CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Hard to Hold
Late February brings brutally cold weather and even blizzards. It’s always like this, but I’m more aware of the bitter cold this year, not to mention the never-ending snow and ice. The indoor track is virtually empty on this Saturday afternoon, exactly how I prefer it. My guess is that almost nobody else wanted to brave the storm that hit today to walk across campus to the gym. It’s that bad out. But it’s half the reason that I’m here. The dorm feels claustrophobic to me today, so I had to get out. It probably took me as long to bundle up in protective clothing as it will to complete my run.
There is one other girl on the track with me and a few guys lifting in the weight room. The glass wall to the room affords me an easy view when I run past, and I spot Chris when I run by. We don’t usually overlap because I often run in the early morning and he usually works out in the late afternoon, but today I spent most of the day finishing schoolwork.
He waves as I near the weight room on this lap, and I wave back. He’s got on a tight blue nylon shirt and black shorts, and I can’t help slowing my pace a little as I take him in. Knowing what is under that shirt and shorts is distracting. I look away and turn up the volume on my music. The most recent playlist from Chris blasts loudly in my ears, and I refocus on my run. The timer that I’ve set reads sixty-three minutes. Another twelve and I’ll stop. I know that I’m still not very fast, so I push hard for the last few laps until my legs and my lungs are burning.
After a cooldown walk and a shower, I stand in my bra and underwear in front of the locker room mirror and dry my hair. Usually I throw my curls in a ponytail, but today I’ll turn into a walking icicle if I go outside without drying it. As I run the brush through my hair and work the blow dryer on high heat, I am noticing the scar on my left forearm more than usual. It’s not that I’m self-conscious or embarrassed about it again, but I’m more … I don’t know what I am. Confused. Bewildered. I haven’t told Chris how our scars match up. I can’t begin to make sense of it.
I halfway want to tell Chris about it, but I’m afraid he’ll be dismissive. For me, there is meaning in how we fit together, there has to be, but I know he won’t see it the same way. Estelle would make too much of it. Sabin would get it. But Chris? No. Besides, the reentry back to school after our days in the hotel was hard enough, and there is no reason to complicate what is over for now. It’s not the right time to talk about scars, mine or Chris’s. And I don’t need details to know the profound significance of Chris’s scars, physical and emotional. What may have happened to him, and to Estelle, Eric, and Sabin, is more than I can stand. But I don’t know the story yet, and imagining details is not smart. I need facts, but I have an unwavering respect for privacy, so I will not ask about this.
It’s taken us a little time to find our footing again with each other, and some of that struggle is probably from the fact that Sabin, Eric, and Estelle make no secret of staring back and forth between us at every given opportunity, waiting to see what might happen. I don’t know about Chris, but I haven’t talked about our time together with any of them. Luckily, they asked me directly. What went on between me and Chris is ours and ours alone. I can’t even tell Sabin, and I tell him everything else. I’ve listened to his many one-night stand stories, but I will never talk to him about the hotel.
But despite the curious stares from the Shepherd siblings, Chris and I are now finally back to normal. Well, whatever is “normal” is for us. We joke and hang out; we study together sometimes. It’s easier in a group because there’s less opportunity for any loaded eye contact. I try not to touch him much because the electricity that I still feel from any brush of his skin—or, hell, the fabric of his clothing—can make me catch my breath. I’ve accepted that the heat between us is just a part of who we are. But that doesn’t make it any easier when I’m trying to pay attention to Dostoyevsky, and I feel Chris put a hand on my shoulder to ask if I want a cup of coffee. Because then all I can think about is how that hand can move so skillfully over my breasts, between my legs … So that’s challenging. But we have not so much as kissed since that last night in the hotel. As much as I wouldn’t mind a repeat of a number of things, we are in a good place with each other. Being on hold is not an unhappy place to be.
Just as I finish layering on my clothing, down parka, and hat, I get a text from Sabin saying that I should come meet them at the union. Of course I will, I text back. I’m relishing our time together, knowing that graduation is nearing every day. I’m getting closer to applying for the internship that my old friend Nichole Rains talked to me about back in Boston. The reality is that I need to make plans for after graduation, and those plans have to include going home: it’s what James wants, he’s told me, which means that I need to be there. I want to be there, I do, but I also am not ready to leave this group of friends. To leave Chris. He has no firm idea about what he’s going to do after graduation, either, but I suspect that he’ll stay in the Madison area and get a job of some kind. After the summer, though, both of us could theoretically be free to go anywhere.
