Chapter 3 #3
We approach the classic Boston triple-decker we live in, and in this lighting and this context, the pale Pepto-Bismol color of the clapboard siding makes me feel nauseous.
Or maybe the nausea is a premonition, because as I’m about to say goodbye and walk to the entrance to the basement apartment, a car pulls into the street parking spot right next to us.
The driver turns off the car and exits, yelling “Hiya!” in a grating, high-pitched voice with the well-curated accent of a New England prep school graduate.
Goose bumps form on my arms in response. Hell thumping no.
Harrison whips around, the ice in his coffee cup rustling. “Hi!” he forces out.
After grabbing a yoga mat out of her back seat, she floats up to us and gives Harrison a kiss. On the lips. (This is it. This is hell. It must be, because why else would there be literal flames in my vision?)
She turns to me, sticking out her hand for a handshake. Her fingers have perfectly manicured red polish with no chips.
“I’m Stephanie,” she says.
Stephanie. I file it away. I wish I didn’t know her name. Giving her a name in my mind means she’s real, and I’d prefer her not to be real, for the sake of my sanity. Stephanie.
Definitely not a booty call.
“Emma,” I say. I nod toward the house. “I just moved into the basement apartment yesterday.”
Her eyes brighten, like I’ve given the correct answer, and she’s proud of me for it. “Oh, lovely! Look at you, already becoming friends with the neighbors.”
“Yeah, Harrison helped me carry my moving boxes to the recycling bin,” I say at the same moment Harrison says, “Emma and I went to college together.”
Stephanie and I both turn to Harrison with raised eyebrows, which he takes as his cue to continue. “Yeah, we were, um, friends in college, but I didn’t know she was moving here until I ran into her yesterday.”
“You were friends in college?” Stephanie asks. She tilts her head, lost in thought, as if she’s combing through every story Harrison’s ever told and trying to remember whether she’s heard my name.
Based on Harrison’s cringe, I’ve never been a topic of conversation. This shouldn’t hurt my feelings, especially considering I made Jo swear she’d never bring up Harrison in conversation, but I feel slighted anyway.
“Huh!” Stephanie continues. “That’s so funny. I just met a couple of Harrison’s friends from college last month, too.”
Last month—so assuming they’d been together for at least a couple months before he started introducing her to friends, then we’re looking at a three- to four-month relationship. I don’t know what to do with that information, but I set it aside to mull over later.
“Mark and Veronica,” she continues. “Did you know them?”
Putting me in the same category as Mark and Veronica, two college friends from his nursing program who he took some classes with and occasionally studied with in the library, is, frankly, insulting.
Nonetheless, I nod vaguely, because I did vaguely know them, and Stephanie smiles at my confirmation.
“They were delightful. It was so fun getting to hear more about Harrison in college. Seems like he was a real nerd. Ha!” She rolls her eyes at him and his shark-print scrubs.
I have a strong urge to defend him despite the fact that he is undeniably a huge dork.
“Actually—Emma, are you free tonight?” she asks.
Harrison stares at her blankly. “We’re getting dinner with an old friend of mine who also just moved here, and you should absolutely join!
” She winks at me, and my stomach inexplicably drops.
“And he’s cute. It can be a double date, if you’re so inclined. ”
It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking about her friend, not Harrison. Who I should not be thinking is cute, because I am not an asshole or a home-wrecker.
I expect Harrison to jump in and shut this down, but instead, he stares at me with wide eyes.[*3]
I’m about to say no, but then somehow I end up saying, “That would be great!”
Is it because I want to spend more time with Harrison? Is it because I want to meet Stephanie’s cute friend? Is it because I hate myself ? Who’s to say!
Harrison deflates, which could either indicate relief (unlikely) or that he’s resigned to his fate (more likely). Whatever his genuine reaction may be, he tucks it away and adds, “I’ll text you the details.”
This is probably the moment when I should admit I blocked his number after college, but I’m not going to do that. What I am going to do is unblock his number the moment I enter my apartment.
“See you later?” Stephanie asks, and I nod.
As they walk inside, Harrison turns back to look at me one more time.
He seems to want to say something, his lips pulling to the left.
[*4] But at the last minute, he turns around and walks inside.
The door shuts behind him, and I’m still frozen in place with the ice melting in my coffee.
Skip Notes
*1 Wide eyes · Tense jaw · Shallow breathing | Facial expression | Frequency: low
Flustered shock.
*2 Furrowed brows · Soft eyes · Gentle frown | Facial expression | Frequency: low
Combination of anger and regret.
*3 Raised eyebrows · Straight face · Bated breath | Facial expression | Frequency: low
Fear of what comes next.
Unwilling to make the next move.
*4 Lips pulled to the left · Biting the right side of lip | Facial expression | Frequency: medium
Actively thoughtful.
Signals internal debate.