“Don’t worry,” I assure her. “My Mom took plenty. She said she’d make copies for me and send them as soon as she gets them developed.”
After all that I tell her about Jackie, and I’m glad I waited until the end for it. Between the wine and all the good news, she doesn’t freak out nearly as much as she would have if I’d told her that part first. She’s still rattled by it, though, and the fact that I was able to warn Jackie doesn’t seem to ease her mind nearly as much as it did mine.
“It’s too close. That means he’s here, he could be outside right now, driving past us.” I feel like the room just got about twenty degrees colder. “Doesn’t that bother you? Doesn’t it scare the hell out of you?” Well, it didn’t until just now.
I take a big sip of water to give myself a moment to think. Then I tell her the truth. “I was so focused on Jackie herself, I didn’t think about it past that.” What she said should have been obvious all along, but until she said it, I honestly didn’t give it a thought.
“Yeah, I can understand that. You must have been going out of your mind when you woke up.” She’s looking at me a little warily now, as though she expects me to have a meltdown right in the middle of the restaurant. I can’t really blame her.
And she’s right–“going out of my mind” is a pretty accurate description of how I felt. “I bit the arm off of my stuffed rabbit in my sleep, that’s how freaked out I was.” She doesn’t seem surprised. She looks like she’s got something more to say, but she catches herself. “What? What are you thinking?”
She won’t say. “It was a stupid thought, it’s not worth mentioning.”
“I thought we didn’t keep secrets?” As soon as I say that, I wish I hadn’t; I’m not at all sure I do want to hear what she doesn’t want to say.
She drains the last of her wine in one swallow. Now I know I don’t want to hear it. “I don’t want to spoil our evening, but–have you thought–if he gives up on Jackie–what’s he going to do then?”
Oh, my God. There’s something else I haven’t given a thought to. “I should have, but–no, I haven’t.” I realize that I’m holding very tightly onto the edge of the table and I’m not meeting her eyes. I take a deep breath, and then another, and I drink more of my water. I feel slightly calmer and I tell her about the dreams I’ve had since Christmas Eve, the car driving around endlessly, round and round the bus stop.
“Maybe,” Beth says in a very careful tone, and now she’s the one not meeting my eyes. “Maybe he can’t give up on her. Maybe he’ll just keep driving by that bus stop every day because he can’t bring himself to change his pattern. Maybe he’s stuck.”
I’d love for that to be true, and I’m trying to put it out of my mind that if she really believed it she’d have looked me in the eye while she said it. I just nod along with her. I take a long time to answer, and there’s no confidence at all in my voice when I finally do. “Yeah, that could be. That could definitely be.”
Thankfully, neither of us says another word on the subject after that. In an effort to put it out of my mind–and hers–I tell Beth about my plan for surprising Brian on Friday when he comes back. It seems to work.
“That’s something I would do. I’m glad I’m finally rubbing off on you,” she tells me, and she sounds genuinely impressed. “I’m so proud of you!” I thought she might be.
***
…Sara is standing in a dorm room, which she instantly recognizes as her own. She sees herself standing in front of the closet, looking at herself in a mirror. Dream-Sara is wearing a skirt several inches shorter than anything the real Sara owns or has ever contemplated owning, and a sweater at least two sizes too tight. “Come out with me, you need to get out more,” dream-Sara says, and the real Sara sees she’s speaking to Beth. Who’s sitting at the desk, hair unwashed, wearing a shapeless sweatshirt and banging away on an old manual typewriter.
“I can’t. I’ve got to finish this paper. It’s supposed to be five to ten pages, and I’ve only written twenty so far,” Beth says, turning her attention back to the typewriter…
…and then Sara finds herself in the back seat of a car, driving up to the bus stop on East 107th street. The driver parks just beyond the stop and gets out. Sara watches as the man, so very familiar to her, examines the area around the stop. He peers into trash cans, carefully studies the bus schedule on the pole mounted by the curb. He looks in all directions, searching for something that isn’t here. Something Sara knows isn’t going to be here. Something that, Sara knows, he knows isn’t going to be here…
***
“He knows. He knows,” someone is muttering. It’s me. The words are coming out of my mouth. But who knows? What do they know?
