BLUR
CELESTE WAS NEVER going to forgive her family for abandoning her after dinner and leaving her alone with Justin. She was quite sure that Matt did not have any schoolwork that had to be done on the night before Thanksgiving “come hell or dead turkeys,” and her parents’ last-minute trip to the grocery store seemed highly suspicious. There was no plausible reason for them to run off like this? but she was now stuck with Justin. As much as she wanted him gone, she couldn’t just throw him out as good manners should always prevail.
What was he still doing here anyway? Dinner was over; he’d given a great Barton College spiel and answered the six hundred questions that her parents asked, so it was time to leave. Perhaps he was inclined to give a more personal plea one on one?
Celeste crossed her legs, sat back in the living room arm chair, and clenched her hands together. Justin was surveying the bookshelves. She watched him, watched the way he slid his hands from his pockets to his hair, watched the way he never stopped moving, and watched how his expressions were animated and ever-changing each time he turned around to ask her about something that caught his attention. First-edition books, a pressed leaf in a shadow box, an award her mother received for her charitable work.
She also noticed, with a certain level of discomfort, that each time he walked past her spot, she was eye level with the top of his jeans. Celeste was not one for noticing boys and their backsides, but it was nearly impossible not to be cognizant of his, since it was right there in front of her. Maybe it was because she didn’t have a lot of experience assessing male body structures that Celeste found the way his jeans fell over the curve of his—
She turned her head away. What was wrong with her? One should not leer lasciviously at a student liaison. Or at anyone, for that matter. He really needed to leave. Immediately.
“How long are you home for?” she asked.
Justin spun around. “I go back on Sunday. It’s pretty much a whole day of travel to get to San Diego from Boston. You know, getting to the airport early, then I have a layover in Denver, and all that. I don’t mind airports, though. Lots of good people watching.” He grinned. “I like checking out other people, you know?”
It took her a moment to reply. “I do know. Yes. That is a more recent interest of mine.”
He bounded over to the couch and lay half on his side, resting his elbow on the arm and holding his head in his hand. “Do you like airports? Traveling?”
“Oh. I have never been on an airplane. I know that must sound incredibly odd.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Never?”
“No, never. There has been no occasion to do so as of yet. When we go on vacation, we stay in New England. Driving is simpler.”
“Yeah? I get that. Airports pretty much rock my world. I once got stuck at O’Hare for nineteen hours, but I really didn’t mind because it’s a big enough airport that I camped out in different concourses for hours at a time and went into every store there. Also, I had a really good fake ID, and so after I’d used a Sharpie to map out the entire airport on napkins I went to a bar and drank a bunch of Old Fashioneds. My dad loves those, and I thought it’d be funny. But then I drank too much and fell asleep and missed my flight, so that added on another five hours. Also, I blew my nose with the airport-map napkins and got black ink all over my face and freaked out my seat mate with my crazy face when I finally did get on the airplane. So you’ve never been abroad?”
She blinked. “I have not.”
“What’re you doing tomorrow?” he asked. “For Thanksgiving.”
“Just dinner here. With Matthew and my parents. We do not make a big fuss over holidays. We are a very small family.” The way he had his eyes fixed on her was unnerving. “And you?”
“We’re going to my cousin’s house in Harvard. Hey, speaking of Harvard, I assume you’re applying there? I applied, mostly for kicks. Didn’t get in of course, but I like to think it was their loss. Worked out fine in the end, but I won’t say that my self-esteem didn’t take a little hit. I kind of set myself up for that because it was a big reach school for me. In the end, it’s best for apple picking; that’s what I’ve decided.”
“I do not believe that an apple course is offered at Harvard. Or maybe—”
“Sorry, sorry. I mean, Harvard, Mass has great apple picking in the fall. Lots of orchards. When I hear the word ‘Harvard,’ I’ve decided to think of picking apples instead of in-your-face rejection.” Justin sat up and leaned his elbows on his knees. He looked down. “I’m so sorry. It must be impossible to keep up with me. I don’t know why I forget that.”
Celeste adjusted the sleeves on her cardigan and set her hands in her lap. “I like apple picking very much. And while I do not have much knowledge of airports, you make them sound very entertaining.” She took a breath. “Or maybe they would only be entertaining with you. I cannot say for certain.”
He looked up and gave a half smile. “Hey, Celeste?”
She didn’t understand the look he was giving her, but still, she couldn’t not smile back at him. “Hey, Justin?”
“I was wondering if—” His eyes darted to the side. “Holy crap, is that the time? God, I’ve really got to go.” Justin stood up and patted his pockets. “Keys? I think they’re in my jacket. Your dad put it someplace. No, wait, my keys are right here. But my phone? I’m totally supposed to be helping with food prep. I gotta run. I could stay here and talk to you all night. Oh, there’s my phone. With my keys, of course.” He rolled his eyes at himself. “Anyhow… I really had a good time tonight.”