As I swing open the door from the gymnasium, I am hit with blizzardy snow. Just before the door blows back into me, Chris puts his hand out and stops it from smacking me in the face.
“My hero!” I clasp my hands together and bat my eyes.
“Damn straight.” Chris grins. “You going back to the dorm?”
“Student union. Sabin said they’re all there. Want to come?” I have to yell through the wind to be heard. It’s dark and I’m already fantasizing about having a giant cup of cocoa with whipped cream.
“Definitely.”
I groan and lean forward, covering my face with my hands, as a howling wind whips over us. “Motherf*ck!”
Chris laughs and throws his arm over my shoulders. “Suck it up. Only another month or so of this.”
It feels good to have this happen, because while I don’t necessarily want to toss him down in the snow and screw him, I do like the closeness between us, so I lean into him while we walk. We make our way through the stormy weather, each of us nearly taking a spill on different ice patches, and I cheer when we tumble into the overheated student union relatively unscathed. “Heat! Thank God!” I sigh happily.
I scan the room, excited to see all the Shepherds, and Zach, too, whose company I’ve really been enjoying lately. He’s genuine, and fun, and passionate, especially about Eric. He’s also …well, Zach is normal. He’s got nice parents who live in the suburbs of Minnesota, and the fact that he’s gay has never caused the slightest issue for them. Zach is so devoid of emotional baggage that it’s a joy to hang out with him. He’s also a great companion because he gets statistics—and we’re in the same class this semester. Having him hold my hand through it is amazing since I seem to have zero grasp on anything mathematical. Mostly, though, my academic performance is soaring. My adviser, Tracey, actually dropped me an e-mail to say that she’s been watching my grades since our meeting last fall, and she’s impressed, which makes me happy.
Chris yanks off my hat and shakes it at me, throwing snow in my face. I laugh and chase him over to the table where Eric, Zach, Estelle, and Sabin are sitting. Chris flops into a chair, and I clap my snowy mittens over him to repay the favor, but I jump into Sabin’s lap before he can retaliate again.
“Sabin! Help!” I squeal.
“You’re freezing and wet!” Sabin complains, but he lets me stay where I am anyway, even helping me take off my coat. I love the lap spot that he always provides. Sabe is like an inappropriate Santa Claus. “Look at your cheeks! You’ve probably got frostbite.” He puts his warm hands on my face and tries to warm me up. But then he’s rubbing crazily and smooshing my face while I try to get away.
“Boys are impossible.” Estelle stares into a compact as she reapplies lipstick. “Leave her alone, you two, because payback is a bitch. Blythe and I will get you when you least expect it.”
Sabin takes his hands from my face. “Okay, okay, I know better than to mess with that tag team.”
He is super scruffy today, even for Sabin, and while I am finding his squishy lap very comfortable to sit on, he has definitely been gaining weight. I can’t resist, so I poke him in the belly. “Might want to come to the gym with me or your brother once in a while.”
The table lets out a collective, “Ohhhhhh!” and I get another face squish.
“Sabe, seriously,” Eric says. “The belly is really getting out of hand.”
“Yeah, come lift with me at least,” Chris offers. “Or go run around the track a few times.”
Sabin rolls me into him, stands with me holding him like a koala baby, and shakes my backside to the table, making me laugh again. “Why? So I can have an ass like Blythe’s?”
“In your dreams you’d have an ass like Blythe’s.” Chris winks at me.
Another group “Ohhhhhh!”
Sabin sets me down on the ground. “Okay, okay. I hear you. You think I’m fat and disgusting.” He fakes a sob. “That calls for hot chocolate. Blythe, come with me. I’m so out of shape that I may need assistance walking the distance from here to the counter.”
“Consider me a human cane,” I say.
As I walk by Chris, I mess up his hair, and he smacks me on the ass.
“See, Sabe? HARD AS A ROCK!” he yells as we walk away.
I just shake my head and keep walking.