It comes to me all at once. It’s exactly what Beth said at dinner last night. What happens when it gets through to this guy that Jackie’s never going to be at that bus stop? I’m afraid to find out, but I’m much more afraid that I’m going to.
I don’t have the heart to tell Beth about what I saw–and if I’m being honest I don’t want to think about it myself. I don’t know what I can do about it right now anyway, so my plan is to keep my mind on things I can control. And at the moment that’s a short list: breakfast, shopping and seeing Brian tomorrow.
***
Against my better judgment I do tell Beth about last night’s dream, finally. We’re back in our room and it’s nearly eleven o’clock at night. She’s angry that I waited until we’re getting ready for bed to drop it on her and I have to admit she’s right to be. “I’ve been pushing it out of my mind all day long,” I say. “And I didn’t want to upset you.” I know that sounds like an excuse, and I guess it is. But it’s also true. It’s not like there’s anything she can do about what I’m seeing any more than I can.
“I’m probably going to have nightmares about it too, now,” she says.
“I’ll be the first one to know if you do,” I tell her. It’s a bad joke at an inappropriate time, but sometimes that’s the best way to break the tension. Sure enough she laughs, a lot harder than the joke deserved. That only lasts for a minute, though, then she’s serious again. Something else has occurred to her.
“You saw what I dreamed last night too, didn’t you?” She’s not going to let me weasel out of it, either. “Sara Barnes, you tell me!”
I can’t even lie and tell her I don’t remember, because she knows I remember all these dreams I’m seeing. It’s only my own I forget in the morning. “I don’t want to see it,” I tell her, just like I told her before Christmas. “What’s going on inside your head ought to be private. I hate that I’m seeing it.”
She softens a bit; she can see that I mean it. “I know you do. But,” and now there’s just a hint of a smile there, “you’re dodging the question. I don’t even know what I dreamed about, and you do. How fair is that? All I remember is clothes that didn’t fit right, and when I woke up my fingers hurt.”
I have to tell her, don’t I? So I do.
“I guess I really am jealous of you,” she says after I finish. “What else can it mean?” That’s extremely high praise, coming from Beth.
***
I don’t dream, as far as I can remember, and I don’t see anyone else’s dreams. I wake up well-rested and ready to face the day. I’m especially glad about that, since this is the day my boyfriend will be back. His flight is supposed to arrive at one-thirty in the afternoon, and I call the airline at noon to confirm it’s on schedule, which it is. I go back to the card I’ve been trying to finish writing all morning. I have to get it exactly right. I pick up where I left off.
“Your Christmas gift is the best and the most special one I’ve ever received. I’ve thought and thought about what I can give you in return, and I know now what it will be. I want to be your best, most special Christmas present. This year, and every year…”
I read it back over, several times. I
underline the “I want.” I think that says it perfectly. When I’m finished, I put the card in the envelope and seal it. I get everything else I need and head down to the lobby.
I stand right by the door and look over towards Allen House. I’m waiting until I see someone heading over there so I can follow them into the building. It takes ten minutes, but finally I see three people, all bundled up, walking that way and I make my move. They’re all too preoccupied with getting out of the cold to notice me sneaking in right behind them–it’s even worse now than it was in December, which doesn’t seem like it should be possible.
I go around to the back stairs and head up to Brian’s room. The credit card trick works just as easily as it did the other day and I go inside. I take the Christmas card with the note I wrote and tape it to the outside of the door. Then I go inside and I lock the door behind me.
