Page 30 of Proof

He blinked several times. “I . . . I had no idea.”

“Bull.” She turned and walked away as quickly as possible without knocking people over. She took the long way back to her dorm. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, and she gasped, trying to contain her emotions before she got back to her room. But there was no hiding the sheer look of humiliation on her face. She dashed past the reception desk, ran toward the elevator, and pushed the DOOR CLOSE button several times. Thankfully, her roommate hadn’t returned from class, so she had a couple of hours to regroup.

An hour later, Brendan phoned her. “Luna, listen. I’m really sorry I hurt you.”

“I’ll get over it.” She struggled to seem cavalier.

“I want us to still be friends.” He sounded awkward.

“Maybe. But not right now. I need time to adjust. I gotta go.” She ended the call, folded her arms on her desk, buried her head, and bawled her eyes out again until she fell asleep. She was gutted. Mortified.

A few hours later, a stabbing pain in her neck woke her up. “Ouch!” It took her a few seconds to gather her wits. When she sat up, she noticed the ink on the paper was smudged with drool and tears. “Wow. I should have seen that coming.”

Her roommate looked up from the book she was reading. “Seen what coming? You okay? I tried not to wake you.”

Luna nodded her head. Her bloodshot eyes and her reddened nose told a different story. A story about someone who’d just learned something dreadful. “Just me being an idiot, that’s all.”

“Want to talk about it?” her roommate asked.

“Not really.” Luna got up, brushed her teeth, put on her pajamas, and crawled into bed.

The next morning, she phoned the professor who taught the class she and Brendan were in and explained she had gotten food poisoning over the weekend and wouldn’t be attending his lecture. He gave her the assignment and told her to “feel better.” As if . . .

Two days later, she knew she had to show her face, but decided to sit in the back row instead of her usual seat next to Brendan. There were almost two hundred students in the large room, and she was comfortable sitting behind all of them. She saw Brendan crane his neck and look in her direction, but she pretended not to notice. The minute the bell rang, she was out the door like lightning. She heard him calling her name and moved as fast as possible to get to her next class. The one he wasn’t in. She was grateful they only shared one class this semester. It made it much easier for her to avoid him. He texted her a few times, but she kept replying with, Please leave me alone. Finally, he did.

Christmas break was only a few weeks away, and it was a good opportunity for Luna to regroup. The last day, she finally reached out to him. She texted, Enjoy the holiday. He replied, You too.

Once she was home with her family, she began to feel more like herself. Her brother was in the Air Force and planned on coming home for a few days. Luna knew it would be the elixir she needed before she returned to school in the new year.

After several hilarious conversations with her brother, she realized how uplifted she felt. Then it hit her like a brick. It was the endorphins. Laughter triggers endorphins. Endorphins cause the levels of cortisol to go down, and cortisol is considered a “stress hormone.” It made perfect sense. All the laughter she experienced with Brendan gave her surges of endorphins. No wonder she felt so good when she was around him and was so devastated at the thought of losing him. Laughter was the best medicine, and she vowed to include it in her daily routine and never again let one person ruin her mood, her day, or her life. At the very least, she would try.

* * *

Luna snapped to attention when Wylie rested his head on her knee. She was in the exact same position she’d fallen into that fateful night, with her head cradled in her arms on her desk. Had she been dreaming? Was she reliving her past, channeling those same emotions? It was a flashback that felt all too real. It was as if she’d stepped into another realm. A fugue state. A different dimension. The dried tears on her face confirmed it. What was going on? She hoped it was hormones. It was loony, even for her. She leaned over and placed her head on top of Wylie’s. “What is wrong with me, pal?” He bumped her chin lightly with his nose. “Nothing? You mean I’m normal?” Wylie cocked his head. “Okay, not normal-normal.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank goodness you understand me.”

She looked at the clock. It was past midnight. “Come on, buddy. Time for your last visit to the doggie bathroom.” She walked to the kitchen and let him out to run around the fenced-in yard one more time before they both hit the sheets. She made a cup of herbal tea, let him back in, and gave him a treat. “This is literally a midnight snack, pal.” He looked up at her with his big brown eyes. He knew. Dogs knew. They were often smarter than people.

Luna tossed and turned all night. She was drawing similarities between the way her relationship had developed with Chris and with Brendan. They were friends first. Pals. Was there something ominous in the phone call earlier? What was on Chris’s mind? She hadn’t seen him for almost three weeks. Was the impending conversation going to be a repeat of Brendan’s rejection of her love and affection? Chris hadn’t said “love you” when they hung up after the call. Why not? Did she say it to him? No. Had he said it before? Yes. But how long had it been?

Luna could read people like a book. Except when it came to her own romantic relationships. She presumed the universe wanted her to learn lessons in life, particularly her own. And if you don’t learn it the first time, you were likely to repeat it. One lesson she had to constantly remind herself of was that love came in all shapes and sizes and, at its root, it was pure. It should not come with restraints or conditions. She recalled the Richard Bach platitude about setting something free if you love it—but who has that kind of power, anyway? She thought again. It was about releasing and letting go. But one could only do that in one’s own mind. One thing was certain: love could be very painful, and right now, she was suffering the pain of losing a friend. She’d lost him once to another love, then ultimately released her pain. But this feeling was something entirely different and much, much sadder.

Her thoughts returned to Chris. Intellectually, she knew her relationship with Chris was solid. It was her emotional insecurity that was speaking much too loudly.

Luna kept punching the pillow, trying to find a comfortable position. It was impossible. Her brain was in overdrive. Wylie was at the foot of the bed, eyeing her every move. “I know, I know. Sorry, pal. My mind is not cooperating.”

She flung herself back against the pile of pillows and remembered how she and Brendan had reconciled their friendship. They hadn’t been in another class together during the final semester, so she saw very little of him. Several weeks before graduation, Brendan sent her a text congratulating her on her award for her extracurricular work with underprivileged children. When she read the text, she realized her heart no longer felt heavy. She still loved him, but the emotion had morphed into fondness. She replied with her thanks and wished him all the best in his future endeavors.

She wasn’t surprised when he told her he was moving to Minnesota. He and Eileen were getting married. Again, she wished him “all the best,” and she meant it. They vowed to keep in touch, but she figured he wouldn’t. Much to her surprise, he did. For the next fifteen years, he sent her birthday wishes, and she did the same; occasionally, they checked in with each other about world events.

During the pandemic, he reached out to her to see if she was okay, which began a weekly banter of one-liners from Young Frankenstein and Blazing Saddles. She could finally share laughter with her old friend again. But then several months passed with no contact. It was also odd that he hadn’t responded to any of her emails. She thought perhaps Eileen was jealous and had put a stop to the communication, but Luna decided she was going to make one more attempt to reach out once she got past the event at the center and the weekend ahead.

Chapter Eight

Thursday Morning

Law Offices of Evan Houston, Esq.

And So It Begins . . .

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