What We Left Behind

I’m very, very drunk. I turn around to hug Carroll full-on and rest my head on his shoulder.

“Please deliver me from lesbian drama,” I say.

He hugs me back.

“Want to go?” he asks.

“Yeah, but I’m scared the girls will see me and draw their claws.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

I let him pull me out of the bar. I sway on the sidewalk, looking around for Briana and the others, but the whole world is blurry. Carroll holds me upright, flags down a cab, and pushes me inside.

“You’re not about to puke, are you?” Carroll asks.

“Shoot, girl!” the driver says. “If you’re going to throw up, get out of my cab!”

“Don’t worry,” I mumble. “I never puke.” I slide down to lay my head in Carroll’s lap.

The next thing I know, Carroll’s shaking me awake. We’re out front of the dorm.

How did that happen? How much time did I lose?

This is awful. I hate this. I hate everything.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” I say as Carroll half drags me into the lobby. “I thought it was okay, but instead it’s all different. Toni’s different, and I don’t know if it’s bad different, but I know it’s not good different. I mean, things are different. Does that make sense? Now Toni’s leaving me here all summer and it’s like she doesn’t even care, won’t even miss me. It’s like I don’t matter anymore, and it makes me want to, like, die inside, and it’s all my fault.”

I’m crying, getting his shirt all wet.

Carroll hauls me into the elevator. There are people in there with us, looking at me, but I don’t care. Carroll keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead.

When we get to our floor, he pushes me down the hallway. I’m stumbling, but he keeps pushing me faster.

Samantha is there when we get to my room. When I see her, I start crying all over again.

“It’s November 1,” I tell her, but my words come out all wrong. “Toni didn’t even ask if I applied.”

“What the—” Samantha takes me away from Carroll and leads me to my bed. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” Carroll says. “Some girl hit on her and she flipped out. I’ll get her some water.”

He leaves. Samantha closes the door behind him and drags the trash can over to my bed.

“I never puke,” I say, pushing the trash can away.

Samantha pushes my sweaty hair out of my face. “Do you want me to get your girlfriend on the phone?”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, sorry. What do you want me to do?”

“Will you...I don’t know. Will you just sit with me?”

She nods. Carroll never comes back with the water, so Samantha gets me some from the bathroom.

I tell her everything. Every word I can choke out in between the sobs that won’t stop coming. Samantha listens, and she tells me she understands, and she tells me it’s going to be okay.

I’m probably just still drunk, but whatever the reason, I fall asleep believing her.





Before

SEPTEMBER

SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL

11 MONTHS TOGETHER





TONI


I had to tell Gretchen. I’d already waited too long. At this point, not telling felt like lying, and lying to Gretchen was the worst thing I could possibly do.

The hard part was finding the words. I’d never said them out loud. I’d never even typed them. I’d been lurking on sites and forums, and I was starting to learn the vocabulary, but I’d never posted myself. That would make it too real.

Talking to Gretchen would make it realer still, but I had to do it. We’d promised we’d always be honest with each other.

I’d tried to practice in advance but I always gave up halfway through. It was too scary. Besides, I didn’t need to practice. This was Gretchen. Maybe I’d have trouble thinking of the words to use, but Gretchen always understood me. Gretchen understood everything.





GRETCHEN


Something was wrong.

When Toni texted me to come meet her after tennis practice, she sounded way too serious. “We have to talk,” she’d said. Nothing good in the history of ever has started with the words We have to talk.

“What’s the matter?” I asked as soon as I saw her. She was sitting on top of a picnic table by the courts, still in her practice clothes, frowning down at her phone screen. Her hair had wilted during practice. Now, instead of its usual spikes, Toni’s hair hung down over her forehead, making her look younger than she was.

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “Hi. Come sit down.”

She smiled at me and scooted over on the table to make room. I climbed up next to her, brushing off some loose leaves that had blown onto the table’s surface. Toni put her phone down and clasped her hands together. Her eyes darted to me and then away again.

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