I take off my coat and all the rest of my winter gear, and I don’t even realize I’m folding everything and hanging it up neatly until I’ve done it. Some habits run really deep, I guess. When that’s finished, I take off everything else I’m wearing - of course I fold all that up, too - and I get properly dressed for the surprise. I lie down on his bed to wait.
It’s almost three o’clock when I hear footsteps right outside the door. I hear Brian’s voice muttering “what the heck?” I hear the card being taken off the door and opened. There’s nothing for probably a minute, which feels to me like an hour, then there’s the key in the lock, the doorknob turning, and there he is. There’s my boyfriend, who I love, looking at me with a mix of confusion, amazement and desire on his face.
What he sees is me in nothing but the black lacy underwear from the Victoria’s Secret “naughty nighttime” collection I bought yesterday, and a Christmas bow tied around my neck. I’m lying in what I hope is a very seductive pose. The sight has him speechless, which is exactly how this was supposed to go.
“Did you read the card?” All he’s capable of is a barely perceptible nod of the head. “Good,” I tell him. “I meant every word.” The confusion slowly disappears from his face, and I repeat, just to make sure he’s got the point: “Every single word.”
He belatedly realizes that he’s still standing in the doorway; without taking his eyes off me, he reaches back, pulls the door closed and locks it. And then I show him just how much I meant everything I wrote.
***
It’s nearly eight o’clock. Brian’s just now nodded off, and I’m completely–not just exhausted, but drained. In the very best possible way.
Our first time, that first night in my room, my bed, it was something like this. But this was - more. So much more. I don’t know any better way to say it. That first night, we had a connection, and I needed him and I lost myself in the moment.
Today, now–it’s not just “a connection” anymore. I love him, but it’s not even just that. I trust him, more than I’ve ever trusted another person, more than I ever thought I could trust another person.
And I gave myself to him. Not just my body–that was the easy part–but everything else as well. I gave him my heart and my soul. And he gave me his heart and his soul in return. There were no fears, no worries, no questions. We could just feel. Just love and be loved. Just be, together.
I never imagined I could have something like this.
I’m lying next to him, halfway under the covers, just watching him sleep. I’ll let him sleep for a while, but not too long. I can feel my stomach starting to growl–we both need to eat something and get our strength back up.
As I just watch his chest move gently up and down, I hear a sound outside the door. Footsteps. Something heavy hitting the floor. Jangling keys. Then a knock. It brings me straight down to earth. So much for no fears, no worries, no questions.
Brian stirs, but doesn’t wake. Maybe they’ll go away, whoever they are.
Another knock–they’re not going away. More jangling keys. Then–oh, crap!–the key going in the lock, the doorknob turning. I pull the covers up to my neck as the door opens. Standing there in the doorway is someone I’ve never seen before. He doesn’t look much taller than me. He’s got light brown hair, and he’s looking at me wide-eyed from behind a pair of glasses too big for his face.
“Oh!” he says, going as red as I imagine I just have. “I didn’t know–I’ll come back!”
Brian’s still not quite awake. I try to put as much of a smile as I can on my face; I don’t want to make this any more awkward than it already is. “Hang on. Room 411? Allen House?”
The stranger nods. “I just got in. The RD gave me the keys, he didn’t think my roommate was back yet.” So much for Brian’s single room.
“Just give us five minutes,” I say, and I don’t really keep the disappointment out of my voice. “Go ahead and leave your stuff inside the door if you want.” He obediently shoves his bags inside and closes the door. “You might as well go downstairs, it’s more comfortable than standing in the hall. I promise, five minutes and I’ll be down, and you can come back up here and get moved in.”
He doesn’t answer; I hear receding footsteps and he’s gone. That’s when Brian finally stirs awake.
“What?” he mutters. “Thought I heard talking.”
I sit up. “You did. It’s bad news,” I tell him. “Apparently you’ve got a roommate. He just showed up.” Brian looks around the room, thoroughly confused. “I sent him downstairs. But we have to get dressed.” He watches me dress first, then pulls sweatpants and a t-shirt out of the closet and throws them on.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and then, very suddenly, he grabs me, and I feel myself melting into his arms as he kisses me. It takes all my willpower to pull away from him.
