Chapter Eighteen
Bea
Bea wished she were the kind of person who always had limes on hand for cocktails. She ran a damp paper towel around the rims of the glasses before dipping them in salt for margaritas. Ben had always been good about keeping this kind of thing in the fridge; last time she and Heron had a girls night, she’d made an offhand comment about wanting to make old-fashioneds and Ben had left a container of beautifully curled orange peel in the fridge and a new bottle of fancy bitters on the counter before retiring to his own apartment for the night.
That had been the night before Heron’s shower, the night before everything changed. Well, it had changed again. Friday movie night was going to be a celebration this week because things were finally looking up. They’d drink to Heron’s code of conduct triumph and Bea’s tenure. Maggie and Sarah were coming, too, to make it even more festive.
“Come on in,” she called when she heard a thump at the door. “I’m back here.”
Maggie appeared, carrying a grocery sack, and followed, as she usually was these days, by Bryant, who held a foil-covered casserole dish.
Before the words “girls’ night” could escape Bea’s lips, Bryant said, “I’m not staying. I’m only here to carry things.” Maggie looked at him with moony eyes. At least someone’s relationship had survived the spring. Was thriving, in fact—these two clearly adored each other. “Actually,” he continued, “I made you ladies something. My parents work a lot so I’m in charge of family dinners when I’m home. My sisters love this. We call it nacho-tacos. They should go in the oven for about half an hour. And there are toppings.” Bea peeked under the foil and saw rows of taco shells, already filled with meat and cheese.
“That is…not something I would expect of a frat guy,” Bea said, taking out a cutting board to slice the lettuce and tomatoes Maggie set on the counter. “But I’ll take it.”
“Not a frat guy anymore, actually,” Bryant said. “I resigned my SOD membership.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not sorry. I ignored a lot of stuff and I’m done ignoring it. How they treated me, what they did to Heron, what they did to Maggie. I don’t want to be part of that anymore.”
“Good for you.”
“Hello,” Heron called from the front room.
“We’re in the kitchen.”
“Hey guys,” Heron said to Maggie and Bryant. “Did you tell her?” Maggie shook her head, and Heron said, “I’m moving back into the apartment. I so appreciate being able to stay here, and at Dad’s, when things were tough. But I feel better, and I can’t hide from Charlie forever. There’s only a month left of school, but…I don’t want to miss out on any more. My last semester of college is supposed to be fun, and I intend to enjoy the rest of it.”
If Heron believed she was up for this, Bea would have to trust she was. She knew Maggie was good support and it sounded like Bryant was, too.
“So, anyway,” Heron continued, “I have some stuff here I need to pack up.”
“If you do it now, I can take some things back to the apartment with me,” said Bryant.
“Really? That would be great.”
“I’ll help you,” Maggie said. She and Heron disappeared upstairs.
“So, leaving SOD,” Bea said. “Quite a big deal when you only have a month left.”
Bryant took the knife she handed him and started chopping tomatoes while she washed the lettuce. “Ben called our national office for me. I’ll get to keep my alumni status. I’m only resigning from this chapter. I’m not really sure it matters, but it might be helpful for networking.”
Bea felt a tug at Ben’s name. “That’s nice.” She shook the extra water off the lettuce, and began tearing the leaves off, laying them on a paper towel.
“Yeah, so, um, Ben has been pretty great in general, actually. He told me he considered resigning as alumni advisor but didn’t want us to end up with someone who would look the other way regarding bad behavior.”
“I see.”
“He also made Charlie resign as president. Austin Chafee was elected for next year and he’s already stepped up. Charlie moved out of the big room and into Austin’s, which is in the basement.”
Bea snorted with satisfied amusement.
“I know. He’s not getting expelled like Jason, but at least it is something.”
“Jason is getting expelled?” Wow.
“Yeah. Austin told me. He found out this morning. Jason has to be out of the house by Sunday night.”
“Heron!” Bea yelled up the stairs, “Get down here. We have some news.”
