Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
I’ve been shut in my room since Friday at noon.
Now, it’s Sunday night.
Lights off, wrapped in my comforter, I scroll through my unread texts.
I’m going on day three of no shower and day two of not brushing my teeth.
My lips are chapped. I haven’t been drinking enough water.
I’ve eaten some crackers and some chips, but honestly, I have no appetite. I can’t remember the last time I peed.
Quinn: I’m really worried about you, Ivy.
Wes: Ives, I’m at the door. Please let me inside.
Mom: Why haven’t you responded to my last few messages?
Quinn: I’m here if you need me.
Noah: Yo, what’s up. Mom’s messaging me to ask if I’ve heard from you.
Dad: Why won’t you respond to your mom?
Mom: If you think this is funny, it’s not. Call. Me. Back.
Wes: If you don’t want to talk to me, at least talk to Quinn.
Scott: Can you call Mom? She’s blowing up my phone.
Noah: Dude, is everything ok?
Wes: Is it the speech? Do you need help? If that’s what’s freaking you out, there’s only one more to go. Let me help you…
I pause on the message, my chest knotting. The speech. Tossing my phone aside, I drag my laptop onto the bed and pull up my student email. I type in Professor Markham’s address and do what I should have done nine long weeks ago.
I drop the class.
Maybe this is rock bottom after all.
Ivy,
I received your email last night, and I am very sorry to hear about your desire to drop Public Speaking so late in the semester.
Would you be open to talking through your options before you make your final decision?
My office hours are Mon-Thurs 3-6. Please stop by any time. I hope everything is okay.
Best regards,
Professor Markham
I squint against the afternoon sunlight, ducking my head to stare at the ground. It’s the first time I’ve been outside in days, and all I want is to turn around and crawl back into bed.
“Ivy?” My head snaps up. Ben and Kaden are standing a few feet away, and I feel their eyes wandering over me with concern. I wish I could retract my head into my shell like a turtle. “How…how are you?” asks Ben. “It’s been a minute.”
I force a smile. My cheek twitches with the effort. It takes a couple tries to get the words out right. “I-I’m good. You know. How are you guys?”
“Just busy with the end of the semester,” says Kaden.
“You catch that nasty flu that’s been going around?” asks Ben, earning a look from his housemate.
I tug at the collar of my jacket. I’m overdressed and sweating, but that’s what I get for not checking the temperature before stepping out into the world. “No. Why?”
“Just, um, wondering.”
“Has Wes…have you and Wes hung out recently?” asks Kaden. His eyes seem worried. I know I look pale. I know I’ve lost weight. I know I have dark circles under my eyes that even makeup can’t cover, but there’s nothing I can do about any of that. I’m battling much bigger demons. “He seen you at all?”
“We have class together,” I tell him.
Well, we did.
Kaden’s frown deepens. “Oh.”
I point my thumb toward the Foundations building. “I should go. I have a meeting…”
Kaden nods. “Oh, yeah. Sorry to keep you.”
Ben smiles at me, as friendly as the day we met despite everything that’s happened in the past couple weeks. “I hope we see you soon, Ivy. We miss having you around. I know Wes sure as hell does.”
I stare at him, the mention of Wes causing my heart to give a single, pathetic spasm. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, just that he’s so mopey and moody since you guys broke—” Kaden elbows Ben hard in the gut. “Ouch.”
“We all miss you,” Kaden says. “Take care of yourself, alright?”
I force another smile and wave goodbye. As I hurry toward the building, my pulse pounds like I ran a marathon, and all I want to do is collapse on a bench and catch my breath.
I don’t. I keep moving, arriving at Markham’s office just in time for his office hours to start.
Speaking to the professor whose course has caused me so much pain and suffering is the last thing I want to do, but at this point, I don’t have a choice.
I knock hesitantly on the door and peek my head inside. “Professor Markham?”
He glances up from his desk, adjusting his glasses. “Yes?”
“Sorry. Do you have a moment? It’s Ivy, from your eight a.m. class.”
“Ivy. Of course, I know who you are.” He waves me inside. “Yes, I have more than a moment. Take a seat. Please.”
I do as he asks, dropping into the chair across from the desk with a sigh. I’m shaky and out of breath, and it takes a minute for my pulse to calm. My body’s gotten so used to sleeping and not eating that normal daily functions take more effort than they should.
Markham frowns as he studies me across the desk. I fidget. Shift. “Ivy,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”
“I need to drop your class,” I say. “I’m not—I mean—I’m not doing very well.” What I do next is absolutely mortifying. I start to cry. Sniffing, I wipe at my eyes, knowing this moment will haunt me forever. “I-I’m sorry. This is embarrassing.”
Markham hands me a tissue, sympathy in his eyes. He watches me for a long moment, something almost like recognition shifting in his gaze. “Have you been to the SSC, Ivy?”
“Um, I’m not sure what that is.”
“The Student Support Center.”
I shake my head no.
"I would hate for you to receive a failing grade by dropping the class this late. However, if you’ve been to the Support Center, they might be able to let you drop due to mental health reasons. You’d have to talk to the counselor, of course, but it might be worth a shot.”
