And then I decided to include research on Emily Bront?.
Her idea of a love story was pissing me the hell off. Don’t get me wrong—I think Wuthering Heights is a fantastic book. But I just can’t get behind the love story. It doesn’t fit with the rest of my research. In fact, it disproves my research in a way, because it goes to show that love transverses death, and death is certainly not something I consider a happily ever after.
I walk briskly to my car on the edge of campus. I graduate in a week, and then I’m done. I spent almost seven years here, having gotten my bachelor’s and now master’s degrees in English Literature. It’s petrifying, knowing I’m thrusting myself out into the real world with a shit degree.
There’s no denying it. English Literature is kind of an imprudent degree. It’s a great degree to have if I want to teach, but I have serious issues with the American school system, so I’ve been toying with the idea of teaching abroad. My friend Mia taught in Abu Dhabi for a year and loved it. I honestly have no idea where I’ll end up in the real world, but my boyfriend, Dan, has already promised me an interview at the publishing house where he works. It’s not ideal, but finding a job even remotely related to my degree is shocking. I wonder if Dan would move to Abu Dhabi with me?
I turn on the car and one of my favorite songs starts up. Na?ve by The Kooks. I instinctively start to dance while I drive. I think about texting Dan, but it might be nice to surprise him. I drive down I-5 and turn onto East Olive Drive, and then right on Thirteenth Avenue. I look for a parking spot. I don’t love this neighborhood, but Dan and I are hesitant to leave, because the rent is cheap and it’s close to everything. I find a spot and parallel park.
I gather my backpack and walk quickly to our apartment building. I’m giddy to surprise Dan. If anyone can make me feel better about my data comparing and contrasting the Bront? sisters, it’s Dan. He’ll be happy I’m home. And I’m in a serious baking mood, so I start to concoct an idea for cupcakes based on the ingredients we have in our fridge. It’ll be a cupcake experiment. Maybe I should’ve gone to culinary school…
Speaking of Dan, my mind starts to race when I think about our talk last night. He was very serious, and he kept mentioning our future together, and how he was starting to realize what he wanted out of life. I had to interrupt him though, and our talk got put on hold. I skip the rest of the way to our building, happy and in love. Maybe he’ll continue the conversation tonight?
I don’t want to say the “P” word out loud, but Violet thinks he’s going to make it official soon. And God, I want that so badly.
I riffle through my purse for my keys, finally finding them and unlocking the door. The lights are off, and it smells like a perfumery. That’s weird. I stop and look around.
“Hello?” I call out.
He must be asleep in the bedroom. I set my purse down on the couch and skip over to the bedroom door.
That’s when I hear a giggle.
A female giggle.
What?
My heart stops, and I try to compose myself. Maybe Violet and Marcus are over. Sometimes they all hang out in the bedroom—it’s the only place we have a television. I have to be rational. My first instinct is always irrationality, and I always worry for nothing. This is nothing.
Maybe.
I slowly open the bedroom door.
And I scream.
“Evi!” Dan yells, hopping out of bed naked—naked. Mia, one of my best friends, wraps herself in the six-hundred-thread-count sheet she helped me pick out at Target. He quickly throws on a pair of jeans. “What—what are you doing here?” he asks incredulously, as if I’m the one doing something wrong here. As if I’m interrupting him. Mia just sighs exasperatedly and throws the comforter over her head.
“What the fuck is going on?” I screech. I feel the tears start to spring from my eyes. “Seriously, Dan?”
He walks over to me, but I back up. I feel my heart racing, and I squeeze my eyes shut.