Heron
Heron already knew about Jason’s expulsion. The thing about the Messiman rumor mill was that sometimes it worked in your favor as well as against you. She hadn’t gotten the official email from Dean Lucas until mid-afternoon, but she’d been catching knowing grins across campus all day. The administrative office’s work-study students must have gotten wind, and from there the rumor would likely have propagated quickly.
Bryant excused himself when Sarah arrived, saying, “I’ve got studying to do and I’d better enjoy the empty apartment while I can.” Then he said to Maggie, “I’ll come back to walk you and Heron home. Text me when you’re ready.”
“That,” said Sarah after the door closed behind him, “is a nice boy.”
“I know,” sighed Maggie.
Heron wondered what things would be like for her if Bryant had asked her to fall formal freshman year instead of Charlie. But that might mean he wouldn’t be with Maggie now, and they seemed like they might be in it for the long haul.
They’d decided on a Reese Witherspoon marathon. Heron picked Pleasantville to watch while they ate tacos because she loved the costumes and production. Maggie thought the manipulation in Cruel Intentions would hit a little too close to home and Bea vetoed Just Like Heaven with a margarita-fueled cry of “This is a now a Ruffalo-free household!” So next they watched Legally Blonde.
“A classic,” Maggie said, selecting it from the streaming menu.
During the first scenes, when Warner dumped Elle, Heron caught Bea shooting little concerned glances her way. She couldn’t blame Bea for seeing some parallels. And then, as Elle began to study for the LSAT, she saw parallels herself.
After all the time she’d spent—wasted—studying with Charlie, what score might she be able to get? She’d sometimes suspected she had a firmer grasp on the topics than Charlie. She hadn’t wanted to steal his thunder, but that wasn’t something she needed to worry about anymore. A plan began to take shape.
Bea
Bryant came back at one in the morning to walk Heron and Maggie home, and then it was just Bea and Sarah with the dregs of the margaritas and the last half of Sweet Home Alabama.
“She seems better,” Sarah said, her words slowed by tequila.
“Yeah. I think she’s going to be okay. Thank heavens.”
Sarah switched the TV off. “And how are you?”
“Me? I’m fine as long as Heron’s fine.”
“So, no more swanning about in Halloween costumes for you?”
“Honestly, I answer the door dressed unconventionally one time.”
Sarah’s face grew serious. “Bea, I know you’ve been worried about Heron, but you ended a relationship this spring, too, and you can’t fool me into believing that’s not a big deal for you.”
“Oh.” Bea shrugged, standing to fold an afghan. “It’s fine, I’m fine. Really, it’s better. I think I was right all along, you know. Some people are better suited to being alone, and I’m one of them. I miss a few things I can’t do by myself—not sex,” she said, catching Sarah’s raised eyebrow. “I mean yes, I do miss the sex but I’m perfectly competent with…self-care. But kissing? I miss kissing. I miss having someone to hug me when I’ve had a shitty day. I miss…having someone around who would remember to buy limes.”
“Oh, honey, I’ll buy you limes.”
“I know you will. I guess I’m just saying, some of those companionship things. You know?”
“I do know.”
“But I guess I am a little more open to dating now. I think my problem was that I got too attached to Ben, too quickly. I got used to the idea of having him as a partner and then when it didn’t work out, I felt lost. I wouldn’t mind being like one of those great old-timey dames who has a fabulous life all on her own, but also a devoted man friend for occasional dinners or traveling.”
“Well…we do have a new physical therapist at work. Early forties, I think. Divorced, kids in high school. Super nice guy, he’s been bringing tulips from his yard in for the residents. He asked me to dinner, so we know his taste is good even if he isn’t the most perceptive. When I turned him down, he asked if I had any friends who might be interested. He’s new in town and I think he’s lonely.”
It was probably the lingering effects of the tequila that made Bea say, “Why not?” She was sober enough to add, “But just a casual lunch.” How much harm could a lunch do?
Heron
It didn’t take Heron and Maggie very long to switch their things from room to room. Maggie’s futon turned out to be pretty comfortable for sleeping. She liked how she could drop her book and phone on the floor and still be able to reach them, how through the down-slanted blinds she could see trees and sky outside the window. And she liked how it felt more slapdash and less grown-up than her big bed. The futon only had room for her.
