She assesses her appearance in the mirror and rubs her lips together. “You want to come with me?”
I don’t have my usual urge to run away screaming, which I find interesting. “I actually have a friend in town this weekend, and we’re still recovering from last night. But thanks.” I start toward a free shower stall and then look back. I’m nervous and shaking a bit, but I say, “Maybe next weekend?”
“Yeah. That’d be great.”
I set my bath products on the floor of the shower, hang my robe, and turn the faucet to just below scalding. A shower has never felt so good, and I take my time, praying that this shower will clear my head of the jumbled mess that’s swirling around inside. I wish Steffi could stay longer, especially with what’s been going on. My usual quiet college life has been turned upside down, and I don’t know what’s going to hit next. Although, I must admit I don’t actually feel unhappy right now, and not just because Steffi is still here. Now that I’ve at least had a conversation with Esben, the entire video incident feels less unpleasant, and I don’t have constant waves of anger or shame crashing over me the way I did before. Perhaps, as Steffi suggested, Esben is an exception. I don’t know.
When I get back to the room, Steffi is still gone, so I text her. My stomach is growling like crazy, and I hope she actually did get five orders of dumplings, because I could down them all in a flash. After a few minutes, she replies that she got lost going to the restaurant, and now they’re backed up. I set to tidying up the common area, and the box tower grabs my attention. I debate for a bit, then take a box from the top of the pile and bring it to my bedroom.
I set it on the bed and stare at it. Then I move it to the desk, and I sit on the bed and stare at it. Then I stand up and pace back and forth like a tiger in a cage. For the first time, I am yearning to open one of these boxes, and it also feels like I’m up against a challenge, as though I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t open any of these care packages because I don’t deserve them. Now I’m tempted to cave.
Screw it.
I grab some scissors and slice the tape. After a few deep breaths, I open the box.
Immediately, I start laughing. The top layer of the care package is made up of microwavable macaroni and cheese cups. It’s so perfect. When I’ve got my giggling under control, I see what else Simon has sent. Plastic spoons, lemon cookies, and tea bags (for a tea party, Simon insists!), instant soups, hair ties, body lotions in various fruit scents, socks with monkeys on them, a ten-cup coffeepot, a bag of ground Sumatra, two red mugs, individual raw sugar packets, and a twenty-dollar bill earmarked for pizza. He’s included a card, and on the front is a picture of a leopard seal. Inside, he has written: Allison— Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a card with a leopard seal on it? Very. In fact, they do not seem to exist, so yours truly made one using an online photo service. THAT’S DEDICATION!
Let me know if there are other things you would like me to send for you, even though that is unlikely, because I know that you are not opening these boxes, and that’s okay. I’m still going to send them, because that’s what fathers do for their daughters. Or maybe it’s just what I do for you, my sweet girl.
I hope one day you’ll be ready to open these, but if that day never comes, that will also be okay.
Much love,
Simon
Five times I read the note, and then I cannot get to my phone fast enough.
“Hi, kiddo. How are you?” Simon answers with his usual cheer.
“How did you know I wasn’t opening the care packages?” I demand.
He laughs. “Well, honey, every time you call to thank me, you are very polite but very vague. I figured that if you’d been opening them, I would have heard something about the inflatable unicorn, which I knew you wouldn’t find funny, but I do.”
“I’ve only opened one box.” I pause. “You sent me an inflatable unicorn?”
“Maybe . . .”
“Simon?”
“Yes?”
“I really like the coffeemaker.”
“I’m so glad.”
“And I’m going to open the rest of the stuff you sent.”
“Whenever you want.”
I realize that I am smiling broadly. “Hey, know what? Guess who is here?”
“Santa Claus? The Easter Bunny?”
I laugh. “No. Steffi. She flew in for the weekend to surprise me.”
“Wow, that is a surprise. That’s a long trip for such a short time. Anything urgent going on?”
“No,” I say too quickly. “No, it’s just . . . well, she got all worked up over something that happened. There’s this boy, and . . . I don’t know.”
“Ahhh,” he says. “A boy. A boy you like?”
“I don’t like him like him. It’s just something weird happened between us, and Steffi got crazy over it.”
Simon’s voice grows concerned. “Something weird meaning that I should be mailing a box of condoms instead of coffeepots?”
“What? Simon! Oh my God!”
“Just checking.”
I hear rattling at the door. “Can I explain another time? Steffi is back with dinner. But don’t worry. Everything is fine.”
“If you say so. Call again soon, will you? I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
I am frozen with the phone in my hand after I hang up. I don’t believe I’ve ever told Simon I miss him. But I do. I realize that now. I’m allowing myself to miss him.
Clearly, I am having some kind of bizarre midcollege crisis in which my mind is being taken over and replaced by someone else’s.
Steffi is now kicking the door from the outside and hollering at me. “Hello? A little damn help here would be nice!”
I jolt from my poor attempt at self-analysis and rush to the door. Steffi is holding an enormous paper bag in one hand and a plastic bag from the liquor store in the other. “The handle on the Chinese-food bag ripped, and we’re about to have a lo-mein disaster of epic proportions.”
“Where have you been?” I ask as I take the bag of food. “You’ve been gone for ages.”
“I told you. Got lost, long wait, blah, blah. Let’s eat. And drink!”
She sits on the floor and pulls out a bottle of tequila. “Picnic time. Let’s just set everything out here.”
“I guess. I’ll get a towel or something—”
“Stop being so uptight. Sit. Eat. Don’t worry about messes. There are bigger problems in the world than a bit of soy sauce on the rug.”
I frown but sit down anyway and start to set out the cartons of food. “You’re as slobby as Esben.”
She unscrews the cap from the tequila and takes a long drink. “Esben’s a slob? I knew I liked him. And you got past my lack of obsessive-compulsive tidiness, so you can get past his.”
I can feel her staring at me with hopeful eyes while I locate chopsticks and dig in to the carton of dumplings. “He helped find a lost parrot once. Using social media. I looked through his old pages. Stuff that he’s done.”
“I saw that parrot one!” she squeals. “Did you see how he started a dance party in a mall once?”