21. Lydia
Brandy hasn’t spoken to me since the party a few days ago. I mean, she’s said words, just has not bugged me about any future opportunities to check items off our list. I don’t feel in the mood to talk to her either. I said an awful thing to her, yes. But she exposed me to Cameron, which did more than piss me off. It hurt someone I care about. If we’re playing the silent game, I will totally participate.
I grab my backpack and shove a notebook into it along with a pen and some water. Mondays and Thursdays are probably the most boring days of the week all thanks to Novak’s writing class. Tamara makes it more bearable, but there is only so much she can do while Novak goes on for nearly two hours about how important it is to cite your sources or include page numbers or his weekend epiphany. You don’t wanna know.
There is a light tap on the door, and a small feminine voice that accompanies it. “Hey, girls, RA Kelly.” Both Brandy and I go to the door, but I open it. Ha!
I hold back a laugh when I see Kelly dressed in a white gown with Princess Leia buns covering her ears. On her waist is a belt with a lightsaber secured in it. She smiles brightly and hands me a flier. “Hey. I hope all is well. This week we are holding a family friendly Halloween party. Everyone is invited, but no alcohol will be permitted. Just some old-fashioned fun.” I want to tell her there will be alcohol either way but restrain myself.
“Sweet,” Brandy says.
“Thanks. I like your costume.”
Kelly giggles. “Thank you. I gotta get people in the spirit.”
“What are you dressed as?” Brandy asks innocently.
I give her a judgmental look. “A potato farmer,” I remark sarcastically.
Brandy frowns, knowing I’m being smart with her but not knowing why she deserves it.
Kelly laughs. “I hope to see you there.”
“We’ll be there,” Brandy says.
I won’t be. After the situation with Cameron, I think I need a party hiatus until I figure out how to apologize to him. She can go by herself for all I care.
After Kelly leaves, I grab my backpack, phone, keycard, and approach the door. “Where are you going?” Brandy asks, the friendliness gone from her voice.
“Class.”
“Are you getting breakfast?”
“No time. See ya.”
I make it to the lobby in peace until a call from David interrupts it all. I push myself out the door and put the phone to my ear. “What?” I say, skipping a friendly greeting.
He doesn’t waste time either. “I’m going home this weekend, and you should come.”
“Why?”
“I thought it would be nice to support them in a time like this. They may have made a decision.”
“No.”
“You cannot just pretend this isn’t happening.”
“Bye.”
“Lainey. I swear to God. You need to stop acting like a child. This is serious. If not for Mom, come for Dad.” David sounds a lot like he is trying to tell me what to do.
“I have a party,” I lie.
“Is that more important than your family?”
“It’s more important than this conversation. If they want to get divorced, I want no part in it. I don’t support it, and I will not pretend to.”
“Lainey, please,” he pleads. “You’ve never been in love, so you don’t understand. This is not all black and white.”
“Insulting me is not the way to convince me of anything.”
“Lainey.”
“If you love someone, it shouldn’t matter that you can’t have sex every night. You don’t leave them!”
“For fuck’s sake!” David yells.. “It was never about sex and you goddamn know it!”
“Leave me alone forever,” I say viciously into the phone.
He hangs up on me, but I’m not filled with any sort of satisfaction. Is there a slight possibility I’m the stubborn one? That I’m wrong? That I in fact do know what David is accusing me of knowing? It’s better if everything was just simple, and maybe that’s what I am trying to manifest.
When I get to Novak’s class, he greets me with a half nod and the slightest raise of his eyebrow. I check the time on my phone. Shit. I’m two minutes late, and by the look on his face, he was waiting. What kind of wacko does that?
I awkwardly take the seat behind Tamara as Novak stands from his desk. “All right. First, can I have your papers on sexism in Jane Eyre?”
Like the rest of the class, I go to grab my paper from my bag until I see I only have one item in here aside from water and a pen. A notebook. My history notebook, notmy paper. And despite Novak’s constant rambling about hard copies over electronic submissions, I haven’t printed mine out. I don’t even have my laptop to print it in the writing lab. Slight panic causes my chest to tighten. I was so bent on finishing that when I did, I completely walked away from it. I didn’t even save it to a flash drive.
When he gets to my desk, he holds his hand out.
I shake it. “Great morning, huh?”
Some peers around me titter. Tamara briefly looks over her shoulder, an amused grin on her face.
Novak releases my hand, no reaction to my random physical contact. “Your paper, please.”
I hold up my blue ballpoint pen. “Can I interest you in a pen instead?”
“No.”
I trade the pen for my bottle of water. “Water?”
“I’d prefer your in-depth analysis of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre.”
“Can I interest you in a digital version after class?”
He sighs. “You know I only accept hard copies.”
That’s bad for the environment.
I give him a guilty look. He slowly blinks his eyes as if this is not worth the fight. “I need it after class. Hard copy. Drop in my mailbox before noon. That’s when I leave for the day.”
“But this class ends at noon.”
A flicker of a smile crosses his face. “Then you better hope I finish up early.” With that he moves on to the next student.