“You two aren’t … you know … again, are you?” Sabe nudges me with his elbow. “I kinda thought that Chris …”
“What?”
“Nothin’,” he says and looks ahead.
“No, we’re just friends. It’s good, really,” I promise him.
The line at the café takes forever. It seems half the campus is holed up here during the storm. We’re just collecting the drinks we’ve ordered for the table when Zach catches up with us at the counter.
“Hey!” Zach leans a hand against the wall. “I’m really hungry. Do you guys want something? I was thinking we could take a couple pizzas back to my room?”
“My fat belly and I always want pizza. Totally good idea,” Sabin says.
“Sure, let me just warm up before I go out again.” I am still shivering when I take two steaming cups from the counter.
“Aw, let’s just get them now and head over. I’m, like, really, really hungry.” Zach bounces in front of us while we start back to the tables.
“Dude, what the hell? We’ll eat pizza in a little bit. The lady is still currently an iceberg. Calm down.” Sabin frowns at him.
Then Zach stops walking. He’s less bouncy now. “Sabe …” He tips his head back just the slightest bit. “It’s just that …” Zach looks at me.
“Oh f*ck,” Sabin says under his breath.
I follow Sabin’s gaze. Immediately, I know that this is the moment I will remember as the first time I felt very real and very painful heartbreak.
Everyone is still sitting in their seats at the table, but there is now someone else there, too. She is standing behind Chris, her hands rubbing his shoulders. For a second, I try to tell myself that I’m seeing something other than what I am. But when she tilts his head back and kisses him on the mouth briefly, there is no point. He does do a quick scan for me, but he doesn’t spot me through the crowd. I can tell he’s uncomfortable, but I don’t give a shit.
“Blythe.” Zach touches my arm.
“Who is she?” I ask softly.
Neither of them says anything. I turn my back on the view. I cannot look at this.
Sabin turns and throws the cups from his hands into the trash can. He takes the two I am holding and does the same. “Zach, get her coat. Let’s go.”
I look at Sabin. “Who is she, Sabin? Who is she?”
“Don’t cry,” he says. “Please don’t cry.”
“I’m not going to cry, I just want to know who the f*ck she is.”
Sabin starts walking me to the door, and his hand on my back is the only reason I am able to find the exit. “Just hold on, baby girl.”
He tries to get me to wait in the entryway, under the blasting heaters, but I push into the snowstorm. Better to freeze out here than share the air in there with her. “Jesus, Blythe! Stop!”
I am running through the snow with Sabin falling farther behind with each step. I want my room, my bed. I want away. Zach appears and forces my hat on my head and my coat over my shoulders while Sabin swears up and down. When we get to my dorm, I shake off my coat, locate my key in the pocket, and fumble hopelessly with the lock. Sabin tries to take it from me, but I shove his arm away. “I can open the f*cking door by myself!”
It takes a minute, but I do. They follow me silently to my room, and I can practically hear them flinch when I hurl the keys across the room and they hit the wall. I sit on the bed and take off my sopping wet shoes. Then I throw them one at a time at the same wall.
“You could have at least aimed for Neon Jesus,” Sabin whispers.
“Shut up. You’re lucky my hands are empty now.” I take a deep breath. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Throw whatever you want,” he says.
Zach sits down next to me, and Sabin squats in front of me. I can’t look at either of them.
“Will you two just go, please?”
“No,” Zach says. “We’re not leaving.”
“Please go. I’m embarrassed enough.” I look at Sabin. “Please, Sabin.” The more I talk, the more difficult it is to control my voice. I do not want to fall apart.
Neither of them say anything for a minute, and I’m hoping they’ll give up.
“Blythe, I’m so sorry.” Sabin takes my hand.
I look up at him and feel my eyes sting. F*ck. “How long?”
The pause before he answers me is excruciating. “Since a few weeks … after.”
“A few weeks after we got back to school?” I wipe my face with my sweatshirt. “Have you known the whole time?”
“B., we didn’t know how to tell you …”
“No, no, it’s okay.” I shake my head. “And it’s fine. I’m fine. Really.” I stand up and step around Sabin. I locate my sneakers and calmly go and set them on the heater, keeping my back to the boys as I look out the window and start babbling. “These are going to take forever to dry out. I might have to use my backup pair if I want to run tomorrow morning. I’ll have to get up early because I still don’t have that statistics stuff down, and I also have about a million chapters left to read for lit class. Actually, I should get to sleep if I’m going to get up early.”
