Page 53 of When the Night is Over

“You should. I got so much out of studying in London this summer.”

“I know, you told me…That’s great.”

I want to tell Brett to save his breath, that Samantha wants no part of him. She’s not showing any interest in the senior who has Professor Westfield’s ear at the moment either, and unlike Brett, he is a genuinely good guy. No, Samantha is still dogged in her pursuit of me.

When we first met, I swear she got a gleam in her eye whenever she’d catch me leaving for my warehouse job wearing battered carpenter’s pants and my old, worn thermal shirts. She liked the uniform of hardship that I wore, liked that I was rugged in comparison to the boys she grew up with—the ones who played squash and got their first Brooks Brothers suit at age fourteen. Both of my hands clench into fists when I think back to that one night when she casually asked if I had any tattoos.Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, got no tattoos or dick piercings to entertain you. Instead of saying what was on my mind, I just stared her down for a moment and shook my head. “Sorry to disappoint.”

She looked truly embarrassed and has since gone out of her way to make certain that she does absolutely nothing that might offend me. She doesn’t challenge my opinions, she adopts my point of view in political discussions, and she praises me, both to my face and to others.

I can’t take it.

I decided that hooking up with some other girl is the only way I’ll be able to get rid of her. So next to me sits Diana, a pre-med student from Akron, Ohio. She’ll be leaving after finals are over next week for winter break. She asked me to come, knowing I have no home to return to, but of course I declined. She’s a nice person, but I’m not even remotely smitten. Diana puts an insane amount of pressure on herself, which leads to a schedule packed with study sessions and research. As a result, she makes very few demands on me. It’s perfect. We got together about six weeks ago at a party. Samantha was there. I don’t know if it was the shots or Samantha’s excessive fawning that led me to dance with Diana and then make out with her in full view of everyone in the room.

Samantha studies Diana at the table, and I can tell from her expression that she sees herself as superior to her competition in every way. Satisfied, she looks back to her own date and makes a show of interlacing her fingers with his and resting them on the table. I’m not even the slightest bit jealous.

As I’m helping my date with her coat, Samantha calls and then waves me over. “I’m so disappointed we won’t be here for Christmas.”

“Why? Kicking back on a beach sounds like a great way to spend break.”

“I know, but I had fun last year. I’ll miss the two of us hanging out.” When I don’t respond she plasters on a winning smile. “Here…It’s nothing. I just thought of you when I saw the post online.”

I shake my head. “Samantha, I didn’t—”

“Stop…I wasn’t expecting a gift, and like I said, it’s nothing.”

But it’s not, and suddenly I feel like a total shit. I feel the same way I did when I made a show of macking on some girl in the high school gym back when I wanted to shake Charlotte off.

It’s a small green envelope with my name written across the front in gold. The envelope holds two tickets to an Avett Brothers show. I knew they were coming to Chicago this February but never once entertained the idea of seeing them. Concerts, along with most other luxuries, are not in my budget.

I can’t look at her. “Samantha—”

“I know you like them. You listen to them all the time. I just wanted to do something for you.” When I go to speak, she cuts me off. “You can take Diana.”

That all but guts me. “I appreciate the thought you put into this. Do you like them?”

Her tone is cautious. “I’m a fan. My favorite of theirs isI and Love and You.”

It’s every non-fan’s favorite song, but whatever. “Then come with me. I wouldn’t feel right taking anyone else.”

She looks over at the front door where Diana is talking to Professor Westfield. “Will your girl be down with that?” She’s teasing me, knows I’m not hopelessly devoted.

Her mother, a woman who has welcomed me into their home and fed me more times than I can count, shoots a hopeful smile my way as I slip the tickets into my coat pocket. “It will be fine.”

When I get back to my place, I cue upI Wish I Wasinstead of Samantha’s pick. That song is everything—it’s my absence, my longing for Charlotte, and my desire to make sure she knows how sorry I am. Sometimes I play it on repeat, and when I do, I get lost in a familiar fantasy. It’s the one where me and Charlotte are together in our simple home, making a life. It’s not always easy, but every struggle is worth it because she’s everything to me.

* * *

Charlotte

“What do you say, little man? Think momma’s gonna do well on her big test today?”

“Are you serious? You’re going to ace this thing. Your score was nearly perfect on the other one.”

“That was the GED, Janelle, this is the college entrance exam…Apples and oranges.” I was starting to speak her fruit, vegetable and animal-based language. “And I’ve only been studying for one month. Most kids prep for the better part of a year.”

This whole plan is ridiculous and rushed and crazy.

The first person to greet me when we arrived at the hospital last month was my pitbull of a social worker, Mrs. Ryan. I’m reduced to a naughty kid sitting in detention when she approaches with purposeful strides and a smile that could only be described as borderline menacing.

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