“Oh,” I mumble. “I didn’t realize that was an option.”
“I think I have their pamphlet somewhere in my desk. Give me a moment.” He rifles through drawers, pulling out papers before finding the one he wants. He passes it to me, tapping the text at the top of the page. “I believe this is the number to set up an appointment.”
“Okay,” I whisper, clutching the pamphlet between shaky fingers. “Thank you.”
“There’s no shame in taking care of yourself. Talk to the counselor and let me know what works.”
I nod, tucking the paper into my pocket. “I will. Thank you.”
After the meeting with Markham, all I want is to crawl back into bed and hide away from everything, and I’m a zombie as I walk back to my dorm.
But when I see a tall, broad, familiar figure across the quad, I freeze up.
It’s Wes, headed wherever he’s headed, and though he’s alone, he draws the attention of the surrounding world.
I start to panic. He’s nice to me in class, sure, but I don’t have the energy to face him now.
“Well, isn’t that pathetic,” comes an obnoxious voice, and I whirl to find Alexis and Madison sitting on a blanket in the grass. So caught up in my own shit, I hadn’t even noticed them. “Guess he got sick of you, huh? Seems like a common trend.”
Alexis smirks at me. It probably made her day to catch me pining from across the quad, and all I can think is you win. You win you win you win.
“It must be depressing, though, constantly getting discarded by guys who only use you to get off. Does it feel like shit to know you’re barely a step up from their hand? It looks like it feels like shit.”
You win you win you win.
“I heard Tucker’s already screwing someone new.”
Before my brain can really think through her words, my heart sinks like a rock.
She’s lying, I know she’s lying, but the thought of Wes with someone else…
the thought of Wes with someone else makes me want to puke all over their picnic blanket.
Alexis’s eyes spark like she realizes this, and I know I should walk away, but I can’t make my feet move.
“It’s true,” Madison says, nodding. “I saw him at a party with some sophomore girl.”
“How does it feel to be replaced so easily, Ivy?” Alexis asks. “It can’t feel good.”
Madison shakes her head. “It can’t.”
“Do you believe in karma, Madison?”
“Absolutely.”
“I guess this is karma for fucking my boyfriend behind my back,” she says, loud enough for nearby students to overhear. And I just keep standing there. Like the soles of my shoes are glued to the ground. Like I’m frozen in place.
I picture my body deflating like a balloon right here, in front of Alexis, and letting her stomp all over me. She basically does, hurling insult after insult, and I stay there, a human punching bag, telling myself I deserve this—
A pair of big, familiar hands lands on my shoulders. I hear the disgust in his voice as he says, “I think you’ve said enough.”
Alexis’s mouth clamps shut, and before anyone can do anything further, Wes is steering me away from the girls and across the grass.
I’m conscious that we’ve drawn the attention of the entire quad, but I can’t bring myself to care at this point.
We keep walking until he pulls us into a secluded alcove, out of sight of the prying eyes.
Wes ducks his head to meet my gaze, and his hands hold my face so carefully, so tenderly, that my heart squeezes. I bite my bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. “Are you okay?” he asks.
I swallow against my thickening throat and nod my head once. Twice. Then, I shake it, tears brimming my eyes.
“Ivy,” he whispers, before pulling me into a hug. I sink into him, pressing my cheek against his chest, realizing how much I’ve missed this. Missed him. I could stand like this all day long and never get tired of it. “I hate that girl, and I don’t hate many people.”
“Me, too,” I whisper.
He squeezes me tighter. “God, I miss you.”
“Me, too,” I say again.
“I wish you’d respond to my messages,” he murmurs, his chest vibrating against my cheek with the words. “I wish you’d talk to me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say because that’s all I have to offer right now. I don’t have the energy for explanations or reasoning. It’s taking everything in me to stand on my feet.
He pulls back so he can look into my eyes. “Where were you going before you ran into those girls?”
I drop my gaze to the collar of his shirt. “To see Markham,” I mutter. “I’m dropping Public Speaking.”
I give him a moment to process my admission, and then I peek up at him. When I see that the look on his face is one of shock, I feel even worse. “Ivy, no. If you want help with the speech, I can help you. I’ve been trying to help you. Just because things are different with us doesn’t mean—”
“It’s not your problem, Wes,” I cut in, shaking my head.
“Ives…come on.”
“You’re a really good person, and I—” I love you, I think suddenly, because I do. I’ve always loved him, which is why this hurts so damn much. “I-I appreciate you,” I manage instead, “but I made my decision.”
He reaches out and takes my hand between his. “Ivy. Please let me help you. Don’t drop the class.”
I read it on his face. Disappointment. I’m letting him down again, disgracing the image he has of me in his head, and it’s a punch to the gut. How many times can I let this man down before it’s one hit too many? I should be dead by now. I sure feel like I’m dying…
I shake my head even though I do need help. I desperately, urgently need help, but as much as I would love for it to come from him, I know it can’t. I tried that already.
The second I make it back to my room, I dial the number.