5. Sutton
5
SUTTON
“Just a few more pictures!” Ms. Carr gushes, grabbing me by the elbows and manually scooting me right next to Laine.
In the midst of the graduation excitement, I almost forgot about the missed call from Frankie. The weight of it feels like a distant cloud in the sky, currently outshined by the radiance of Laine and her parents.
“Come on, act like you know each other,” Cyrus prods, smiling at us from behind his camera.
Laine obliges, tightening an arm around the middle of my back, and I follow suit, laying mine over her shoulders. It's strange how a simple touch can hold so much significance. Even as we started to spend more and more time together throughout the semester, I was careful to keep boundaries between us, especially when it came to physicality. Now that I’m no longer Laine’s TA, the barriers that restrained me from getting too close have vanished, leaving possibilities that both excite and terrify me.
As we pose for the pictures, I wonder if my feelings are transparent to those around us. I wonder if Cyrus and Ms. Carr have noticed the way my smile is always bigger, my laugh always louder when I’m with Laine. Even if they haven’t guessed my feelings yet, how much longer can I conceal them when I can no longer carefully hide behind the walls of professionalism?
I can't help but notice the softness of Laine's skin beneath my hand and the way she leans in slightly, as if she's reveling in the closeness just as much as I am. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, though. After all, Laine has always made it clear that she could never dream of settling down. She relayed her failed college relationships early on in our friendship and swore that she doesn’t want a serious relationship until she’s thirty. Even if she changes her mind, surely it would be for someone more like her. Fun, energetic, alive .
Not some guy on antidepressants who works fifty-hour weeks so he can avoid thinking about anything else.
“We should go find our seats,” Laine says, showing her palm to the camera. She gives my torso a squeeze before letting go.
“Fine,” Ms. Carr says, snapping one last picture. “We are so proud of you,” she whispers, pulling Laine into an embrace. When she draws back, holding Laine at arm’s reach for one more look at her, both of the women’s eyes glisten. They’re a far different pair than the one I accidentally eavesdropped on just mere months ago.
“No tears!” Cyrus says, butting between them so he can give Laine a bear hug. “This is a day of celebration.”
My breath catches in my throat as I watch the three of them. Laine isn’t as close with her parents as most people I know. She claims that she’s seen them more in the past few months than she has for the past few years. But still, they love her, even if they don’t always show it.
My parents don’t even know I’m graduating today.
As if reading my mind, Ms. Carr pulls me into her thin arms. “We’re proud of you too.” She’s at least a foot shorter than me and has to weigh half what I do, but she still manages to wrap her arms around my middle. Cyrus piles in on the hug, dragging Laine with him, until all four of us are packed together.
“I’m sorry your family couldn’t be here,” Cyrus says, his voice almost a whisper.
In our tight huddle, I see Laine’s eyes flick to me nervously. “Okay, I love you both. I really do,” Laine says, a bit breathless from Cyrus’s continued squeezing. “But Sutton and I need to go to our seats, or we’ll be late. Let’s go, cowboy.”
“Look at you, being a stickler for time.” Cyrus laughs, breaking the group hug. “Never thought I’d see the day. Sutton really is a good influence on you.”
Graduation is being held at the center of the Yankee baseball stadium, and as Laine and I make our way through the crowd of cap-topped grads, we can’t go more than ten feet without someone stopping Laine to talk to her. She has that effect on people. Everyone who meets her sees her as a friend. She claims I’m one of the lucky few for whom that is actually true.
“How weird was that?” Laine asks me once we’re seated. “My parents haven’t spent any time together since their divorce, and now they’re doing a group hug ?”
“They’re excited for you,” I insist. “As they should be.”
“They’re excited for you too, you know.”
During the ceremony, I can’t focus on the words much. My gaze, as usual, is drawn to Laine, studying her smile, appreciating the proud tilt of her chin.
“You did great,” I whisper to her once we’re standing in line for the stage.
Laine turns back and flicks the gold cord around my neck, grinning. “ Me? You’re the one with the perfect GPA. Besides, I’m convinced I only passed Mr. Hirsch’s Shakespeare class because you’re the one in charge of grading homework.”
“Are you accusing me of cheating in your favor?”
“Maybe my parents paid you off,” Laine says, shrugging playfully.
I roll my eyes. “You’re not waving off your accomplishments that easily, Laine. I’ll have you know that I haven’t graded a single assignment of yours.”
Laine’s brows furrow. “What do you mean? You always graded homework for Mr. Hirsch.”
“Yes, but never yours .”
She scoffs. “Why not?”
“Because I am…” I pause, inhaling sharply. “I’m a bit biased toward you. You earned that A.”
“You didn’t have to do that, you know. It’s not like we were dating or—”
“I know,” I interject, my face warm.
“Right. I know you know.” Laine spins her rings around her fingers, beaming. “So, I actually did it? Fair and square?”
“Fair and square.”
