up.”
I chuckle. “I guess it wasn't so hard to see.”
Sam downs what's left of his soda bottle then hurls it across the room into the wastebasket. “So you happy now with Veronica?”
“Yeah, I think it's gonna be a good thing,” I say and pause to think. “I guess I've probably needed for a change for a long time.” I look back down at the article I've been proofing. “Now tell me Ellie Gallagher isn't actually going to run for Student Life Editor tomorrow?”
“Why's that?”
“Is this even English?” I ask holding up the page, already covered in edits and I'm only half way through it.
“Maybe she should run for News Editor instead,” Sam says holding up my own copy reads. I give him the finger and we both turn back to work. It's going to be a long night, and tomorrow's meeting we'll be electing editors for next year. Despite the long nights and work load, I am looking forward to working with Sam again. We're both running uncontested.May 4, 2006
Sam and I are uncontested in our elections. While a few of the other elections do see candidates squaring off against one another, I'm surprised by just how light-hearted the meeting is. Perhaps it's because it's the last one of the year, or, for people like Carrie, the last meeting, period.
I'm surprised by how Carrie is acting as well, joking around with me for the first time and smiling throughout the proceedings, despite still showing signs of being sick, wiping at her nose or blowing it every couple minutes. In the end, as I guess is Window staff tradition, Sam present her with a gift on behalf of the staff—a shining silver flask.
After the meeting, a bunch of us head to Luigi's Pizzeria. At Sam's prodding, I give Veronica a buzz and invite her along, but she turns it down, noting she has a final tomorrow morning.
The rest of us have a large meal, Sam having pie after pie and pitchers of soda brought to the table until everyone's stuffed. From there, it's off to the small house Sam shares with one of his buddies, where Sam has ample beer on ice.
“You know, it's too bad your girlfriend couldn't come out tonight,” Carrie says. “I'd like to get to know her.”
“I'm sure she'd like to get to know you too,” I reply, unsure if that's true at all.
Carrie peers up at me as I sit on a recliner and she leans backward on Sam's couch. Close as we are, I can see the dry skin around her nose from constant blowing, and the snot in her nostrils she's too drunk or lazy to care about now. “I didn't know how I felt about you before Preston . I felt you just kind of blew in here, and got the job because you scored with one big story.” She pauses drinking deeply from her wine cooler. “But you turned out all right. You're good at your job, and I wish we would've hung out earlier.”
“That means a lot,” I say. “Because I have a lot of respect for you.”
“Aww.” Carrie reaches out, as if to touch me, but then lets her hand fall. Sick as she is, I'm not eager for physical contact. “That's so nice.”
“All right everybody,” Sam breaks in. At this point, a little past 10 p.m. , there are six of us lounging around his living room, all drunker than we should be by this time of night. “I'd like to have a toast. To a great year, and a great year ahead.” He begins to walk around the room, his beer raised.
“Here, here!” Carrie calls out, as Teri, giggles, a little more reserved.
Sam goes on to rattle off name after name, working his way through everyone there, and a lot of people who aren't. “To Carrie—a fine Managing Editor on her way out, and to Teri—a fine Managing Editor on her way in. To me, your fearless leader. And last of all, to my boy, Preston Burns. Cheers!”May 5, 2006
Veronica and I go out to eat at the Dead Poet's Café. Rather than sitting all the way in the back the way did on our last visit, this time we feel free to take a table right by the big glass windows up front. We don't have anything to hide now.
“I love the paintings here,” Veronica says stirring a plastic spoon in circles around the vegetables in her minestrone soup. “The colors are just perfect.” The one across from me shows a grassy overhang, overlooking a lake, and at the same time, from another angle, a woman's face in distorted colors. Looking around, I take notice of the dark swirling greens and blues all around me. “When I can afford art, I'm going to have stuff like this on all of my walls.”
“It's pretty,” I agree, and take a bite from my BLT.
Veronica kicks me under table. “So tell me about the big election day.”
I finish chewing, and say, “Not too much to tell. I ran uncontested, so it's all set. I'll be news editor again.”
“Well good. No one should challenge you for it.”
I chuckle. “So is anyone challenging you for leadership of the Off Beats next year?”
“Ha. Like anyone wants my job—arranging song after song, preparing rehearsals—”
“Then why do you do it?”
She smiles, blowing on the broth and bit of celery on her spoon. “Because I don't trust anyone else to.”
*
We wind up back at Veronica's place. She turns her key to let us in and I lean in to kiss her cheek. She pushes open the door and asks, “Is that all I get?”
Next thing I know, we're both inside, the door's closed and she's got me pressed against it kissing me hard and pressing her hands to my chest beneath my shirt. Then my shirt's off and I'm on top of her, kissing her on her bed. Then her shirt's off. Then she's unbuckled my belt.
“You feel so good,” Veronica says, kissing at my ear, my cheek, my neck.
“You're amazing,” I reply, bare legs tangling with hers.
She reaches past her head, sliding her nightstand drawer open, and the next thing I know, has pressing the perforated edge of a condom wrapper into my hand.
“You sure you want to do this?” I ask.
“Why, aren't you?”
There's a lot Veronica and I don't know about each other. And in this instant, I decide that that's all right—that what matters is how we're feeling the same thing on this night, in this moment.
For an instant, my mind flashes to Emma. For a long time, I thought my first time would be with her.
I meet Veronica's eyes with mine, and hold her there for a second, not blinking. Her eyes close and I kiss her as hard as I can.
May 6, 2006
When I wake up, I'm alone in bed, hugging a pillow that smells like Veronica. It's still pretty dark in the room, making it all the more surprising when I look at the clock and find it's already 10:30 in the morning.
I pull the thick curtains apart just a bit, and sunlight pours in. I look down on Saturday Morning Main Street, still quiet at this hour, where it seems only the old townies and shop owners have begun their days. I let the curtain close and put on my boxer shorts.
Opening the door, Veronica appears just outside the bedroom, seated at a desk in a spaghetti strap top and pajama pants. She looks up from a book, and sets her pen down on top of a notebook. “Good morning,” she says.
I scratch the back of my head, walking toward her and lean down to kiss her. A couple seconds after I've slid my tongue into her mouth she puts a hand on my chest, softly pushing me away. “Easy there.”
“That's not what you were saying last night.”
“Yeah, but now it's morning. And now I have a final on Tuesday to prep for.”
“It's Saturday now,” I counter, sitting on the edge of her desk. I feel suddenly naked there and wish I had put on my t-shirt from the night before. “What's the rush to study?”
“You say that long enough and you never study. I don't play that game.”
“Come on, at least have breakfast with me. Let me take you out someplace—right here on Main Street .”
Veronica hesitates, then smiles, turning her book over. “No more than an hour,” she says “Then I have to study.”
I raise my hand. “Word of honor.”
Veronica gets up a little gingerly and winces with her first step. She straightens a moment later, though, and makes her way to her bedroom to put on some clothes for our morning outing.