John broke up with her on Labor Day, just before the second week of school. The long weekend had been a frat-party bacchanalia. On Friday and Saturday, he’d dutifully told every hot girl who tried to flirt with him that he had a girlfriend in North Carolina.
But then on Sunday, when AC/DC rang through a crowded, beer-stale basement, and a cute brunette leaned her head in close to his, he didn’t stop her.
He broke up with Sammy the next day. Told her that he needed to be independent, to figure out who he really was, all kinds of vague bullshit that he knew she’d see right through.
“You hooked up with someone else?” she’d asked, her voice rising in a way that signaled tears were on the way.
She’d hung up on him before he could hear her cry.
He hadn’t gotten to the chance to tell her that the drunken make-outs were less exciting each time. He longed to call Sammy and tell her about the antics of his dinosaur of a world civ professor, with his nasally voice and his Grateful Dead T-shirts and the hilarious way he had of saying “Byzantium.” He wanted to tell her that he often wondered whether he’d rushed too quickly to embrace the no-strings-attached spirit of college. What if he’d already had the perfect relationship and had stupidly pissed all over it?
Now, here it was, the book she’d given him just a couple of weeks before he’d broken her heart. His dad was pushing him to do premed, but he wanted to be a journalist, and so she’d bought him The Elements of Style, the writer’s standby.
He flipped it open to the first page and read the inscription:
J
Don’t ever let anyone tell you you can’t be what you want to be. You got this.
xxoo
Sammy
John glanced up, and Juan was staring at him, hand shoved deep into the Cheetos bag.
“What?” John asked.
“You wanna order a pizza?”
“No,” John said quickly, glancing back to the book.
Before he could stop himself, he grabbed his phone and headed to the balcony where both reception—and privacy—were better.
I watched in dread—it was too late for me to do anything. I could see how he was hoping she would give him a second chance.
And I had the most horrible hunch that she would.
boys do cry
“How do I look?” Piper asked Gael proudly as she and his mom came down the hallway and into the living room on Wednesday afternoon.
Halloween had finally arrived, and Gael and his dad were standing awkwardly in the living room. His mom was going to take Piper trick-or-treating, but his dad had insisted on coming over to see her costume and take some pictures, as if they were all a big happy family once again.
Piper, for her part, reveled in the attention. She was decked out in pasty white makeup, a silver-gray wig, and bright feathers in her hair. Her dress poofed out at the sides to ridiculous proportions, and she held a fan his dad had gotten on Sunday at a junk shop in Carrboro.
Gael took a picture with his phone. “Awesome sauce.”
“Qu’ils mangent de la brioche!” Piper cried with bravado. “That means, let them eat cake.”
“I guessed as much,” Gael said.
“But it actually meant that she didn’t care about poor people,” she said. “Sammy told me.”
Gael couldn’t help but laugh.
His mom pulled out her phone. “Let me get one of everyone.”
“We’re not even dressed up,” Gael said.
His mom waved his protest off with a flick of her hand. “Who cares? I just want all of you together.”
Why? he wanted to ask. Why pretend like things are all right when they so obviously aren’t?
But he didn’t want to cause a scene. He couldn’t ruin Piper’s moment—he’d already done plenty of that lately.
Gael and his dad took their places on either side of Piper. His sister’s dress was so big his mom had to turn the phone sideways to get them all in. Piper struck pose after pose, while his dad beamed. His mom even jumped in for a selfie with the four of them.
After myriad photos, Gael cleared his throat and grabbed his bag of Halloween costume supplies. “I really gotta go,” Gael said, when his mom refused to put the phone down.
“All right, all right,” she said, popping the phone into her pocket and bending down to adjust one of Piper’s ruffles.
His mom stood up and crossed her arms like she did when she was worried for his safety. “Now be careful, and don’t do anything stupid. No drinking. No drugs. No hassling the cops. I don’t want to see you getting pepper-sprayed on the news. Cops these days.” She rolled her eyes.
“Mom.”
“Fine, fine. Off you go.”
He gave his mom and Piper a hug, but he didn’t bother saying bye to his dad.
His dad followed Gael outside, anyway. Since the split, Gael swore his dad was like a needy fourth-grader, looking for friends.
His dad clicked the key to unlock his Subaru. “Let me give you a ride to Franklin.”
A small group of trick-or-treaters approached a neighbor’s house nearby, and Gael watched as a mini ghost tripped over his sheet.
“It’s not far,” Gael said, shaking his head. “I’ll walk.”
“Come on,” his dad said. “I want to drive you.”
“I’m not even going to Franklin. I’m going to my friend’s on campus first.”
“Even better. I have to pick up something at my office.”