Once he begins his lecture, Tamara slides a piece of paper onto my desk. I open my notebook and place it on top.
It reads in superb handwriting:
Going to Santa Monica Pier tonight with some friends. I’d love for you to attend.
I yank the cap off my pen and scribble something below her writing.
That sounds like fun. Do I know any of these friends?
I drop the paper on the ground and use my foot to push it up by the foot of Tamara’s chair, and I tap her shoulder. She follows my eyes and bends down to retrieve it. Seconds later, she briefly turns around to hand me the note.
Mikey. Cameron might show up but he’s been kind of depressed. A couple of others you might not know too.
Oh. Well. IDK. It sounds really fun, but Mikey and I aren’t on great terms. Neither are Cameron and I.
Shit. We don’t need to hang with them. You could go in disguise LOL. What happened with Cam? :(
I’ll tell you later. LMAO Maybe I should. Pull a Hannah Montana.
At my last note she turns around and gives me a wink. I assume she was joking about going in disguise, and she probably was, but now it sounds kinda fun. Plus it’s almost Halloween.
After Novak dismisses us, I quickly tell Tamara to text me with details, then I hightail it out of there. Novak ended class ten minutes early, which barely allows me enough time to run to my room, grab my laptop, and rush to the writing lab to print it. This man will be the death of me.
I’m already out of breath when I make it to our dorm building. I swipe my card and pull open the entrance door. There’s already a group of lazy people by the elevators, so my best bet is to just run up the stairs. Right as I walk through the stairwell door, I am greeted by Cameron’s firm, tall, attractive body. I move to my right. He moves left, unintentionally blocking my way. I move to my left, and he moves right. We do this dance a couple more times before he speaks. “How about we both go right?”
“Good idea,” I say with an awkward laugh. We get out of each other’s way, then I speed walk to the steps.
“Where’s the fire?” he asks.
I breathe heavily. “I don’t have time to talk,” I say. I realize a second later how dismissive that is.
“Of course,” he says quietly. “I should have remembered you have more important things to do.”
“Cameron, not now,” I say as I start running up the stairs.
I make it to the room, grab my laptop, a flash drive from my desk, then bolt out the door again. I nearly fall down three steps but catch myself at the last second. If I break a leg because of Novak, he will be paying for my hospital bills, or I’ll take him to court.
As I run outside, I see Cameron walking at a normal-person pace outside. Must be nice to take your time.
“On your right!” I call as I pass him. He says something, but I don’t catch it.
I reach the English and Writing building and throw myself violently against the door before I remember it’s a pull. Damn.
I run to the lab and print my paper. I look at my phone. Five minutes after noon. I’m already late. I yank the papers from the printer, still hot, and staple. Nice. I speed walk down the stairs where Novak’s office is. Before I enter, I bend over, hands on my knees. I can hear my pulse, and my throat hurts. I take a couple of deep breaths then step into his office. I begin my search for his mailbox but find nothing. Shit. Are professor mailboxes even in their office? Or are they in the student center? Or the academic advising rooms by the library? A slight panic hits me. I sprinted all the way across campus for this shit.
Not too far away, I hear a low whistle. A man whistling. My back facing the door, the whistling grows louder and closer. I whip around to see Novak strolling into the room. He spots me but continues the journey to his desk chair. “How can I help you?”
“I…have…my…paper,” I say, still trying to catch my breath.
“Great.” He smiles brightly and reaches over his desk for it. I hand it to him.
“Sorry, I ran here because I thought you left at noon.”
“I just say that to motivate,” he says.
“Oh.” I sigh.
“I say a great deal to motivate, but I’m pretty accommodating.”
“Oh,” I say again. “Does that mean I could have emailed this to you?”
His smile disappears almost comically. “No. I can’t scribble my favorite red pen over an email, can I?”
“Uhm. I suppose not.”
His eyes drop to my paper, and moments later he looks up again. “Great introduction. I’ll see you Thursday.”
I take that to mean get the hell out, so I do just that.
After chemistry class ends at around three o’clock, Tamara and I head to the Halloween store. We make a beeline to the wig section. She holds up a bright pink one. “I think this is very sophisticated,” she jokes.
“See now, if I was in Lazytown I would fit right in.”
“Ha,” she says. She puts it back and pulls out a black-and-white afro wig. “This is offensive. I am actually offended.” Despite her words, her tone is humorous. It does look quite awful and in poor taste.
I carefully and thoroughly search all the wigs, and I have to settle with a shoulder-length dirty-blonde wig. “I did always wonder what I looked like as a blonde.”
Tamara walks up to me and examines both the wig and me. “You’d look absolutely beautiful,” she says. In an instant, she changes the subject. “Is it safe to spill the tea on you and Cameron and Mikey?”
“That story could fill a novel.”
Her eyes flare. “Do tell. I won’t judge.”
There is a moment of silence where we just stare at each other, and I sigh, I can’t and don’t want to talk to Brandy about this right now. Plus, she already knows. Maybe it’ll be helpful to rant to someone else. I use my head to gesture behind me, and we begin walking through the aisles. I tell her everything. The list, the kisses, the sex, the regret. It’s comforting that she just lets me talk while she listens. Only once I say the words “The end” does she speak.
