My hand hovered indecisively over the phone, as if each of my fingers had taken a vote, decided that calling Brandon would be a poor plan, and mutinied. “It’s probably too late.”
“It’s barely eleven,” Lydia replied. “Early evening in college time.”
I willed my fingers to retrieve the phone then beat a hasty retreat into my bedroom.
“See what I mean?” I heard Lydia say as I shut the door.
I’d show her. I dialed his cell phone from memory, and Brandon picked up on the first ring.
“Hi, Amy.”
I was so unprepared, I couldn’t think of a response. “You rang?” Ugh. Well, that was rude of me. Not even a Hi, Brandon, how was your Winter Break? No wonder his girlfriend thinks I’m a bitch.
“Yes, I did, though I should have known you wouldn’t be home. It’s Sunday, after all.” He chuckled. Everyone on campus knew that Sunday nights were secret society meeting nights.
Time to get back on subject. “So, what’s up?” I kept my tone light. “Have a good break?” There. I could be polite.
“Wonderful. Felicity and I went to Tahoe.”
“Oh,” I said, and dropped onto my bed. “Nice.”
“Her family has a house out there. I was worried that I’d embarrass myself on the slopes, since she’s been skiing since birth, but…you’d never believe it. Did you know I’m a naturally talented skier?” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“I had no idea.” But it didn’t surprise me. Brandon was a natural at whatever he put his mind to. It was one of the things that made him so attractive. That and his complete lack of pretense. He was brilliant, but didn’t brag, popular, but not cliquish, comfortable in his skin, and utterly forthright about his needs and desires.
I know what you’re thinking: You idiot, Amy. It’s okay. I think that often enough myself.
“What were you up to?” he asked.
“The usuaclass="underline" family, carols, tree, stockings, too much fruitcake.”
“Any fruitcake is too much.”
“Agreed…I went to a party with some friends in Manhattan for New Year’s.”
“Nice. Anyone I know?”
“Maybe,” I said coyly. It was indeed possible he knew some of the Diggers in a barbarian capacity, but I wasn’t about to name names.
All in all, I was starting to feel okay about the conversation. Maybe we could move beyond our shared past and be friends, the way we used to be before we’d made the mistake of sleeping with each other. Once upon a time, he’d been among my closest college chums. But that was before Rose & Grave. Now I wasn’t sure anyone could take the place of my society brothers in my heart.
“So…” He hesitated. “I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch sometime soon. We have a lot to talk about.”
“We do.”
He was silent for a moment. “I mean, I heard through the grapevine you’re going out for some fellowships this semester. I am, too. I thought maybe we could help each other with our applications.”
Oh. “That would be great,” I choked out. But it would also be an exercise in humility. Last time Brandon and I had been in competition for something (the editorship of the Eli Literary Magazine), he’d almost beat me out while finishing a huge project for his Applied Math major. Seriously, the guy had brains in his toe joints. “You think you want to keep studying literature?”
“No, these are math fellowships. I just thought—”
“Yes. Sounds great,” I said, before he could change his mind. Whatever it took. The opportunity to hang out with Brandon was not easy to come by these days.
But why did he want to work with me instead of with Felicity?
“Good.” He sighed into the phone, as if he’d been holding his breath. “How about lunch tomorrow? I’m free at noon. Want to meet at Calvin College?”
His college’s dining hall. Interesting choice. There was a decided connotation associated with the location and timing of a dining hall date, and modern Eli students recognized the distinctions as easily as their forebears once understood the difference between events that called for them to dress in morning coats, dinner jackets, or white tie:
DINING HALL DATE RULES
Mutually Neutral Dining Hall
One Party’s “Home” Dining Hall
Dinner
Closest thing to a real date, except cheaper for everyone involved. Possibility of seeing/sitting with an acquaintance: negligible.
Almost as bad as brunch in a Home Dining Hall (see below). Possibility of playing off as “just friends,” if necessary: high. Possibility of sitting with a group of Home Party’s friends: very high.
Brunch
Either a business meeting or the aftermath of a one-night stand. You don’t want anyone to see you.
Official announcement of coupledom to the Home Party’s entire acquaintance. (This goes double if either Party has wet hair.)
Lunch
What the asker angles for if he or she can’t get the other Party to agree to to a real date, or even a Dining Hall Dinner.
So aboveboard, it’s sickening. Might as well have a sign saying, “Nothing see here, just grabbing a bite before our next class.” Possibility of sitting with friends: medium.
“Sounds good,” I said. “Remember to bring your apps.”
After we’d said our good-byes, I unearthed my applications from my pile of start-of-term paperwork and attempted to make it look as if I’d been doing serious work on them for the last few weeks. I made little headway, however, as my brain’s computing power was focused on Josh and Lydia and what they’d been saying about me. Naturally, it’s far worse to hear unpleasant things about yourself from people you know love you, because they aren’t saying it to be mean, nor are they prejudiced against your shimmering personality. No, your friends are telling the truth that you know deep down anyway—and my friends were saying I sucked at romance. To the point that they wouldn’t even try to set me up on a date. Wouldn’t risk subjecting their other friends to the horror that is me.
Cheer up, Amy. It’s not like this is anything new. I am well aware of my limitations when it comes to forming healthy relationships with the opposite sex. It’s why I’d tried to keep Brandon at arm’s length to start with. I knew getting involved with him would wreck our friendship, and it had. Last year at this time, he’d been buying me dinners at Thai restaurants. This year, I was braving my way through a cafeteria lunch where he had home-court advantage.
And I wouldn’t even have the comfort of my favorite pair of sneakers.
Later, when I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I noticed that Lydia and Josh were nowhere to be seen, and later still when I tucked myself into my narrow, extra-long single dorm bed, I heard them whispering softly through our shared wall.
Had things gone differently, would it be Brandon and me whispering late into the night? Would we still be together if I hadn’t accepted the tap from Rose & Grave? Would I be planning a career in publishing instead of looking at graduate fellowships? Would we be booking flights to Barcelona for an extended double date with Lydia and Josh?
Stupid to play what if games! I loved being a Digger. I loved my brothers, and the tomb, and the activities. I loved our tricks, and our raids, and our silly society games. I loved everything I’d learned about myself as a result of joining Rose & Grave.
But right then, one room away, there were people in love, and I’d never felt so alone in my life.
3. Conspiracy
Since my morning lecture in the English department building ended at eleven-thirty, I had the dubious pleasure of cooling my heels in the Rose & Grave tomb for half an hour before I was due to meet Brandon around the corner at Calvin College. I spent the time whipping myself into a frenzy of nerves and second-guessing my choice of outfit—which, Josh would be pleased to know, did not include my yellow sneakers. I fully admit that I’d dressed with more care than usual this morning, and even blow-dried my hair to give it extra body and shine.