He laughed. “How is Julia? You guys are still dating, right?”
Did he know how close to the truth he was cutting? “She’s fine.”
“Just fine?”
I felt something tightening inside. To be honest, that was the real reason Arthur and I hadn’t talked much since school ended. The night before graduation, we’d run into each other at the pizza place on Broadway. We got our late-night usual: one slice of cheese for him, two pepperoni for me. We wound up in my bedroom, talking, reminiscing. I was sitting in my desk chair, and Arthur was perched on my bed, swinging his feet above the floor. I was halfway packed, posters stripped from the walls and the closet rattling with empty hangers. The next morning, in a few short hours, we would don our caps and gowns and assemble for the graduation procession. Arthur was talking about the Obama campaign, how his work would put him on the front lines of history. He sometimes turned a little grandiose when he was drunk.
“Are you nervous at all?” I asked.
“No. This is what I’m meant to be doing. I know it.” He drummed his fingers against his thighs and nodded, lost in his own thoughts. Then looked up at me, his eyes narrowing. “But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you nervous?”
“For what?”
“Well.” Arthur swept his hands across the room. “Everything. New York. Your new job. But mostly, dun-dun-dunnn—moving in with your girlfriend.”
I laughed. “Nah. Not really.”
Arthur went quiet. A heavy expression descended on his face.
“Well, maybe you should be.”
“What does that mean?”
“I just mean,” Arthur said, “it’s a serious step to take. Moving in together. Are you really ready for it? Sometimes I wonder whether you’ve thought it through.”
“Wait. Wait, what? I don’t remember you saying any of this when I was actually making this decision.”
“Well, honestly, I kept hoping you’d see it on your own.”
“See what on my own?”
“What a colossal mistake this is.”
I jerked my head back and laughed. This had to be some kind of joke.
But Arthur took a deep breath. “She’s just—well. Look, I’m not trying to offend you. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. But Julia can be difficult, right? I know how it’s been with you guys. And I worry that without some space between you, some breathing room, she could drag you down into the morass with her.”
My hands were gripping the back of the desk chair. So hard that I thought the wood might splinter. “This is my girlfriend you’re talking about,” I finally said.
“I know. But I’ve known you a long time, Evan, and I’ve known her a long time, too. And she can just be so…well, self-pitying. You’ve seen what she’s like when she’s in a bad mood. And I know she’s had a hard time finding a job—”
“Oh, come on,” I snapped. “That is so petty. She’ll get a job.”
“Right, well, that’s not exactly the point. The point is whether it’s a good idea to be moving in with someone so self-centered.”
“You’re calling her self-centered?” I shouted.
He stared back at me. “Yes.”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t think it was for your own good.”
“Oh, well, in that case.”
Arthur sighed. “Forget it. Forget I said anything.”
I stood up and opened the door. “It’s late. I think you should go.”
The next morning, we managed to act like nothing happened. These would be the pictures printed and framed, to be looked at years later: graduation day, all of college reduced down to a single snapshot. Julia had her camera with her, and she made us pose together, two roommates with their arms slung around each other. Still best friends, four years later, amid a sea of black polyester robes fluttering in the May breeze.
My mind snapped back to the present. The glowing, blipping computer monitor in front of me, the hum of the lights overhead. Arthur on the other end of the line.
“Julia? Uh, no, she’s good. I don’t see that much of her. I’m barely ever home. But she seems to keep busy.”
“That’s good.”
There was a long pause. Arthur cleared his throat. “Well, they’re about to carve the turkey. I’d better get going.”
We hung up and promised, emptily, to talk again soon.
*