The Rules of Attraction (Page 86)

While in bed, later, we hear someone knocking on the door.

Gerald goes, “Sssshhhh.”

I get up and pull my jeans on and a sweater. I open the door. It’s Sean, not the Korean. He’s holding a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and a box with The Smiths playing. “Can I come in?” he whispers.

“Wait.” It’s dark behind me. He can’t see anything. “I’ll come out,” I say.

I close the door and put my boots on, grabbing my coat, any coat, from the darkness of the closet. Gerald asks, “Who in the hell is it?”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell him.

He says, “You better.”

Sean and I end up walking through the woods near campus. It’s snowing lightly and not too cold, the moon is high and full and makes the ground glow white. The Smiths are singing “Reel Around the Fountain.” He hands me the bottle. I tell him, “I find myself talking to you when you’re not around. Just talking. Carrying on conversations.” I really don’t, but it just seems like the thing to say and he’s really so much better-looking than Gerald.

“I wish you wouldn’t tell me shit like that,” he says. “It’s creepy. It weirds me out.”

Later, we make love in the snow. Afterwards I tell him I have tickets for the REM concert in Hanover next week. He covers his face with his hands.

“Listen,” he says, getting up. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I say. “Things like this happen.”

“I don’t want to go with you.”

“I don’t want things to turn out this way,” I warn him.

“I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“Yeah? Well, is there…” I stop. “Can you do anything about it?”

He pauses, then, “No, I guess I can’t. Not anymore.”

I tell him, “But I want to know you. I want to know who you are.”

He flinches and turns to me and says, raising his voice at first and then letting it drop softer, “No one will ever know anyone. We just have to deal with each other. You’re not ever gonna know me.”

“What in the hell does that mean?” I ask.

“It just means you’re not ever gonna know me,” he says. “Figure it out. Deal with it.”

It’s quiet, it stops snowing. From where we lay we can see the campus, lit, postcard-perfect, through the trees. The tape clicks off, and then automatically turns itself over. He finishes the Jack Daniel’s and walks away. I walk back to my room, alone. Gerald has left, leaving me a long note, describing how much of an ass**le I am. But it doesn’t matter because there was something fun about tonight, in the snow, drunk, not with the Korean guy.

LAUREN It happens quite suddenly, while we’re at the Winter Carnival in town.

Earlier we had a half-hearted attempt at a snowfight on Commons lawn (actually I threw a snowball at his head; he didn’t have enough energy to make one, let alone throw one at me), then we drove in the friend’s MG to town and had brunch. After making out on the ferris wheel and smoking pot in the funhouse, I tell him. I tell him while we’re waiting for fried dough. I could have told him the truth, or I could have broken it off with him, or I could have gone back to Franklin. But none of those options seemed likely in the end, and there was a good chance none of them would have worked out. I stare at him. He’s stoned and holding a Def Leppard cocaine mirror that he won by throwing baseballs at tin milk bottles. He smiles as he pays for the fried dough.

S: What do you want to do when we get back?

Me: I don’t know.

S: Should we buy the eighth or rent a movie or what?

Me: I don’t know.

S: What is it? What’s your problem?

Me: I’m pregnant.

S: Really?

Me: Yes.

S: Is it mine?

Me: Yes.

S: Is it really mine?

Me: Listen, I’m going to … “deal with it” so don’t worry.

S: No. Don’t. You’re not.

Me: What? Why not?

S: Listen, I have an idea.

Me: You have an idea?

S: Let’s get married.

Me: What are you talking about?

S: Marry me. Let’s get married.

Me (unsaid): It could be Franklin’s and there’s always the possibility it could actually be Sean’s. But I was very late and had been carrying for a long time and I cannot remember when it was Sean and I met. It could also be Noel’s, though that’s unlikely and it could also be the Freshman Steve’s, but that’s even unlikelier. It could also be Paul’s. Those are the only people I’ve been with this term.