Taking a bag of recycling to the dumpster in back, she rounded the corner and bumped into Jason. He was pale, his hair greasy, almost like a person who’d been ill. He smiled when he saw her in a way that flooded her with the urge to turn, run, or shove him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, speaking carefully to keep the tremble out of her voice.
“Jesus, relax,” Jason said. “The trash is full at the SOD house and I’m cleaning out my room there. I thought it would be okay if I put some of the extra in here. You’re not going to report me, are you?”
“No.” She tried to step around him, but he moved to the middle of the path. To get by, she would need to squeeze herself between him and the brick wall of the building.
“And actually,” he said, stepping forward a bit to put a hand on her arm, “I wanted to thank you.”
It was only a couple of fingertips on her forearm, but she jerked away, causing the cans and bottles in her bag to clink. He smiled, and her skin crawled.
“Thank me?” She kept her tone flat, not letting her pitch rise at the end of the question.
“Yeah.” His grin widened. “My expulsion means I won’t graduate this year, sure, but that’s no big deal. It was worth it to show everybody you’re not such an angel after all, and to knock golden boy Charlie Brewster down a few pegs.” He laughed, an unappealing cackle. “High school seniors are deciding where to go right now, and what do they see when they google Messiman College? Articles about the growing phenomena of ‘Revenge Porn.’ My name’s not in them, but my stepmother’s is. It doesn’t look so great for her. And what do I get? A do-over senior year at USC, living with my dad who lets me do whatever I want. So, anyway, thanks. A whole year of California girls, who I bet aren’t cock-teasing little bitches like you.”
He stepped around her. Heron shrunk into the hedge and a sharp branch poked at her back. At least she wasn’t trapped against the unyielding wall of the building, but he still passed closely enough for her to smell the sour beer odor of his breath. He paused in front of her and made eye contact.
Heron rolled her shoulders back, planted her feet, and held his gaze. She was prepared to hit him if she needed to, but he didn’t move any closer.
She said, “Okay. Best wishes for your future. I hope you get everything you deserve.”
Jason looked at her a beat longer as if trying to gauge her sincerity. She did mean what she said—she truly hoped Jason’s future was full of people seeing him for the devious jerk he was—precisely what he deserved. It took all her willpower, but she continued to hold eye contact until he turned around and walked out to the street.
Shaking, she stood for a moment catching her breath and staving off a flood of guilt. She hadn’t meant for any of this to hurt President Phillips, she felt awful that she’d been a pawn for Jason to use to hurt Charlie.
Then, outrage swept over her like a tide, replacing the fear and guilt. Charlie had only been hurt because he didn’t trust her, didn’t believe in her, didn’t see her for who she really was. Maggie was right, when she’d made that crack about Heron’s caretaking tendencies. Charlie had only thought of Heron in terms of what she could offer him. And if the college president’s family matters were impacting her professionally, Heron couldn’t be held responsible for that, either. As for Jason, he could think whatever he wanted about a twisted bright side for himself, but she had a hard time picturing him getting the carefree California life he’d described.
Bea
Sarah’s coworker, Owen, called Bea promptly to politely invite her to lunch. When he suggested Mostarda, she thought it would be better to seem easygoing and agreeable than explain why she preferred a place with fewer ex-boyfriend associations. And so, she found herself walking there after her eleven o’clock class.
She saw Ben come out of the art supply store down the block, but it would have been awkward to cross the street to avoid him, then cross again to go into the restaurant. It was even more awkward when they both turned in under the Mostarda awning. He flushed pink and said, “Whoops. Uh…I’ll go to the cafe on campus.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said.
“Me, silly? Wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t want to seem like I’m invading your space.” His expression was friendly and neutral but there was an edge to the tone of the last sentence.