Celeste retrieved his coat from the front hall closet. “Thank you so much for coming by and telling us about the positives Barton has to offer. It was very generous of you considering that your schedule must be tight on this short trip home.”
“I landed earlier today, went to my parents’, and then called your house. Priorities, right?” The way his eyes glistened and his face lit up was nearly too much for her. She had to get him out of here. She had no idea what she was feeling right now, and that was very disconcerting.
She ushered him aside as she opened the front door. “Good night and happy holidays.”
He took his phone from his pocket and handed it to her. “Punch in your number for me, okay? Do you mind? I can just text you, and then you’ll have mine.”
“Here is my number, should you need it.” She couldn’t imagine why he might need her phone number, but she did as he asked to avoid prolonging his departure. “Okay, then.” She handed him back his phone. “Good night.”
“Good night, Celeste.” He walked backwards past the threshold and onto the porch. “Okay, bye.” Justin moved from side to side. “I’ll call you or text you or something, yeah?”
“Sure.”
He took another few steps back. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
Was he never going to leave? “Yes, happy Thanksgiving to you and your family.”
“Oh, yeah, I meant to say a happy Thanksgiving to your family also. Not just to you. But mostly to you, because, well…”
She eyed the staircase behind him. “Justin, please be careful because—“
“It’s called muddling. Did you know that? You probably did. When they mix sugar and bitters together for an Old Fashioned. I can’t say as I recommend that drink, or any drinks. It’s why there’s a legal drinking age—“
Justin took yet another step back, and Celeste let out a gasp. She rushed forward as he tripped down the flight of steps that led to the front walk, stumbling over his feet, but somehow managing to land upright.
“I’m okay!” he shouted. “See? Ta da!” He raised his hands and shook his palms. “Don’t look so worried. I do worse all the time.”
Paralyzed at the top of the flight, she looked down. She had no idea if she was supposed to assess him for injuries or trust that he was all right. She didn’t want to hover over him or embarrass him.
“I have never tasted bitters,” she said calmly. “Or bourbon for that matter. Is that what an Old Fashioned is made of?” The way he looked up at her with relief and gratitude nearly knocked her breath from her body. “You are sure that you are all right? You have not twisted an ankle, have you?”
“Bourbon or whiskey. Either can be used, and both are decently disgusting if you ask me. I do sneak a gin and tonic now and then, but I’m not a drinker. Just so you know. And I have not twisted my ankle,” he said with a nod. “I assure you.”
“Then I must commend you on a most exquisitely handled descent,” she said. “You have shown fine recovery skills.”
Justin tucked his hands into his pockets. She noticed that he did this a lot. Well, in the few hours that she’d been around him. He was prone to looking charmingly bashful. Justin sighed and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Oh, God, you must think I’m… something. I know, I know, I’m kind of a hot mess, huh?”
“I think,” she said carefully, “that it was very nice to meet you, Justin Milano.”
He nodded and started to turn away. “I’m not going to walk backwards this time, okay?”
“Yes, okay.”
He walked to his car, opened the door, and looked back. “Hey, Celeste?”
“Hey, Justin?” She bit her lip.
And with startling grace—especially because he had just toppled down the stairs—he got down on one knee and swept his hand from one side to the other. “Bye.”
Because she was unable to think clearly, and because she was not in control of her body, she took a step back and recreated her formal curtsy. “Bye.”
Watching him drive away filled her with massive relief. He was gone. This insane night was over. But as Justin’s car rounded the corner, other feelings crept in. Sadness? It made no sense. Of course he had to leave. He had Thanksgiving preparations to make. She had red dye to wash from her hair. And then she had her senior year to complete, and college to attend. And a new identity to formulate. She was very busy.
But when Celeste finally made it upstairs, she did not go directly to the shower to wash her hair. Instead, she found herself making a phone call.
“Hey, you! I was just thinking about you and was going to call. My plane landed a few hours ago, and I’m just getting settled. What’s going on, sweet pea? How are you?”
“There is no time for pleasantries, Julie. Something has happened,” Celeste whispered into the phone. “Something very complex.”
“I see. Then let’s hear it. What complexity has occurred?” Julie was as steady as ever. Just the sound and familiarity of her voice was exactly what Celeste needed. It brought her back to the days when Julie lived down the hall. When Julie took care of her and brought her a new life in so many ways. Having a friend six years her senior was helpful, since Celeste needed all the worldly wisdom she could get.