“I’m sorry, too.” It occurs to me that we could barricade the door and we’d have more time to ourselves. It would be so good, but–no.
I have to go. Now.
Brian wants to walk me downstairs, but I hold my hand up. “You might as well wait here. I’ll call you in the morning,” I say, and I kiss him quickly. “And I hope you liked your belated Christmas present!” His expression at that is just priceless. If I absolutely have to leave, this is as good a moment as any.
“I love you!” he calls out to me as I head down the stairs, and before we’re out of earshot I say it back. I come down into the lounge, and the roommate is sitting on the horrible orange couch.
“I’m really sorry,” he says, and he should be. Of course, I don’t say that.
Instead, I shake my head. “You couldn’t know. Don’t sweat it.” I’m just grateful he didn’t show up an hour earlier. The way things were going, neither Brian nor I would have heard him, and wouldn’t that have been some introduction?
He extends a hand. “Jason,” he says.
I shake it. “Sara.” I try to make myself believe my next words, or at least make them sound believable. “Pleased to meet you.”
***
Beth is laughing her head off. If this had happened to anyone else and I was just hearing the story rather than participating in it, I’d probably think it was funny, too. That isn’t any consolation at the moment, though.
“At least he didn’t interrupt…”
I go very red. “I thought about that already. I think I would have had to kill myself,” I say. “Or maybe him. Or him, and then myself.”
I see there’s an envelope on my desk; I’m happy for any distraction right now. “Yeah,” Beth says as I pick it up. “Looks like your mother got the pictures back.” I tear it open, and she’s right. There’s our Christmas tree, there’s Dad and Bob wearing their matching Santa hats, and there are several photos of Brian and me, all dressed up. I pass them over to Beth, who’s already holding her hand out for them.
She whistles. “Wow. You weren’t kidding. You really do look like a different person,” she says. “I thought I did a good job on you that
night we went downtown, but–God, that was nothing.”
“I didn’t recognize myself when I looked in the mirror,” I say, and then I tell her about Mrs. McGuire not recognizing me, and my Dad’s little joke. “Gretchen, that was the name he made up.”
Beth gives me what I can only call an “evil grin” and it occurs to me I probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. “I love it! It’s taken two and a half years, but I’ve finally got the perfect nickname for you. Gretchen!” I definitely shouldn’t have mentioned it.
***
Sara is in her dorm room, looking in the full-length mirror that Beth has hanging from the back of the closet door. She’s dressed for bed but the girl who stares back at her isn’t; she’s ready for a night out on the town. Sara’s hair is all over the place, and her eyes are barely open; the girl in the mirror has her hair styled perfectly, and her eyes are wide open and bright.
Sara looks down at herself; she’s still in her night shirt and pajama bottoms. She looks back up, and the girl in the mirror steps forward, out of the mirror and into the room. She says to Sara, “You can go to bed if you want, I’ve got better things to do.” The girl walks over to Beth’s bed, where Beth is asleep under the covers. She pulls the blankets up, and Beth is fully dressed, fully made up, and she snaps awake in an instant. The girl extends a hand and pulls her up.
“I was waiting for you, Gretchen,” Beth says while Sara watches, saddened but not at all surprised that her nonexistent older sister is stealing her best friend away. “Let’s go,” Beth says to her, and then, to Sara, “Sorry, you’ve been replaced.” Beth and Gretchen walk out, leaving Sara behind…
***
I open my eyes, and I can’t see anything–it’s pitch dark. No, there’s a little light, coming from under the door, and also from the glow of my alarm clock. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust. It’s three-thirty in the morning.
I wonder why I woke up? I don’t have to go to the bathroom. I’m not thirsty. It doesn’t make any sense. I look over at Beth’s bed, of course it’s empty–