She couldn’t blame him. She’d been childish that day in the cafe when she lashed out. It had all still been so fresh. “Look, I’m sorry about that. I was still feeling a little raw. We can probably be in the same room without either of us spontaneously combusting.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve missed you, Bea.” Oh, there were the eye crinkles, there was his wry, slow smile.
“Don’t get carried away.” She wasn’t sure if she was saying it to Ben or to herself. “But I missed you, too. I hate having to choose between the turkey sandwich and the spinach salad.” Mostarda’s two best lunch entrees—they’d regularly ordered one of each and split them.
“Do you want to join me for lunch, then? We can get the indecisive person’s special.”
“I would, but I’m meeting someone.” Bea wouldn’t have chosen to run into him on the way to her date, but she didn’t totally hate the idea of him seeing her with someone new.
“Ah. Well, have a nice lunch.”
“Take care, Ben.”
“You too.”
Ben got in line, while Bea located Owen at a table in the middle of the room. He was easily recognizable by the Sunset Home logo on his fleece vest, but she probably would have pinpointed him anyway. He definitely had the look of a former athlete softening into early middle age, a little puffy but retaining the bearing of a jock. He stood to shake her hand, nearly crushing it. “I’ll go put our order in. What would you like?”
“A turkey sandwich on sourdough, please. And a seltzer. Thank you.”
“That sounds good. I’ll get the same thing.”
Owen ended up in line directly behind Ben, who made a face at her and then, to Bea’s profound mortification, turned around and introduced himself. Oh god, she couldn’t look. She couldn’t hear them over the din of the cafe, and she wasn’t sure whether that was a blessing or a curse. Ben got a cup of soup to go and smirked at her as he left the restaurant.
Owen returned to the table with their drinks. “I just met one of your coworkers.”
“Mm,” she said, hoping she sounded casual. “Yeah, that was Ben.”
“He invited me to join his poker game.”
She almost shot seltzer out of her nose, recovering by making it look like a cough. “Wrong pipe,” she wheezed. Owen handed her a napkin.
Owen turned out to be perfectly nice: from his desire to work with the elderly (“I hurt myself playing football at the same time my grandma broke her hip, and we ended up going to physical therapy together.”); to his daughters (“Jessica plays volleyball and is in choir, Alexandra wants to be a programmer and is in chess club.”); to his divorce (“We just grew apart, I guess. Her new husband is a real nice guy, and we all went on a cruise together last year.”). Everything about Owen was nice, the way a bowl of plain noodles with butter is nice. Bland, comforting, you can be absolutely sure it’s not going to upset your stomach, but missing something. Still, he seemed to enjoy her company and after so many years on her own before Ben, it was nice to know she had options.
Heron
Heron only needed another forty-five minutes and she’d be done with her very last college assignment, the final paper for her Marriage and the Family class. Despite the notification that her thesis had passed with honors marks and she’d be graduating at least magna cum laude, Heron wanted her GPA to be as high as possible upon graduation. She was studying more diligently for finals than she had any other semester. Without wedding planning to distract her, or needing to help Charlie study, she could focus all her energy on her own classes.
She was in her favorite corner of the library, typing furiously about the gender pay gap and caregiver duty distribution, when she heard, “Hey.”
She looked up. Charlie. “Oh, hey.”
“I was in one of the study rooms, and I thought, I bet Heron’s at her table, and here you are.”
She shrugged. “Here I am. I’m actually almost done and I—”
He scraped out a chair and sat down. “So, listen, before we graduate, I wanted to say I’m sorry about all the stuff that went down this semester. I know some of it was my fault.”
All of it was his fault, but saying so wouldn’t make a difference, so she said, “Mm hmm.”
“And I hope it didn’t impact your grades too much. I’ve realized having so much personal turmoil during a time where your academic performance can impact your entire future isn’t wise.” He sounded like his father.
She gave him a weak, self-effacing smile. “That’s probably true, but I’m graduating with honors.” Personally, she was still only so-so, but she wasn’t going to tell Charlie that. After her run in with Jason she hadn’t been able to go around the back of the building without a fluttering heart and sweaty palms, but she was managing with exercises from her therapist.
