Chapter 18
All evening at the restaurant, I was frazzled.
The jitters had broken through this morning’s torpor, the outcome of the election looming now with menacing height.
I rushed to the fire escape on my break to call Jay, my voice of reason, but when the phone stopped ringing, it wasn’t Jay’s rasp on the line.
“Hello?”
I held my breath.
“Hello?” Tristan said again. “Did you mean to call?”
My hand tightened around the phone. “Oh, hi!”
He paused. “Why do you sound so happy?”
“I’m not happy.”
“Did you mean to call me?”
“I was actually trying to call Jay.”
“Weird. How’d you end up calling me?”
“I don’t know.”
I waited for one of us to hang up.
“So, you have a girlfriend. She’s cool.”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s new. She’s completely out of my league.”
I wondered what league he thought he was in, whether I was in it or not. He paused for a long time. “Should we… do you wanna talk about the last time we saw each other?”
“When we were getting chased with a chain saw?”
He didn’t laugh. “No. At the coffee shop.”
My hearing went out like someone had cupped earmuffs over my ears. “I don’t know what to say.”
“How did you feel about it?”
“I… how’d you feel?”
“I asked you first.”
“I know, but I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either.”
“You wanted to talk about it so you must know.”
“It’s not that—it’s not simple like that.” He paused. “Did you tell Jay?”
“No.”
“I mean, he’d be mad, right? Or is this—is this allowed, between you two or…”
I lowered my head into my lap. “I don’t think he’d like us doing anything.”
“Well, I don’t think we should do anything. I have a girlfriend now, so… is that what you’re saying?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying or what you’re saying.”
He laughed. I laughed too. Then he groaned, “Fuck.”
“What?”
“I kinda hate this.”
“Hate what?”
“All of it.”
“All of this might be over tomorrow depending on the results.”
“There’s that dark humor I love.”
I nearly choked with delight, my brain overrun with lousy heart metaphors (my heart did a backflip, it raced, it soared—my heart: a fucking Olympic gymnast, tumbling, leaping, bounding).
But after another pause, he said, “We probably shouldn’t see each other.”
“Why not?” I asked stupidly.
He laughed. “Because I have a girlfriend? Because Jay’s my friend? Because there’s no way this doesn’t end with a fucked cocktail of heartache, betrayal, guilt… Should I throw out more adjectives?”
“Those are nouns.”
He burst out laughing, then became serious. “Cat, I can’t. But I wish you the best.”
The phone clicked. I stared at the pink blobby wallpaper on my screen. He was right. But that didn’t stop me from wanting it all the same.