Natalia: I had fun tonight. It was nice catching up with you.
Natalia: And I really needed a friend. So thanks.
I smirk. The same words that Caitlyn said to me, sated from our postcoital bliss, feel different coming from Natalia.
Me: Anytime, Marquez.
10
Natalia
senior year
“Didyou hear the big gossip going around school?” I whisper as I slide onto my stool. Hayden looks up from his notebook. The eraser end of his pencil lightly taps the college-ruled spiral bound as he plays along with my guessing game.
“That Ben and Tina hooked up in the back of her Civic?”
“Ew, no.”
He shrugs. “Well, that’s the big gossip going around school.”
“Yes, but we’re talking about me.”
“Okay, what’s this big gossip going around about you?” He drops his pencil and faces me, looking at my beaming smile with curiosity.
“I got into NYU.”
Hayden’s eyes widen as his lips spread into a grin. “That’s amazing!Congratulations!”
“I know.” I sheepishly smile. “My parents are taking me to tour the campus next month.”
“Wow, you’re finally leaving the nest, huh, Marquez? Spreading your wings and whatnot.”
I cringe. “You sound like my dad,” I say. “Did you hear back from Penn State?”
I’m waiting for his answer while pulling out my bio class necessities. Notebook, pencil, highlighters, etcetera. When Hayden doesn’t answer, I look at him. His gaze is narrowed on the desktop in front of him, not really focusing on anything aside from avoiding my question.
“Uh, yeah. Like a month ago,” he finally answers. “I got in.”
“And you’re going?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, congratulations,” I still offer. “It’s still a pretty big deal that you got in.”
He turns to face me with a small smile, one that’s close lipped and full of so many silent words that he’s keeping to himself, spread across his face as he nods. I smile back, squeezing his forearm as we silently look into each other’s eyes. The bustling noise of fellow biology class students starts to surround us as the classroom fills, along with our future and its inevitableplans.
present
The following weeks go by like gusts of winds interrupting a calm breeze. My days continue with the constant current of meetings, conference calls, and emails. Enough to keep my mind occupied. Then, without warning, like a squall unanchoring my feet off the ground, I’m reminded of the five-by-seven-inch cardstock sitting in my kitchen drawer, poking at the pieces of my heart that are far from being put back together.
Why can’t I just move on? Matteo obviously has.
When I showed up at Carmen’s house post tragic breakup, my tear-stained face already telling her everything she needed to know about my change in living situation, she told me everything happens for a reason.
At the time, my response was to stuff my face into her couch cushions and drown myself in my own tears. I took what she said with a grain of salt. Not because I didn’t believe it to be true, but because the ache splintering my heart in two was too painful to view my situation with anything other than a glass-half-empty pessimism.
But now, as I figuratively point my fists to the sky as I scream “why” from the top of my lungs, I can’t help but wonder this “why.” Why Matteo felt it was okay for us to stay in a relationship for four years, one that wasn’t necessarily perfect, but I assumed we were both content in. But when the topic of marriage was broached, he broke up with me. Why this rejection not only tore our relationship apart but left me feeling as if I’m not good enough.