Make Your Home Among Strangers

—You know what, whatever, Ethan. I said congratulations. What do you want?

 

—There’s no reason for you to resent me for this! I didn’t think you’d be this way.

 

I did resent him—that was exactly it—I resented him for having a future where he could put his mom in her place, and that that place wasn’t ahead of what he wanted for himself. I grabbed my books and started shoving them in my bag.

 

—Well sorry to disappoint you. Sorry I didn’t get on my knees to suck your dick the second I saw that letter. Is that what you wanted?

 

His hands went up into his hair, the envelope still in one of them and so resting against his face. I waited for him to say Fuck you or Maybe it is and grab his crotch—the way Omar would to keep the fight rising. But Ethan folded over and hid his face. He heaved tired laughs into his hands, but when he stood back up, the skin around his eyes glowed red.

 

—Christ, I cannot believe you just said that.

 

—Ethan, I don’t know what you want me to say!

 

—Not that! Jesus! Why are you acting like this?

 

I zipped up my jacket even though the room was too hot.

 

—Don’t worry about it.

 

He held the envelope up in front of my face and said, I’m not going to. I couldn’t be happier. I thought you’d get that better than anyone, but clearly I’m wrong.

 

He picked up his bag, slung it back over his shoulders.

 

—Ethan, I’m sorry. I’m just upset, okay?

 

He faced me again, his lips drawn into his mouth. It doesn’t matter, he said.

 

He looked at the ground, and his hair flopped over his forehead.

 

—I was so happy when I saw it was you in here, he said. I’m an idiot.

 

With the long edge of the envelope, he tapped the table twice, then looked through the glass walls down the hallway. He said, Forget this, I’m getting another RA to fill in here, then calling my mom to get that over with. Then I’m celebrating.

 

I tried to undo what I’d done by saying as he walked away, Your mom’s gonna freak, she’s gonna be so proud of you.

 

He shrugged, tapped the glass door with the envelope like he had the table.

 

—She won’t know what it means. But she’ll be happy to hear I won’t be moving back home for good this summer.

 

Someone came through the door—a resident who Ethan said hi to. His hello was just a nod, a stiff hand raised: serious and so Not Ethan in its perfunctory delivery that it proved how much I’d hurt him.

 

—I swear I’m happy for you, Ethan. I didn’t mean what I said before to come out like that. I’m the idiot, okay?

 

—Have a good spring break, Lizet. Maybe I’ll see you when you get back.

 

I wasn’t going anywhere, not until Easter, but I couldn’t explain why now, so there was no point in correcting him. The study lounge’s glass door closed after him. He turned back with a little envelope-accentuated salute—the closest thing to a joke he could muster—before disappearing down the hall.

 

*

 

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