Charlie chuckled bitterly and said, “Of course you are. Wouldn’t want anything to get in your way.”
She looked him in the eye and said evenly, “I found myself with a lot of spare time to study over spring break.”
“Right.”
He made no move to get up. She sighed and said, “How about you?”
“Not so good. I have a C average this semester, but I’ll graduate. Apparently, I was lucky not to get expelled.” He paused, as if waiting for her to say something.
Surely he didn’t expect her to apologize? Heron remained quiet.
Two juniors walked past, girls who’d been in Ben’s book arts class with Heron and Charlie last fall. “Hey Heron,” they said, before cutting cold glares at Charlie. This sort of thing had been happening a lot lately. She’d been pleasantly surprised that campus sentiment seemed to be on her side.
Charlie seemed slightly flummoxed by the girls’ open disdain but flashed them a political-candidate grin before continuing, “I can still go to Columbia though, so it’s okay. Dad says they are usually pretty reluctant to withdraw an acceptance, especially for a legacy.”
“That’s good.”
He stood. “I guess I’ll see you around. Congratulations on the honors.”
“Thanks.”
Heron drummed her fingers on the home keys of her laptop, trying to remember the rest of the sentence she’d been in the middle of when Charlie appeared. Against her better judgement, she missed him and felt wistful about the loss of the version of this time she’d pictured for so long: graduation followed by a wedding, looking ahead to a bright future with Charlie. But the fun, romantic, spontaneous guy she’d been swept away by four years ago bore little resemblance to the person she’d just had a conversation with. She didn’t expect to see that version of Charlie again.
Bea
Bea’s perfectly nice lunch with Owen had led to a perfectly nice trip to a minor league baseball game. Now he was taking her home from a perfectly nice dinner date. While she was getting ready, her gaze had fallen on the blue velvet dress, but she’d pushed it aside in favor of slinky jeans, heeled sandals, and a silky, plum-colored top.
Owen walked her to her door and after she fished her keys out of her purse, he touched her cheek, leaned in, and kissed her. His other hand entwined with her free one, which, she thought objectively was a pretty good move. He was a good kisser, too. Not too much pressure, lips soft but not wet. It was right after he pulled away a little, then moved in again with tongue that she realized she didn’t feel a thing. Not one single hint of the electricity that had thrummed through her body when Ben so much as touched her hand.
Gently, she put a hand on his chest. “Owen, stop.”
His retreat was one of a man who’d spent a lot of time talking about consent with his teenage daughters. He let go of her hand and took an immediate step backwards. “Sorry. You seemed receptive.”
“Yes. I mean, I was, but…It’s just that I am not really feeling the chemistry. It’s not you. You’re great.”
His face fell. “It’s not me, it’s you?”
Bea smiled in an attempt to lessen the blow. “Something like that. I have had a very nice time.”
He waved her off, “It’s fine.”
“Can we be friends?”
With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he said, “I have a lot of friends, Bea.”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.” He turned and shuffled down her walkway, back to his car.
Inside, Bea checked her texts.
Sarah had already written to ask, “How’d the third date go???”
Bea answered, “No spark. Sent him home.”
“Spark is key.”
“Yeah.”
The spark, she thought, as she fed Herschel and put on her pajamas, was the one thing she couldn’t do for herself. She could find friends to have a meal with, to go to a baseball game with should she ever be inclined to repeat that experience. But she couldn’t surprise herself the way Ben surprised her. No one could make her laugh, or laughed with her, the way he did. And he was definitely the only person who’d ever, with the simplest touch, made her feel like the actual current in her body had been dialed up.
Someone like Owen, who was pleasant and kind, might have been a good enough substitute, a little companionship to keep her from feeling lonely, now that her time with Ben had made her a little less inclined to be satisfied with her own company. But no, the experiment with Owen had only confirmed being alone was better than being with a person who didn’t deliver the full package.
Bea hated how the time she’d spent with Ben made her independence seem less satisfying, shown her more was possible, only to leave a void after they were over. She knew she’d get over it in time, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to.