1. Amelia
AMELIA
Four Weeks Earlier
“Have a good summer, Dr. Hawthorne.”
I smiled and waved at the cluster of students who had been in my freshman stats class as they passed by my open office door.
It took guts to voluntarily take math classes at eight in the morning.
Even when I was in college, I never took eight a.m. classes.
I suffered through a single semester where I thought it would get me up and going for the day, only to realize it was self-inflicted misery.
No matter how much I loved math, I did not love math at that egregious hour.
Now, I suffered through teaching it at eight a.m. once a week, fortified by copious amounts of caffeine and the blanket I kept in my office for my after-lecture desk nap.
The halls of Alcott University were already sparse, as most students had completed their final exams and classes the week prior. I was really just around because I had to be.
I glanced at the text I had sent the group, hoping that a few out of the five of them had responded, but I was left disappointed. As always, only Jake had replied.
Amelia
Where do you all want to go for lunch on Sunday? I’ll make the reservation.
Jake
I’m good with whatever.
Entirely unhelpful. Everyone always wanted to get together, but no one wanted to be the person to make the plans.
Everyone always wanted a good table and would complain when we got stuck with a table sidled up to a booth, but no one wanted to be the one to call the restaurant ahead of time.
Everyone wanted a friend group, but no one wanted to be a friend.
It wasn’t always like this . . .
I groaned as the intrusive thoughts danced through my mind—a cartoon devil with a pitchfork, raking up notions of “woe is me” and “I’m the only one who cares.”
I knew they cared. They were just . . . busy.
I mean, I was busy too. We all were . . . but I was the one who always put in effort so they could just show up and enjoy themselves. They acknowledged my wins sometimes. I celebrated theirs all the time.
I— Nope. Nope. Nope. We are not going down that rabbit hole today. I’m fine. They’re fine. We’re all good friends. Everything is fine.
But was it?
If I disappeared today, would life just go on for them?
The self-pitying, pessimistic side of me believed it would. They’d be sad. They’d probably worry and text each other about how worried they were. But they weren’t the kind of friends who would drop everything and form a search party.
We had a great time when we were all together, but they were friends of convenience. There was nothing wrong with that, but the realization stung. At some point, we had gone from being ride-or-die friends to colleagues. What was next? Acquaintances?
My phone buzzed and I snatched it up, hoping someone else was chiming in with a restaurant recommendation or maybe an offer to take the lead when it came to organizing our end–of-semester outing.
Vaanya
I’m good with whatever too.
I squeezed my phone like I was trying to wring water out of a rock. Just once, I wanted someone to care enough to go out of their way, busyness be damned.
We were all fucking busy.
The rest of the day went by in a blur. Before I knew it, I was heading out of the building to the faculty lot.
I slipped into my car as I spotted Vaanya coming out of the building. I didn’t even know she was on campus today. I knew her class load by heart. She had finished her in-person classes on Monday and said she would be wrapping up her online courses from the comfort of her home office.
Maybe she had come in to close up her office, but why didn’t she swing by mine? She knew I had to be on campus today.
Did she know I had to be on campus today?
I knew everyone’s schedules. Did they know mine?
I stepped on the gas, as if I could outrun the pity party that was dead-set on chasing me, but the sinking feeling in my gut stayed as I pulled out of the lot.
Just once, I wanted them to put a little effort in.
Was that too much to ask? They used to try.
We used to be a sitcom friend group like the one from Friends or The Big Bang Theory.
We worked together, ate together, and hung out after hours, shooting the shit.
We were thick as thieves. Nothing had changed except that, at some point, I had become the glue instead of one of the pieces of the collage.
No one saw me, but I was the one holding it all together.
The thought stung enough to make me grip the steering wheel tighter as I snaked through New Haven on the way home.
Maybe Joel will be home tonight. We could order a pizza and watch the game.
The thought of stuffed crust with onions, pepperoni, and sausage lifted my spirits and made my mouth water.
Hell, it even put a skip in my step as I jogged up the stairs to the apartment I shared with my brother.
My momentary good mood vanished the second I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
Well, the moment I tried to step inside.
Joel’s socks were jammed under the door. I grunted as I pushed my shoulder into the door, trying to get it open just enough to slip inside.
No dice.
I dropped to my knees and shoved my fingers in the gap beneath the door to dislodge the socks.
Gross. My hope that his socks would smell better in his thirties than when we were teenagers was delusional.
The door swung free as I dislodged the socks, and I scrambled off my hands and knees.
“Joel?” I called out as I set my bags by the door and began to pick up his trail of dirty laundry and put it into the hamper I had bought just for him.
Of course, the hamper was overflowing because he couldn’t be bothered to do his own laundry.
“This is the last time I’m washing your clothes,” I called out as I opened the closet that stored the washer and dryer, popped the lid to the Tide canister, and dropped one of the detergent pods into the machine.
I hoisted the laundry basket and dumped his clothes in, filling the washing machine to the brim.
“Joel?” I called out.
No answer.
I slammed the door to the washing machine, started the cycle, and poked my head into his room. Well, the second bedroom that used to be my home office for teaching remotely. It had turned into Joel’s room when he got rid of his apartment and asked to move in with me.
. . . Without so much as a heads-up.
At the time, I had been excited. Thrilled even. As much as I loved having an apartment where candles were for the cozy aesthetic and not for the necessity of hiding odors, I loved the idea of getting to spend more time with my twin.
That excitement had all but vanished. Joel was never here to hang out, but his mess sure was.
I shot him a text, asking when he was going to be home and if he was cool with our regular pizza order, before turning on the TV and scrolling through the channels until I landed on ESPN.
I let the commentator’s voice break the melancholy in my head as I tidied up and loaded the dishes Joel left in the sink into the dishwasher.
My phone lit up as I dried my hands, and I glanced at the screen.
Joel
Working late. Don’t wait up for me.