Laine’s dark eyes shine. “How am I ever going to pay you back for all your help?” she asks.
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” We walk in silence for a few moments until I ask, “Why did you need my help?”
She scoffs. “I’m surprised you need to ask me that. After all, I’m not the one with the perfect GPA. Far from it.”
“I mean, why didn’t you ask Cyrus to tutor you? He knows more about Shakespeare than I ever will.”
Laine shrugs, a rare downturn of her lips showing. “We haven’t talked much since the divorce. Not until he met you. I think he’s proud of me just for having a friend like you.”
“They would be proud of you whether or not I was here,” I say. “I’m sure he would have been happy to help. But I’m glad you decided to ask me instead. ”
She nods, smiling at her shoes. “I’m glad too.”
“When are you going to tell me what the plan is for tonight?” Laine asks after we drop off our caps and gowns at her apartment. For weeks, I’ve been planning the perfect celebration for her. Originally, her parents were going to join, but they backed out, last minute, encouraging us to celebrate, just the two of us.
I lead Laine in the direction of our first location. The sun is starting to dip lower, a warm breeze carrying pink clouds through the sky. “First stop is The Trestle,” I say, grinning in anticipation. We went there, an American bistro in Queens, during one of our first study sessions we had over dinner. Since then, it’s been a staple. In fact, everywhere we’re going tonight is a place we’ve already been together and loved.
“Ooh, truffle cheese fries?” Laine asks, her dark eyes sparkling.
“Of course. But as much as you love The Trestle, I know you’d still end up wondering what dinner would have been like somewhere else. So, after we have our appetizer there, we’re going to Marufuku for ramen—”
Laine squeezes my arm excitedly.
“Then to Maison Pickle for their twenty-four-layer cake.” I can’t help but smile, satisfied at her reactions. “A little taste of everything.”
Laine holds her belly, already imagining our oncoming feast. She’s practically drooling. “You know what the only thing is that would make this better?”
“Karaoke. Already planning on it. Much to my chagrin.”
“You know me well, Sutton,” Laine says, walking even faster toward our first spot. “Maybe better than anyone, if your plans for tonight are any indication. But if we’re going to karaoke, you’re going to have to actually sing this time.”
“Do you want to invite anyone else? The reservations were all for four because Cyrus and Althea were going to come.”
“No.” Laine sighs. “I’d rather just spend it with my best friend.” She grins up at me, and the breeze stops for a moment, like the world itself is reverent at the sight of Laine’s smile. For another moment, I forget about my family. I forget about the missed call from Frankie I have yet to return. I allow Laine’s expression to be a balm for my worries, lightening that ever-present sinking sensation in my stomach.
The night goes off without a hitch. As if knowing how important our celebration is, every restaurant delivers perfect dishes and atmospheres. We take our time at each spot, enjoying the freedom to talk about everything aside from school. When we arrive at karaoke, we’re over three hours deep into the night, bellies full and feet tired. But still, our questions haven’t slowed.
“Well, you’ve worked your ass off all semester to become an editor,” Laine says after ordering us our first drinks. “Still think that’s the career for you?”
“I’ve been working my ass off for six years,” I correct with a laugh. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“But how can you be so sure?” Laine shakes her head in disbelief. “I mean, I think I could have been happy in dozens of careers, dozens of lives. How do you know you’re choosing the right one?”
I scratch my beard, wondering how detailed to be. On one hand, I’ve made a habit out of not sharing personal things with anyone. On the other hand, Laine doesn’t feel like just anyone. “Sometimes it feels like there is this heavy fog around me. Things can feel so distant, so dull. ”
Laine nods, her eyes wide as she soaks in the rare scene of me opening up on this level.
“It was like that when I was little, too. I think my mom knew that I was depressed. So, she would read to me. We would climb into my bottom bunk bed and read under the covers together. And when I was engulfed between the pages of a story, some weight was lifted, at least for a moment. It felt like…like finding a secret oasis in a harsh desert. A little sanctuary. I want to bring that to other people. To kids, if I can.”
The bartender slides our glasses to us, and I take a long sip, studying Laine. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t drink. She just stands, absorbing my words. Near the back of the room, someone at the microphone is giving us a particularly rough rendition of “You Can Call Me Al.”
“When I checked in with you last week, you were still wanting to be a journalist,” I say. “No changes since then?”
Laine glares at me playfully. “Probably to your surprise, I haven’t changed my mind. I think journalism will be a good fit. I’ll get to work on new stories constantly, so it should keep me engaged. Should .”
“Any update on the job search?”
Laine huffs. “No. And I don’t want to talk about it. Tonight is all about celebration. I’m going to go sign us up to sing.”
I’m watching her flip through the song choices on the other side of the room when my phone goes off. I check it and decline the call, but it immediately rings again. Not wanting that to continue all night, I hit the green button.
“Frankie?”
“It’s about Wells,” she says in lieu of a greeting.