Chapter 34
Gwen’s spending her New Year’s Eve afternoon with her sister, getting brunch and manicures and going shopping with gift cards they got for Christmas, and Gregory’s at his grandparents’, so Mr. Korgy has an afternoon free and he comes over to my place.
“Not really my thing,” I shrug.
So he tells me what they’re about, thinking that the only reason I don’t like them is because I didn’t comprehend them, but I say, “No, I got all that. Just not my thing,” and he looks like he might cry.
So I tell him that regardless I appreciate that they were influential, and his eyes flood with relief.
Mr. Korgy gets up to make himself a snack, and when he comes back into the doorway empty-handed, he announces that he’s gonna me some groceries.
“You need some things that aren’t microwavable,” he explains, “or that don’t list sugar as the first ingredient.”
He crawls next to me and we have sex and lie in bed afterward, our limbs tangled around each other’s. Then he leans up on his elbow and traces my belly button with his finger and my stomach lurches with that terrible feeling of something being taken away. Sometimes I hate the things my body knows.
“Hey, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
“I just want to talk about our return to school. Or work, as it is for me. Things are gonna change once my regular schedule kicks back in. And I’m worried it will be jarring for you.
Certainly an adjustment, at least. I want you to know that just because it might be harder for me to get entire afternoons free, and our time together might be a bit more rushed, that does not mean my feelings for you have changed or are any less. ”
It’s considerate of him to bring this up.
I was too scared to. I’ve thought about it a lot, what will happen to us once I don’t have the access to him that winter break allows for.
I’ve ruminated on it in the hours after midnight, when all ruminations take hold.
I’ve tried to curb the spiraling thoughts, tried to talk myself out of them, avoid them with junk food binges and shopping sprees, or, in my healthier moments, reassure myself with Psychology Today articles that swear “Ninety Percent of Fears Don’t Ever Come True.
” But this one has. Maybe reassurance is naive.
“Thanks for telling me,” I say, staring at the wall.
“Where’d you go?” he asks.
“Nowhere. I’m here,” I say. And he says that he is too, even though five minutes later, he has to leave.
An hour later, the groceries arrive on the doorstep. I pour myself some chocolate paleo crunch granola with almond milk, and only get through three bites before throwing it away and pouring myself a glass of flat root beer instead.