Leah on the Offbeat
Page 26

They leave, and suddenly I’m alone in this stranger’s apartment. But I hear Abby’s giggle all the way down the hall.
I call Mom at the office.
“There you are! I was starting to worry. How was the drive?”
“Good.”
“That all you’re giving me? Good?”
“It was amazing,” I say. “It was unicorns vomiting sunbeams.” I push aside two fuzzy white throw pillows and sink onto the couch.
“And Abby’s good?”
“Yup.”
“Run into any hotties yet?”
“Mom.”
“I’m just asking.”
“Okay, first of all, we’ve been here for five minutes. Second of all, don’t say hotties.” I roll my eyes. “And I’m not hooking up with anyone.”
“Okay, but you know the drill. Dental dam! Condom!” Mom’s golden rule. Not super relevant, considering I get no action. And even if I did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be on this trip. Not in Caitlin’s apartment, and definitely not in front of Abby. I can’t imagine bringing a girl home. Abby wouldn’t even know what was happening. I’m 99 percent sure she thinks I’m straight. Even Simon thinks I’m straight.
I feel weird about that sometimes—the fact that Simon’s out to me, but I’m not out to him. It’s like when Leia says I love you, and Han Solo says I know. Like everything’s slightly off-balance. It bugs me. But the thought of telling him now makes me want to throw up. I should have told him a year ago. I don’t think it would have been a big deal then, but now it feels insurmountable. It’s like I missed a beat somewhere, and now the whole song’s off tempo.
And that’s pretty much how I feel when I end the call with Mom. I tuck up against the armrest of Caitlin’s couch, but my limbs feel twitchy and restless. I want to explore the apartment, but something about that feels wrong. Maybe it’s the fact that I would die before leaving someone alone in my space. I get sick just imagining it. All my dirty clothes and half-finished fan art. I don’t get how people walk through life with all their windows wide open.
I hear the doorknob turn—Abby’s back from the parking lot. She flops down beside me. “This place is amazing.”
“I know.”
“And it’s a one bedroom. How does she even afford that?” She kicks off her flats and tucks her feet up onto the couch. “I don’t even think I’d want that.”
“You mean money?”
“No, I mean a one bedroom. I definitely want a roommate. Or a suite-mate.”
“A roommate would be cheaper.”
“Cheaper is good,” she agrees. She sits up straighter, meeting my eyes. “Have you thought about that at all?”
“Roommates?”
She nods, then pauses. “You and I could be roommates.”
“That’s what Simon wants.”
“Yeah, I know. He mentioned that. But it’s not a bad idea, you know?”
She has to be kidding. Not a bad idea? Abby living in my bedroom. I’d lose my mind in a week.
“Or not,” she says quickly. “Just a thought. We don’t even have to decide now.”
I nod wordlessly.
“So, I asked Caitlin about the party.”
“Okay.” I frown.
“Apparently, it’s just a few people hanging out. Like, just a Tuesday-night thing.” She bites her lip. “I don’t think it’s even a real party.”
“Let me guess. You want to go.”
“Only if you’re going.”
“Yeah, I don’t know.”
“Maybe we could just stop by for a second.” She scoots closer, hands clasped. “Just to cheer me up after my breakup?”
I scoff. “You dumped him!”
“But I still feel shitty about it.”
“And a party will fix that?”
“Definitely.”
I pause and then sigh. “See, this is why we can’t be roommates.”
“What? Why?”
“Because you’d make me go to parties. You’d do doe eyes at me until I agreed.”
“Oh.” Abby grins. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”
I look away, smiling. “Whatever. It’s tomorrow, right?”
“Right.”
I roll my eyes. “All right, but I’m not drinking anything.”
“Ahhhhh!” She presses her hands to her cheeks. “I can’t wait. Leah, we’re going to an actual college party!”
“Mmm.”
“No, I’m serious—this is going to be so awesome. Do you realize this is the beginning?”
“The beginning of what?”
She sinks back, smiling dreamily. “Of real life. Of adulthood.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“It’s amazing.”
I roll my eyes—but when she smiles at me, I can’t help but smile back.
18
WE SPEND THE AFTERNOON WANDERING through downtown Athens—past music venues and into vintage clothing shops, where Abby spends her food money on a pair of faux leather ankle boots. Outside, there are flyers all around, advertising deejay nights and college theater and a band called Motel/Hotel, scheduled to play this weekend. And everywhere we look, there are restaurants. Abby announces that she’s starving—and, luckily, she has her parents’ debit card, so we stop at an ATM.
“When I was little, every time my mom took out money, I used to think we’d won the jackpot,” says Abby. “I was like, Mom rules at this game.”
“I just loved how crisp the bills were when they came out,” I say.
“I still love that.”
“I think now I just love it for being money.”
Abby smiles. “That’s sweet, Leah. You love it for who it is.”
We stop at a diner for buttery grilled cheese sandwiches, and then we follow it up with ice cream before returning to Caitlin’s. And for the whole walk back, there’s this happy buzz in my stomach. Like, maybe this is it. This is what college is like.
Back upstairs, we tuck in on opposite ends of the couch with our phones, Abby texting her cousins while I text Simon.
How’s she doing??? he asks.
She seems okay.
Really? Ugh. Well, Nick’s a mess.
Abby nudges me. “Want to see a picture of my cousins?” She scoots closer, tilting her screen toward me. I peer at the image: Abby sandwiched between two white girls, all bright-eyed and beaming, with loosely wavy hair. “Molly’s the brunette, and Cassie’s the blonde,” Abby says. “This was from their moms’ wedding.”
She swipes through a few more pictures, landing on a brightly lit shot of two women grinning at each other under a floral arch. One is honey-blond with kind of a granola vibe, even in a wedding dress. The other woman is wearing pants, and she has Abby’s face. I mean, literally, she’s an older version of Abby. It’s really disorienting.
“I didn’t know you had gay aunts,” I say finally.
“Yeah, my aunt Nadine is a lesbian. I think Aunt Patty is bi.”
I look at the picture again. “Nadine is your dad’s sister?”
“Yup. He has two. She’s the youngest.”
“Is he weird about her being a lesbian?”
“Not at all.”
“I’m kind of surprised.”
“Really?” She smiles slightly.
My cheeks heat up. “I don’t know. You always said your dad was so strict and traditional.”
“No, he is. But he’s cool about that. I mean, I don’t know what he’d say if my brother or I came home and announced we were gay—” She cuts herself off, blushing.
And then neither of us speak. I fiddle with the remote control. Abby stares at it for a moment.
Then her phone starts vibrating, and she snaps back into herself. “It’s Simon,” she says. She meets my eyes while she answers it. Then she slips back to Caitlin’s bedroom, the phone to her ear.
For a minute, I just stare at the ceiling fan. My phone buzzes a few times. Sometimes I think texting is the single worst technological advancement in history. Because yeah, it’s convenient. But in moments like this, it’s like someone’s poking you repeatedly, going hey hey hey.