“The idea of a bucket list is great as long as you’re staying true to yourself. I’m just confused about why you would have relations with Mikey if you like Cameron. I’m not saying you have to love someone necessarily to sleep with them. But you clearly wanted to do it with a different person.”
“At the time I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Cameron is experienced. I’m not.”
She nods. “I get that, but I doubt Cameron will be less hurt if you tell him that.”
I shrug. “What do I tell him? I didn’t even know he and I were in an official committed relationship. I guess I was just being naive.”
“Maybe you guys can start over? Cameron is a really good guy. He’s upset now, but if you show an effort, he’ll come around.”
I take her words in. I did let him stew in his feelings over the weekend, but maybe the best thing to do is rip the Band-Aid and have this conversation sooner rather than later so his pain doesn’t turn into anger and resentment.
Tamara snags the wig bag from my hand. “You know what would look great with this? I have a pair of sunglasses and a straw sun hat.”
It is still light when we arrive on the pier, and right away we walk to the Ferris wheel. I feel silly with a blonde wig on.
“Technically, you don’t need the disguise anymore if you plan to talk to Cameron, but you look great.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have a plan on what exactly to say, so it will buy me more time if they see me with you. Plus, I’m not ready to talk to Mikey yet. It’s embarrassing.”
She laughs. “Fair. So, what’s your name? What’s your story?”
“Hmmm…” I think for a while then answer. “Lydia. Born in Jersey and moved to LA when my husband dumped me on our honeymoon and left me with the hotel bill. Made me pay for porn. So embarrassing.”
“Oh really? Why’d he dump you?”
I feign sadness. “He met a hot bikini model and got her pregnant.”
“Damn. What a dirtbag.”
“You live and you learn. He was an uggo anyway.”
Tamara lets out an audible laugh that is so contagious I am forced to break out in laughter, too. “You should write a book about this Lydia girl.”
“Maybe I will,” I jest. “Do you find it ironic that you told me you didn’t want me to be someone I’m not then you help me literally become someone I’m not?”
Tamara presses her lips together tightly and rests her finger against them as if advising me to keep a secret. We join a group of people in line for the wheel. Unfortunately, there are some familiar faces. One is Brazely, and one is Mikey. He greets us, and Tamara introduces me as Lydia. Mikey offers me a smile while Brazely narrows her eyes in my direction. My overthinking brain assumes she recognizes me, but it could also be due to the bright sun shining in our direction. Then again, Brazely is possessive and probably shoots her lasers out of her eyeballs at any girl near her ex.
“Where is that dipshit, Cameron?” the evil blonde asks.
“I assume somewhere,” Tamara responds with a hint of bite.
Brazely ignores the attitude and twirls a bunch of hair then whips it behind her shoulder. “Is he bringing that sad, desperate, brunette girl?” she asks.
I roll my eyes so hard they hurt.
I can’t stop myself. “You sound salty.”
She reacts to my voice with the wrinkle of her nose.
“Lainey?” Mikey says. My heart drops. Did I just give myself away? Of course I did. I should have suggested Tamara introduce me as mute or something. That or I should learn to control my tongue.
“Yeah, her,” Brazely answers.
Phew. Thank Jesus.
It’s not that I need or want Mikey showering me with compliments behind my back, I wronged him, but him not even making a move to defend me kinda stings.
“I don’t understand why anyone would want her,” Brazely goes on.
“She’s actually great,” Tamara offers, shutting her terrible ex-girlfriend down. Tamara smiles brightly at me and tilts her head. “This line is too long.” She pulls away, and Mikey and I retain strange eye contact until Tamara yanks on me before I crash into somebody’s dad. She leads me to the food stand line. “Okay. I have to be honest.”
“Uh oh.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I invited you here because I enjoy your company, but Brazely will not get off my back. She called me five times last night before I answered, and she blabbed for an hour about how she’ll do better if I give her another chance. Then she pulls this shit with you. All talk, no walk.”
“So, what are you saying?” I ask.
Tamara throws her head back, looking to the sky and lets out a sigh. “Don’t hold this against me, Holden Caulfield.” Bringing her head down, she clears her throat. Whatever she is about to say is embarrassing, at least to her. So much so she had to ask a fictional character for forgiveness?
“Tell me,” I say again.
She blinks then gives me a look like I just caught her scribbling on the walls with crayon.
“I think that if I showed her that I have moved on, she might get the idea.”
“I agree.”
“And since you’re Lydia right now…”
Oh. Oh!
I save her the anxiety and answer her unasked question. “Whatever you need I will be happy to help.”
She grabs hold of my wrist, her cool palm giving me a slight chill. “I owe you big-time.”
I hear a group of guys laughing not too far away, and my attention is drawn to them. One of the brunet boys in the group makes eye contact with me. The corners of Cameron’s lips curl into a smile. I hold up a hand in greeting. A tad of relief rushes through me thinking maybe he forgives me but then I remember he’s looking at Lydia.