7. Maya
Maya
November
“Hang on one second, Mom. I’m going to order my food really quick,” I say, rolling down my window in the drive-through line.
“And did you want your Diet Coke a regular or a Large?” the person through the speaker asks.
“Large, please,” I say, then pull around to the window to pay.
“Remember, Maya: you’ll be the size you order,” my mother provides unsolicited.
I grind my teeth, trying to ignore her comment. “It’s a diet drink, Mom. No sugar. No calories.”
My mother hums her disapproval over the line. “Anyway, back to Thanksgiving. Will you be able to come down for the holiday?”
My mother lives in Florida, having moved there after I started college and began living with my dad full-time.
She used to live here, and I’d split time between their two homes.
Then she met her now-husband, Doug, and they decided they needed the peace and relaxation only the Sunshine State could provide.
“I’ll try. I have to see what Dad’s plans are,” I reply noncommittally. The idea of spending a week with my mother during a holiday entirely centered around food makes me want to gouge out my eyes with a dull spoon.
My mother—Gina—is the dictionary definition of an “almond mom.” She eats four bites of a meal before claiming to be full. She weighs herself on the scale every day, and if the number changes, she forgoes food for a week.
My father is the complete opposite. The man’s an athlete; protein is his best friend. He promotes healthy eating at every meal. Growing up, on the nights I was with him, I had to finish all the food on my plate to “grow big and strong.”
Needless to say, my relationship with food is rocky at best.
I’m not a large girl, but I’m not small either. I’ve tried to find a balance that works best for me, but listening to my mother comment about my body or my meals is comparable to taking an ice pick to the brain.
After hanging up the phone and getting my lunch, I drive to the campus library to try and study for my Art History exam.
Ten minutes into studying, I’m distracted by a message from my childhood best friend, Danielle.
Dani and her family live in Maryland. The two of us met at a summer camp when we were in middle school. Camp Radiance, an all-girls summer camp where we got to go and spend five weeks a year doing all of those classic summer-camp activities that are shown on TV.
We met the first year we were both old enough to attend—the summer after fifth grade—and have been virtually inseparable ever since, as long as you ignore the geographical separation, which was out of our eleven-year-old hands.
Dani
Dani: You won’t believe this
Dani: Paul just told us that he and Mom are moving to Hanover.
Dani: As in 20 mins away from your house!
Me: WHAT??
Me: Why??
Dani: Something about his job? A case he’s been following, I think.
Me: Wow. When? So you’re gonna come and visit more, right?
Instead of continuing the text thread, Dani video calls me. “So, I was actually thinking about transferring.”
“To Saint A’s?” I ask, eyebrows raised in shock.
“Yeah. I mean, I would wait until the new semester starts, but I don’t have any real attachments at Glendale. I could transfer my credits and go to school with you instead. Plus, if my parents move, I’ll have to get an apartment here alone, and that doesn’t sound fun at all.”
“Oh, my gosh, this is so exciting!” Dani laughs at my enthusiasm, and then laughs harder when the librarian shushes me.
“What about your brother?” I ask, lowering my voice.
“Drake’s going to finish out his season at MSU, but he said something about transferring for senior year, too. He won’t tell me anything, but he and Paul both are really into this case. I’m not even sure it’s legal for Drake to know as much as he does, since it’s an open investigation.”
“That’s kind of insane. Do you think it’s something bad? Like, serial-killer bad?” I ask.
“I have no idea,” Dani answers. “But I don’t think Paul would risk moving his entire family toward a serial killer, so probably not.”
Our conversation moves away from Dani’s FBI step-father, into friendlier territory before she eventually hangs up, having to go to her next class.
I try to reign my focus back to studying, but a tall, tanned figure walking into the library catches my attention.
Jamie walks over to one of the desktop computers, his big frame folding into the plastic chair. He hasn’t noticed me, giving me a private moment to take him in.
He’s wearing a hockey hoodie and sweats, and the backward hat on his head is enough to make me drool.
Until I remember what he did at that Halloween party two weeks ago, and my shameless attraction is doused in frigid reality.
My stomach rolls, thinking about the look in his eyes when he realized who he’d been with in the bathroom. I don’t know what I did to deserve his hatred, especially because it’s been thirteen years since we last spoke, and we were literal children.
Closing my laptop, I decide to put an end to this once and for all. If he wants to hate my guts for the rest of his life, fine. But I deserve an explanation, nonetheless.
He’s still waiting for the computer to boot up when I drop into the seat beside him.
Jamie looks at me out of the corner of his eye, shoulders stiffening when he realizes who just sat down.
“Tell me why you hate me, and I’ll leave you alone,” I command bluntly. There’s no sense in beating around the bush.
Jamie stays silent, clicking the mouse of the computer repeatedly in a futile attempt to make it speed up.
“I didn’t…I didn’t mean to let things go that far at Halloween,” I continue, offering a pseudo-apology. While I don’t regret letting him touch me, I do regret the deception. I would never want him to feel like I used him. I can admit that, in my inebriated state, I wasn’t using the best judgment.
“It’s fine,” he grits out, voice gravelly.
“Jamie—”
“Don’t call me that,” he orders, for the second time.
I hesitate for a moment. “But it’s your name.”
“Nobody’s called me that in a long time.” His voice is guarded; not angry so much as resigned.
“What would you like me to call you, then?” I ask.
“Nothing. I…I don’t want you talking to me at all.” His computer finally loads up, and he proceeds to log in to the browser. The internet, it seems, is also running slow, because the page he’s trying to access begins to buffer.
He lets out a frustrated sigh that has me fighting a smirk.
“Well, I told you: tell me why you hate me, and I’ll leave you alone,” I offer again.
He drops his head back in defeat, rubbing his eyes with his forefinger and thumb, as if this conversation is giving him a migraine.
“I just can’t…I can’t do this, Maya. We aren’t eight years old anymore. I don’t want to be your friend. So will you please just leave me alone?”
“That’s not a reason. I didn’t do anything to deserve this. You don’t even know me—”
He cuts me off before I can finish my sentence. “Exactly. I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. That’s how I want it.” He pins me with a cold, silver glare. “I don’t want you. I don’t need you. Halloween was a mistake, so forget it happened.”
I glare right back, refusing to back down. “How do you think your coach would feel about the captain of his team treating his daughter like a piece of shit?” I regret the petty words as soon as they leave my mouth, but it’s too late to take them back.
Jamie’s face hardens in rage. “Do it. Go fucking tattle. Fuck you, and fuck your dad.” With that, Jamie pushes away from the computer and storms out of the library, not bothering to complete whatever task he came here for.
And I leave, feeling like the scum of the earth, because that’s not at all how I wanted that conversation to go.