Page 78 of Backslide
She can already hear her parents questioning why she’s changed her mind. Why no California? Why not this program—it’s all that she has talked about for years?
And weeks later, as Nellie slumps on a couch watching Noah stumble drunkenly through a friend’s house party—in a way that is so unlikethe Noah she first knew but she fears is exactly like this new post-baseball incarnation—she is not at all sure she has made the right call.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s why she still hasn’t informed the LA school that she will not be accepting admission. Maybe that’s why she has not informed the East Coast university that shewillbe joining their first-year class.
She’s not ready to remove the safety net. She is unsure of their staying power.
She feels someone plop heavily down beside her, unsettling the cushions, and she turns toward the disruption.
“Whattup, Nellie?” Damien says.
“Not much,” she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest in a self-hug.
He follows her gaze to Noah, who is placing some sort of pill on his tongue. Some girl Nellie doesn’t know is giggling and holding his chin shut like he’s a dog taking roundworm medication. The girl’s hands are on Noah’s body and he’s laughing.
“My man’s a wreck.” Damien gazes unblinking from below blond lashes.
And, though it’s disconcerting that he has so aptly read what is in Nellie’s mind, though she doesn’t want to betray Noah, it’s hard for her to deny the obvious.
“It’s not great,” she admits.
“He says you’re staying in New York for him,” Damien says, rotating his baseball cap sideways on his head and looking down at her. “That true?”
She nods. Bites her lip.
He leans on his thighs, facing forward, then turns to examine her again. “If anyone asks, I never said this, but let’s just say he’s not considering you on the same level. You deserve to hear that.”
She knows she shouldn’t take the bait, but how can she not? She can see the shift in Noah like night and day. He has started returningher calls again since they agreed to forgo their California plans, but still sometimes it feels like he’s avoiding her—and she has heard rustlings about him and other girls.
What she is watching now from across the room doesn’t help. And that’s happening in her presence. What goes on when she’s not around?
“What does that mean, Damien?” she asks, working to keep her voice even, empty of desperation.
He laughs lightly. “You’re the only one who calls me Damien,” he says. “You know that?”
She really doesn’t care. Not right now.
“What are you trying to tell me?” This time, her voice catches in her throat.
She is appealing to Damien’s best self, which she knows even then barely exists. But she has already been sensing what he is implying and some part of her needs confirmation.
“Look,” he says, leaning in. “That’s my boy. I’d do anything for that kid. And he’s hurting right now. But you’re too good for him. You could do better.”
Is Damien dropping wisdom or fucking with her?
Unbeknownst to her, her boyfriend has wondered the same thing when Damien has suggested that Noah should let Nellie go, too—what’s the fun of college with the same old girlfriend?And if Nellie stays for him, isn’t that just pressure? Damien keeps asking. Won’t he feel trapped?
“D! Ineedyou!” Some drunken girl calls from across the room, bangled arm outstretched. Damien jumps to standing. “Catch you later,” he says to Nellie.
Alone on the couch again, Nellie tries to catch her breath, but she can’t. She wishes her girls were here. But they’re not. Cara and Ben are off planning their future at Stanford together. Sabrina is hanging with Chloe and her new art world friends, dating girls openly for the first time.
Nellie wouldn’t want to bother them anyway.
But she has been dragged to this party to be ignored. Which only compounds what Damien is suggesting.
She watches Noah, who is leaning on his crutches, laughing too loud at that same girl’s joke. He never used to drink, really. He never used to be like the other neighborhood boys.
He doesn’t feel her eyes on him this time or, if he does, he doesn’t turn to look. She has become an appendage.