“A boy was at the house. I did not invite him, but nonetheless he was here. First I saw him in Harvard Square, and he bowed and I curtsied, and then he appeared at the house tonight unscheduled, and I stumbled and he caught me, and then he stumbled, but I did not catch him. Not because I am heartless, but because I was not in the position to catch him. Physically, that is. Although I suppose emotionally, as well. However, he is quite self-sufficient. I am humiliated, given that I failed to present myself properly, and certainly not as top-notch collegiate material, which was, of course, the purpose of his visit to the house. I feel sure that my red hair and figure-hugging catsuit did not give me the studious air I would have opted for.” Celeste threw herself onto her bed and put a hand over her eyes. “I am unclear what has happened tonight. A myriad of emotions is overtaking me.”
“Celeste?”
“Yes, Julie.”
“You have red hair and are… dressing differently?”
“There was a failed attempt at becoming lead singer for a band. Never mind that right now. There are more pressing matters that require your attention.”
“Take a breath.”
“But I curtsied, and he got down on one knee! What is that supposed to mean?”
“Wait, what? Did someone propose to you?”
“No, of course not. That is an alarming presumption.”
Julie’s giggle was not well suppressed. “Okay, then. Start from the beginning.”
“His name is Justin Milano, and he is a student liaison for Barton College. They are courting me.”
“The college is courting you or Justin is courting you?”
Celeste let out a loud sigh. “The college! Focus, please.”
“Yes, ma’am. Continue. Slowly, please, and give me details in chronological order.”
“Yes, that is a smart idea. I knew that you would be good at managing this situation. Here is what has transpired so far. I should not say so far. It is over. If I say so far, then it leads one to assume there will be more incidents that will transpire, and there will not. But I will tell you the details of these past, never-to-be-repeated-or-added-to events.”
“Oh my God, you’re killing me. Tell me now!”
Celeste started with the emails and narrated all of the events leading up to Justin’s tumble down the stairs and subsequent departure. Julie needed to have all of the facts in order to assess the damage properly.
“This is all most awkward. Yet, Julie? I feel exhilarated. I am experiencing strange sensations.”
“Is there a chance—you know, just maybe—that you have a crush?”
“A what? I do not have crushes. I have college to prepare for and dye to wash out of my hair. And… and… college!”
“Okay,” Julie said calmly. “It was just a thought. Although even if you aren’t interested, it sounds to me as if he may like you.”
“No. That is not the case.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so. I am agitated and must take a shower now. Thank you for helping me put this situation to bed. Er, not to bed. One should not reference a bed when speaking about Justin. That would be highly inappropriate. And a cliché. We have put the matter to rest. There. It is done. I have externalized the chaotic events of the day, and now I can return to my normal stasis. Good night, Julie. Thank you for your guidance.”
“I didn’t exactly—“
“Good night!”
She took a thirty minute shower and shampooed her hair repeatedly, which did not seem to do much to remove the dye and then wrapped it in a towel as she stood on the floor of the shower. She reached for her oversized robe and tried to relax into the familiar comfort of the thick terrycloth. The day had officially been washed away, and she could move on. Except that when she got back to her room, she heard the sound of a text coming through.
Justin: Friday night? You, me, and Mr. “I Wear Two Watches” Fritz? Appetizers? Anywhere you want!
Celeste pulled the robe tighter around her and threw the phone into her pocket. She flinched when the sound of two more texts came through the fabric.
Justin: Oh, it’s Justin, by the way. You might not have my number in your phone yet.
Justin: I could pick you up. 7 pm?
This was not part of the plan. Perhaps it had been an unrealistic expectation that she could vanquish him and pretend he didn’t exist. She had to admit that there was a part of her that felt uncharacteristically comfortable corresponding with him. Communicating in person, however, was an entirely different story. Justin didn’t really know anything about her, and the way that she had presented herself tonight in that getup certainly hadn’t given an accurate picture of who she really was. If she were, for some reason, to agree to meet with this Mr. Fritz, she would strongly prefer that it happen in a more formal environment.
Her phone went crazy.
Justin: I know where you live.
Justin: Wait, I didn’t mean that in a creepy way…
Justin: Hello? Oh gawd… Did I freak you out?
Justin: I just meant that I would know where to pick you up. And it’s not like I’d show up in a van with the windows all blacked out. That’d be super creepy.
Justin: I drive a Prius.
Justin: Nobody gets abducted in a Prius, right?
Celeste laughed and clapped a hand over her mouth. Then she sighed. She would have to reply.
Celeste: I am not sure that is a good idea.
Celeste: This meeting with Mr. Fritz, that is. Clearly abduction would not be a good idea.
He wrote back immediately.
Justin: But you’ll think about it?
Celeste squirmed.
Celeste: I will think about it.
That should put him off for now. He would forget about her by then anyway. That’s what she wanted. Or what she should want. It had taken years to perfect her tunnel vision; she saw her parents, Matt, and Julie clearly, while everyone else in the world took on a hazy blur.
Justin should be a blur.