Crossing my arms across my chest, I glare at her. “I’m only staying here until my parents leave. I’m not joining in any of this debauchery. Why would I risk it?” In a way it feels like high school graduation. I’m not even close to being finished. This is the beginning of my college career. This degree is the foundation for everything that follows. “I’m surprised you’re not celebrating,” I say, lifting my chin toward her bed.
“That comes later tonight,” she says, smiling. “After you go to sleep.” Yes. Exactly like high school. “Unless you want to watch? Join in?”
I stoop down to pull my full suitcase from under my bed and rustle around until I find a long black maxi dress that’s suitable for dinner reservations with my parents. My iPad pings with a message as I’m loading my bathroom caddy and I grin, thinking it’s Marcus returning my last lewd message.
I see Ben’s name instead.Not sure I’ll be able to make it tomorrow. Sorry, Harp.My stomach sinks lower and a bit of nausea hits me in a rush. We haven’t spoken in a while, but never for one moment did I think he wouldn’t make it. Anger replaces disappointment. He can do a million different dangerous things all across the world, but make a ceremony that lasts a few hours, no? I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes water.
That’s fine,I reply back. Ben doesn’t have his read receipts on, so I have no idea if he’s still by his phone or if he’s already busy.Graduating Harvard is NBD anyway. See you in a few weeks?Marcus and I are moving right away.
Nancy is cackling as she watches stupid videos on her laptop. I have no idea how she’s graduating—how she got accepted here. She’s one of those smart people who don’t have to try. The kind who exist in their intelligence without even giving it a second thought. Ben is like that. It’s why he’s so good at whatever he devotes his life to. It’s full-minded focus. I’m not a part of that focus these days. Ben doesn’t text me back, so I take a shower and take my time doing my hair and makeup.
My mom calls when she’s outside waiting for me. I check my phone as I trot down the stairs to the exit of my red bricked building. Ben texted back and all it says, is,I’m so sorry.If I could see him right now I’d know exactly how sorry he was. The rest of the night is a blur of disappointment and agitated nerves. Marcus picks me up outside of the quad after I’ve finished dinner.
He knows right away that something is off-kilter. It’s a quality you hope for in a mate, someone who can read you without effort. “I’m fine,” I say, locking my hand with his. We wave at a group of our friends as they pass by.
Gently, he squeezes my hand. “Dinner was that bad, huh?”
The false smile I plastered on my face for my friends fades.
“Nah. I’m kind of nervous for tomorrow. Nothing abnormal.”
“Nothing to do with Ben not being able to be here for you?”
I stop walking.
I’m glad it’s dark so he won’t be able to see the multitude of emotions that are surely trickling across my face. I look at him and narrow my eyes.
He smiles. “He called me to let me know, too.”
He didn’t call me.“Oh,” I say. “He didn’t tell me why he couldn’t make it.” Do I sound desperate? Old Harper would call and demand answers. I know it wouldn’t be healthy for me to talk to him while I’m in any kind of emotional state, and guarding my heart is of the utmost importance. I can’t mess up what I have with Marcus. “Do you two talk frequently? You never mention him.”
He’s still smiling and I take that as a good sign. “He’s on the right coast. So making commencement is a possibility, but I don’t think he can be certain he’ll be able to get out in time.” He sighs. “He didn’t tell me what he was doing either. I’m not sure that’s something he can tell anyone.” Marcus’ voice holds a tinge of admiration.
Ben would tell me. If I called.
“He said you guys hadn’t spoken in a while,” Marcus edges, squeezing my hand again. “Today was the first time he called me. We don’t talk regularly.”
“Yeah, we’ve both been pretty busy. Me with exams. Him with killing people and saving the world. You know? It’s not why I’m upset. The move and everything. It’s a lot to plan for and think about.” Marcus will buy this lie. I know it. These are legitimate concerns.
He releases my hand and puts his arm around my shoulder instead. “We have this. The hard part is over now. You just have to show up tomorrow. Focus on that. Let me worry about moving. I’m the man. Let that be my job, okay?”
I nod against his chest and I’m wrapped up in his sheets, and arms, and kisses in no time at all.
++++
I’ve never been so nervous in my life. My black gown is oversized and smells like starch. The trees are beautiful in the Harvard Yard. The day is perfect, everyone is happy—smiles as far as the eye can see. I’m fidgeting in my seat as I listen to the commencement speech. My mind wanders, though. It wants to think of everything else instead of what’s happening right now. In a moment I should be proud of, a moment I’ve waited my whole life for, I’m thinking about what could have been, what should have been.
It’s all so anticlimactic in nature. Maybe it’s supposed to be this way. An indication that you’ve finally grown up and realize how insignificant you are in the grand scheme of things. When I was a sophomore in high school I researched Harvard’s commencement procedures and glamorized it in the way most girls dream about their wedding day. “I’m here,” I whisper to myself, trying to force the awareness I crave. The graduate sitting next to me glances over and quickly away. I need to stop talking to myself.
I cover my mumbling by readjusting the dark maroon swath of fabric around my neck just as my cell phone buzzes in my hand. Taking a deep breath, I peek at the phone and see the text from Ben. It’s not words. Just a photo of two horribly drawn stick figures wearing graduation caps. Hot tears prick my eyes at the stupid drawing meant to calm me. It does, though. I feel calmer.
The speech finishes and after another ravishing, uplifting speech from the valedictorian we return to our houses to get our individual diplomas and have lunch with our guests. I’m distracted, wallowing in a place of pride in my accomplishment, but sorrow that this moment didn’t live up to what I dreamed of all these years.
“We’re so proud of you, honey,” Mom says, folding me in a hug. They’re always proud. I never give them a reason to be anything but proud. Maybe even to a detriment. Do they appreciate this straight and narrow life I live less because it’s what they’ve come to expect? Do I?
“Thanks, Mom,” I whisper.
She senses the melancholy like a bloodhound.