“It’s six o’clock,” Zach points out.
We’re all quiet again, until I finally turn around and crumble.
“Sabe …”
My friend lets me fall into his arms, and he strokes my hair and tells me over and over that it’s going to be all right. “She’s just some stupid girl, Blythe. She’s not you.”
“He doesn’t want me.” I keep my face pressed into him, hiding my eyes under the flap of his leather jacket. “But I can’t be upset because we agreed we weren’t going to be anything else. I just thought that later … we would. I’m just so messed up still.”
“Chris is the one who is messed up.” Sabin holds me tighter. He is my rock right now.
“He said … he said he didn’t want a girlfriend. Sabin, that’s what he said.” I lift my head, and Sabin rubs his thumbs under my eyes. “She’s not just some girl. She’s his girlfriend, isn’t she?”
He doesn’t need to answer me.
I step away and go to the sink to wash my face. “What’s her name?”
“Jennifer.”
“I assume she’s nice?”
They don’t say anything.
I throw water over my eyes and pat my face dry with a towel. My bed is screaming my name, so I crawl past Zach and lie down. “You can say she’s nice. It’s okay.”
Zach lies down next to me. “She’s fine. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her.”
“There is too something wrong with her.” Sabin lies down on my other side. “She’s boring as shit.”
Zach laughs. “Well, there is that.”
“Good.” I sniff and stare at the ceiling. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t Chris tell me? Don’t answer that. I know why. Because you all think that I’m so f*cking fragile, and I’ll come completely unglued again.”
“No. Because we were hoping she wouldn’t be around for very long,” Sabin says.
“But she’s still around.” I fight back tears. “Is he sleeping with her? Forget it. I don’t want to know. It’s none of my business anyway.”
“He’s not, if that’s any comfort,” Sabin says quickly. “It’s not going to last, B. It’s not. She’s not enough for him.”
“Neither was I.”
“No, no, sweet girl. Don’t you get it? You were too much for him.” I realize that Sabin has said exactly what Chris said that night in my room when he left so suddenly.
“I was fine. I swear to God I was. I wasn’t ready for anything either, but I didn’t think that …” I don’t even know how to finish this sentence.
Sabin does. “That he’d run out and do something so stupid and thoughtless.” He scratches his unshaven face and smiles at me. “I’m telling you, I promise you, this won’t last. It’s not like he’s going to get married or anything.”
There is a knock at the door and my stomach knots. “No,” I whisper adamantly. “No.” I do not want to see Chris now.
Sabin nods. “I got it.” He’s off the bed in a flash. The last thing I hear him say as he storms out into the hallway and slams the door behind him is “Are you f*cking kidding me, Chris? C’mon, man, you gotta get the hell out of here. Give her a goddamn minute, okay?”
I hear their footsteps retreat down the hall. The room feels emptier without Sabin in it.
I don’t cry again, which is good. “Zach …”
“I know. This was not supposed to happen.”
“No. It wasn’t.”
I’m so stupid. I guess that it was really just sex between us. The friendship part, I know that was real, but the other stuff? I must have been the only one who felt it. There is no deeper connection between us, no larger reason for our scars, no epic romance that has yet to unfold.
Except I don’t believe that. I should, based on what Chris is doing, but I don’t. My heart is screaming something else. Maybe that’s wishful thinking.
Zach sits up and looks around the empty room. “Take it from someone who is also in love with a Shepherd brother. They are easy boys to fall in love with, but hard to really, really hold on to.”
“Eric adores you.”
Zach nods. “And Chris adores you. That’s easy to see. He does. But people like Eric and Chris? Having a relationship, trusting in that? It’s a lot harder for them than it is for most of us. You can imagine, I think, Blythe. Chris just wants safe and easy right now. It’s because he loves the hell out of you that he’s running.”
I think about Chris’s scars and what kind of harm could have possibly caused them. And I say something that makes me sick to my stomach. “I think Chris got the worst of it.”
“Yes,” Zach says. “I think you’re right.”