And I felt like I was going to be sick. I went outside to the garden and sunk into a dented plastic chair, lowering my head between my knees. Then I noticed another couple in the corner of the patio, snuggled close, sharing a cigarette.
“Fuck,” I said. They looked at me, startled. Couples everywhere, reminding me of what I didn’t have. It was horrible. For so many years, I’d been one half of a whole. I knew that the wine was making it worse, but I couldn’t help it. All this affection, this electric desire zipping through the air—it made me feel unloved and worthless. I was twenty-two years old, for God’s sake. When was the last time someone had kissed me like that?
On Thursday night, two nights earlier, Evan had gotten home just after I’d returned from dinner with Adam. He dropped his briefcase and coat on the floor, went to the kitchen, opened the door to the refrigerator, and stared into the chilly blue light.
“We have nothing to eat,” he said. That was his greeting. “What did you eat?”
“I, uh, picked up a slice of pizza on the way home.”
He sighed and shut the refrigerator. Then he collapsed on the futon next to me.
“Is everything okay at work? You’re home pretty early.”
“Fine. Things are slow this week. Should be back to normal soon.” He stared at his hands, picking at a cuticle. He didn’t know what to do, or where to look.
“Okay. Well, I’m going to go to bed.”
Eventually he slid into bed next to me. I switched off my lamp, and we lay there in the darkness. It had been nearly a month since we’d had sex. Evan’s leg brushed against mine, and he left it there. My pulse accelerated. A minute later, I rested my fingertips on the back of his hand. He was perfectly still, and then he rolled over, away from me. From his breathing, I could tell he was already asleep.
Maybe that was the power Evan wielded in our relationship. I was so used to his presence that when he pulled away, it left me spinning. I took it for granted, like the subways running regularly or the water coming out of the faucet. Even then, even with everything, Evan gave me what I hadn’t yet learned to provide for myself.
*
Sophomore year, one rainy night in March, Adam and his housemates threw a party. I was insistent that Evan come, which should have been a red flag. I’d gone to plenty of parties without him. Was I trying to protect myself from what awaited? It seems obvious now.
“Jules, seriously. I don’t want to go.” Evan was slumped on his couch, playing a video game. “Just go by yourself. It’s not like I’m going to know anyone there. And I’m still beat from last night. And it’s pouring.”
“I don’t care,” I said. I felt like stamping my feet. He’d been consumed by the hockey season for the previous four months. He needed to care about me for a change. “Evan, come on. You said last night that you would.”
“Fine.” He tossed aside the controller. “I don’t remember saying that, though.”
Adam was in the foyer when we arrived. A fizz of excitement: I’d never been inside his house before. In the kitchen, I stood where I had a view of the living room and the rest of the party. I hoped that I’d catch Adam again later in the night. The beer had already loosened me. I just wanted to talk to Adam: that was it. Nothing was going to happen.
“Are you an athlete?” one girl was asking Evan.
“I’m on the hockey team.”
“Oh,” I said, thinking of something. “Oh, I have to tell you guys the funniest thing. So last night—” I looked over at Evan, but he was staring off, not listening. Evan’s teammate Sebi had made a fool of himself at the party the previous night, pissing on the crowd next door from an upstairs window. Everyone laughed uproariously at the end of the story. I couldn’t help laughing, too. It was funnier in the retelling.
Later, as the group disbanded and I started to wonder where Adam was, Evan grabbed me by the wrist.
“Ow. Jesus.”
“What the hell, Jules? That was embarrassing.”
I rubbed my wrist, though it didn’t hurt that much. It was more the surprise. Evan had a look on his face. Not anger—disappointment. Scolding. What the fuck is wrong with him? I thought. After months of ignoring me, this was what I get? I snapped at him, then pushed through the living room. The bathroom door was locked. I made my way upstairs instead and found another bathroom door ajar. I locked it behind me, lowered the toilet lid, and sat down, pressing my palms into my closed eyes.