Walking Disaster

The band played a rough version of “Auld Lang Syne,” and then Carissa’s lips smashed into mine. My mouth moved against hers for a moment, but her lips were so foreign, so different from what I was used to, it only made Abby’s memory more vivid, and the realization that she was gone more painful.

I pulled away and wiped my mouth with my sleeve.

“I’m so sorry,” Carissa said, watching me leave the table.

I pushed through the crowd to the men’s bathroom and locked myself in the only stall. I pulled out my phone and held it in my hands, my vision blurry and the rotten twang of tequila on my tongue.

Abby’s probably drunk, too, I thought. She wouldn’t care if I called. It’s New Year’s Eve. She might even be waiting for my call.

I scrolled over the names in my address book, stopping on Pigeon. I turned over my wrist, seeing the same inked into my skin. If Abby wanted to talk to me, she would have called. My chance had come and gone, and I told her at Dad’s I would let her move on. Drunk or not, calling her was selfish.

Someone knocked on the stall door. “Trav?” Shepley asked. “You okay?”

I unlocked the door and stepped outside, my phone still in my hand.

“Did you call her?”

I shook my head, and then looked to the tile wall across the room. I reared back, and then launched my phone, watching it shatter into a million pieces and scatter on the floor. Some poor bastard standing at the urinal jumped, his shoulders flying up to his ears.

“No,” I said. “And I’m not going to.”

Shepley followed me back to the table without a word. Carissa was gone, and three new shots were waiting for us.

“I thought she might get your mind off things, Trav, I’m sorry. It always makes me feel better to bag a really hot chick when I’ve been where you’re at,” Trenton said.

“Then you haven’t been where I’m at,” I said, slamming the tequila to the back of my throat. I stood up quickly, grabbing the edge of the table for stability. “Time for me to go home and pass out, boys.”

“You sure?” Trenton asked, looking mildly disappointed.

After Trenton got Cami’s attention long enough to say goodbye, we made our way to the Intrepid. Before he started the car, he looked over at me.

“You think she’ll ever take you back?”

“No.”

“Then maybe it’s time you accept that. Unless you don’t want her in your life at all.”

“I’m trying.”

“I mean when classes start. Pretend it’s like it was before you saw her naked.”

“Shut up, Trent.”

Trenton turned over the engine and put the car in reverse. “I was just thinking,” he said, turning the wheel, and then shoving the shifter into drive, “that you were happy when you guys were friends, too. Maybe you could go back to that. Maybe you thinking you can’t is why you’re so miserable.”

“Maybe,” I said, staring out the window.

THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING SEMESTER FINALLY ARRIVED. I hadn’t slept all night, tossing and turning, both dreading and eagerly anticipating seeing Abby again. Regardless of my sleepless night, I was determined to be all smiles, never letting on how much I’d suffered, to Abby or anyone else.

At lunch, my heart nearly exploded out of my chest when I saw her. She looked different, but the same. The difference was that she seemed like a stranger. I couldn’t just walk up to her and kiss her or touch her like before. Abby’s big eyes blinked once when she saw me, and I smiled and winked back, sitting at the end of our usual table. The football players were busy bitching about their loss to State, so I tried to relieve their angst by telling them some of my more colorful experiences over break, like watching Trenton salivate over Cami, and the time that his Intrepid broke down and we were almost arrested for public intoxication while walking home.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Finch hug Abby to his side, and for a moment I wondered if she wished I would go away, or if she might be upset.

Either way, I hated not knowing.

Throwing the last bite of something deep-fried and disgusting into my mouth, I tossed my tray and walked up behind Abby, resting my hands on her shoulders.

“How’s your classes, Shep?” I asked, willing my voice not to sound anything but casual.

Shepley’s face pinched. “First day sucks. Hours of syllabi and class rules. I don’t even know why I show up the first week. How about you?”

“Eh . . . it’s all part of the game. How ’bout you, Pidge?” I tried not to let the tension in my shoulders affect my hands.

“The same.” Her voice was small, distant.

“Did you have a good break?” I asked, playfully swaying her from side to side.

“Pretty good.”

Yeah. This was awkward as f**k.

“Sweet. I’ve got another class. Later.” I walked out of the cafeteria quickly, reaching for the Marlboro box in my pocket before I even shouldered through the metal doors.

The next two classes were torture. The only place that felt like a safe haven was my bedroom, away from campus, away from everything that reminded me that I was alone, and away from the rest of the world, which was continuing on, not giving a shit that I was in so much pain it was palpable. Shepley kept telling me it wouldn’t be so bad after a while, but it didn’t seem to be letting up.

I met my cousin in the parking lot in front of Morgan Hall, trying hard not to stare at the entrance. Shepley seemed on edge and didn’t talk much on the ride to the apartment.

When he pulled into his parking spot, he sighed. I debated whether or not to ask him if he and America were having problems, but I didn’t think I could handle his shit and mine.

I grabbed my backpack from the backseat and pushed the door open, stopping only long enough to unlock the door.

“Hey,” Shepley said, shutting the door behind him. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” I said from the hallway, not turning around.

“That was kind of awkward in the cafeteria.”

“I guess,” I said, taking another step.

“So, uh . . . I should probably tell you something I overheard. I mean . . . hell, Trav, I don’t know if I should tell you or not. I don’t know if it’ll make it worse or better.”

I turned around. “Overheard from who?”

“Mare and Abby were talking. It was . . . mentioned that Abby’s been miserable all break.”

I stood in silence, trying to keep my breathing even.

“Did you hear what I said?” Shepley asked, his brows pulling together.

“What does that mean?” I asked, throwing my hands up. “She’s been miserable without me? Because we’re not friends anymore? What?”

Shepley nodded. “Definitely a bad idea.”

“Tell me!” I yelled, feeling myself shake. “I can’t . . . I can’t keep feeling like this!” I threw my keys down the hall, hearing a loud crack when they made contact with the wall. “She barely acknowledged me today, and you’re telling me she wants me back? As a friend? The way it was before Vegas? Or is she just miserable in general?”

“I don’t know.”

I let my bag fall to the floor and kicked it in Shepley’s general direction. “Wh-why are you doing this to me, man? Do you think I’m not suffering enough, because I promise you, it’s too much.”