Page 38 of Considering Us

“Wow,” he said, shaking his head as we began to walk around the pond. “I never would’ve thought.”

I took a breath. “I’ve missed hanging out with you.”

“Me, too.”

“Where were you last night?”How was that only last night?I felt like I had lived a week during the previous twenty-four or so hours.

“Singing Oasis and making a damn fool out of myself,” he said, not making eye contact with me. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable at all. It’s been a rough stretch for me, and all I could think about was what we listened to that night. Why I felt compelled to croon into a microphone in front of all of Rockwood is beyond me.” He still wasn’t looking at me, and I didn’t dare try to initiate even a quick look for fear of where it would lead. I had been down this literal path just weeks before.

“Ryland came up to me and said you were singing about Cora.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“Preaching to the choir there. Those were good songs we listened to that night. And I’m sorry for anything I’ve done wrong. I never want to hurt you.” We were on our second lap around the pond. Stopping could mean trouble, so we kept going.

“I know that. Deep down, I know that.”

“I looked for you after you sang. I couldn’t find you, but I was worried about you.” I allowed myself a glance his way and saw his face soften.

“You did?”

“Of course.”

He sighed. “I got right into my car and drove to the beach. I needed to be at the ocean, even though it was too dark to really see it. I could hear it and feel it, though. What is it about the ocean? Anyway, then I drove to Boston and slept in my car untilAnnie was awake so I could take her to breakfast. I looked and probably smelled awesome. I don’t think Cora has any regrets, trust me.”

I laughed. “And then you came back to all of this fabulousness.”

“The flyers of Andrea in the bikini riding The Stallion might be my favorite.”

“They are ridiculous. I feel terrible for her, but good lord, I can’t stop laughing when I see them. How did your car get written on if you were gone?”

“No clue. It must have happened after I got back this morning. Maybe after the criminals came back to campus?”

“That’s terrible. Did you hear what they did to Ryland?” I figured this would cheer him up a bit.

“No! Give me the dirt!” It felt like earlier that fall when we would walk and chat and tell stories.

“Someone got into his apartment and plastic-wrapped his toilet. Apparently, he got hit by a big ol’ spray. From himself.”

“Ugh! I love it! How did you hear about this?”

“The kitchen staff was talking about it when I went in there to check on things a little while ago. Marnie found out somehow.”

“That is amazing,” he said, shaking his head.

“Okay, I’m starving,” I said. “Want some sesame chicken? I can assure you it’s better than the ten-dollar turkey dinner my parents are eating.”

“Sure,” he said, and we walked back toward the woods. “Just so you know, all the songs from, you know, that night? I was making them into a CD that day in London—when Lila came into the room for the first time. I was going to send it to you in DC. I know you thought I had forgotten about you, but I hadn’t.”

Back in those days, making a CD for someone was a time-consuming and somewhat intimate gesture.Why is he just telling me this now?“What did you do with the CD?” I asked aswe came out of the woods and reached the main campus path just as students were walking to dinner. “Throw it out? Lose it?”

He shook his head. “I brought it back from London when I moved back. It’s in my parents’ house in Connecticut somewhere. I have a few bins of old stuff. But it’s there. I still have it.

Kids started walking past us, several turning their heads to look at us, a few saying hi. It all felt like slow motion as I took it in that the CD was made up of those songs, the ones that we listened to as we sat in an anonymous dorm room that belonged to neither of us, talking and then not talking, on a night that would forever connect us, over fifteen years earlier. And that it still lived in a basement Rubbermaid tub, likely amidst soccer trophies, old goalie gloves, and perhaps some term papers that were once worth saving, now yellowed and faded. I watched Kyle banter with his students in his quirky way, and more than anything, I wanted to reach for him.

19

“You like this guy.” David had been planking for what felt like a ridiculous amount of time. I was sweating just watching him.

---