Page 95 of Adrift

He trails off, but I know what he’s not saying. We don’t have months; I’m leaving in less than four weeks.

So, what do we have?

I nuzzle into his neck, not knowing what else to say as I listen to his breathing get steadier. But as he finds sleep again, I stay awake, battling my thoughts.

I looked into transferring to a small college here in Tahoe. I’d have to take two more credits but overall, it wouldn’t delay my graduation. And I suppose this is where my lack of experience with relationships and my age works as a disadvantage. I don’t know how to say what I want, what I expect. Wouldn’t it put him in a predicament to have to figure out what we mean long-term if I ask him to tell me now?

What if he hasn’t thought about the long-term this whole time? And if he had, wouldn’t he have brought it up by now?

He told me he wanted to be ‘all-in’ but what does that really mean? Did that mean all-in for the summer or all-in forever?

Am I too naive to expect forever?

Am I too naive to expect anything more than this?

* * *

“I look better from this angle.” Fred turns to his left slowly, holding on to his walker and lifting his chest. He puts his hand inside his suit pocket. “Take my picture from this angle.”

I fight a giggle, watching Lynn give her husband the biggest scowl from my viewfinder. “Well, now I look like I’m just an accessory, standing all the way over here.”

Fred shakes his head, scooting up closer to her. “Well, alright, we can do it your way . . . even though I’m technically the star of Rani’s article.” When he gets a raised brow from her, he explains further, “Sweetheart, you read the same thing I did. The article talks about how sweet I was and what a risk-taker I was to go after my high school teacher, and then how hard I worked to finally sweep you off your feet.”

Lynn turns Fred in another angle with her hands wrapped around his biceps, coming up in front of him to pose with a smile. “Goodness me. It’s extraordinary how you don’t just float away with that big ol’ head of yours, Fred.”

Fred frowns at me where I crouch with the camera in front of them. “Do you hear the sort of hurtful comments I have to live with, Rani? I wake up every day telling myself that my head is perfectly in proportion to the rest of my body.”

My arms shake because I’m laughing so much. I have never met a cuter couple than this one. Even their bickering is cloaked in such deep and profound love and respect, I can’t imagine the standard they’ve set for their children and the type of partner they should be with.

Once they’ve situated themselves, they both look over at the camera and smile. I take a few pictures like that, but it’s one of the few I take of them smiling at each other–where Lynn looks up at him towering almost a foot over her, even when he’s hunched a bit on his walker–that I know will be the one I post on the blog. I make a note to get it printed and framed for them after I do a little bit of post-editing to it.

We’re sitting in Fred and Lynn’s apartment, playing Uno and drinking some sweetened iced tea Lynn had made. Fred examines the cards in his hand as if the next one he puts down will change the course of history when Lynn turns to me. “So, how much longer are you here in Tahoe with us, dear?”

I groan internally, wishing to have avoided thinking about this question a little longer. It’s not that I haven’t thought about it–it’s been swimming in the back of my mind. No, I’ll rephrase. It’s infested the back of my mind like a virus multiplying. “Three weeks.”

Lynn raises her brows. “We’re going to miss you, Rani. I hope you come to visit every now and then.”

“You know I will.”

A silence settles between us as we drop our cards with questions hanging in the air. As if Fred can’t stand it anymore, he clears his throat. “So, have you and Darian spoken about the future? It seems you’ve had a very adventurous summer, but with three weeks left, have you talked about how you’ll manage a semi long-distance relationship?”

I put down a yellow reverse card, not necessarily even thinking about what I’m doing. “Not really. I guess I don’t want to put him on the spot, you know? I’m pretty sure I could transfer to a college nearby–I’d have to get that process started really soon to be able to be admitted in time for fall semester–but I don’t know if that’s something he’d want. Committing to live with someone for a summer is so different than living with them indefinitely. What if I put too much pressure on him?”

“You have your own pressures too, dear. You have a life to live and a career you want to build. One day you might even want to start a family of your own. If that’s not with Darian, then you should know that up front.” She puts down a card on the stack. “I understand that youngsters these days have what are called short, meaningless flings, but has what you have with Darian ever felt meaningless to you?”

I look at the cards in my hand but can barely tell one color from the other. “No. Never.”

“Then just talk to him,” Fred chimes in. “Ask him how he thinks you both will continue once you leave.”

I nod but don’t respond, lost in my thoughts through the rest of the game. Asking Darian about our future should seem easy enough, but a part of me is worried that maybe we’re on different wavelengths, along with different phases in our lives. While I know neither of us thought of this as a summer fling–given we didn’t even plan to start a relationship in the first place–I can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t brought up anything about what we’ll do after the summer is over.

My doubts and uncertainty are getting the best of me. I can almost taste the acid curdling in my stomach at the thought of saying bye to both Arman and Darian with no sense of a future with either of them–besides going back to seeing Arman on a monthly basis when Karine brings him for visits.

Isn’t this what I was always afraid of from the beginning, though? Getting attached. And with nothing to show for it at the end of summer, won’t I be the cause of my own suffering?

I suppose it’s been the story of my life when it comes to men. I’m the temporary reprieve–an interim shelter until they find a better-suited home, like Patrick did with Ruby Mallory.

I’m the one allowed to go adrift, knowing something better will wash up on shore.

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