Even if Shannon came through the student café doors to say she didn’t think she was into a relationship with me, but we could still be friends, I’d be happy. Being with her had filled me with so much happiness that I could sustain myself on that joy for the rest of my twenties. I was a cheerier, more optimistic version of myself. I sang pop songs with gusto. I high-fived every friend I saw, even those I hadn’t spoken to in months.
I was more in love than ever, wasn’t I? Which is why it hurt so damn much when I waited for Shannon for over two hours. I had been half an hour early, but by 8:30 I wanted to cry.
She wasn’t coming, was she?
I held it in. I told myself that there was an explanation, like there had been an explanation for her missing our birthday date. I wish I had her number. Later, I would give anything for her to respond to my email asking where the hell she was. Shannon had completely disappeared from campus. Her roommates wouldn’t tell me what happened. I knew nothing about the department she was in andreallydidn’t want to come off as a stalker by swinging by and asking questions about her.
Except I didn’t know all that yet. Deep down, I think I knew I wouldn’t see her again. Yet that night in the coffee shop, where I sat on an old couch surrounded by the aroma of coffee and baked goods, I saw the last of my hope flash before my eyes. She wasn’t coming. It had been stupid of me to believe she would ever find me again. That she had ever cared. Maybe she had been using me. I didn’t care if she used me… I only wanted her to be honest about it.
I had loved her enough to deserve that.
“Hey, you’re Jess, right?”
A guy from one of my classes sat in the chair next to me. The way he leveled his gaze on me suggested he had smelled a vulnerable, desperate co-ed from a mile away. The worst kind of guy.
I hadn’t cared.
I don’t know why I went back to his room that night. To stick it to Shannon, I guess. I was petty and heartbroken enough that I wanted her to come looking for me, only to discover that I thought her forgettable and inconsequential enough to dump for a guy.
God knew that’s how I would feel eight years later when our paths crossed again.
***
“That’s how I ended up depressed after that fuckface did a number on me.” Jess passed Shannon’s joint back to her. Pot smoke had filled the bedroom. The window was slightly open – enough to let the smoke filter out, but not enough to let in all the cold air. “Spent most of my twenties trying to recover from the abusive mind games he pulled with me. Can you believe it? I was with him for a whole two, three months, and I spentfive yearsgetting over him.”
“Men are toxic.” Shannon enjoyed a hit before rolling her naked body toward Jess’s. They had long disentangled since Shannon had gone to the bathroom no fewer than two times. The first time to use the toilet – the second to dive into her secret stash of “the good stuff” not even her ex-boyfriend had known about. She only brought it out when she had something to celebrate. Jess was only a little smug that Shannon would consider them hooking up again something to celebrate. “Ask me about my string of male exes.”
“Why did we do that to ourselves?”
“I dunno, Jess, you’re the one who knows more about queer theory than I do. If I sayforced heteronormativity,does that mean anything to you?”
Maybe it was the pot, but Jess laughed so hard that her ribs ached and she worried she’d make a mess in Shannon’s warm bed. “Why is that so funny?”
“You tell me,” Shannon said with a grin. She propped herself up on her arm and continued to puff on her joint. “You know what? Those dudes are in the past. No more Andrew. No more… what was his name…Nick.I think that was his name.”
“It was.”
It was also Shannon’s turn to laugh. “You know my history better than I do.”
“Did you actually like being with any of those guys?”
Shannon considered that with a forlorn look. “There were enough good moments to make me think it wasgood enough,if that makes sense. Definitely wasn’t all bad. I also wasn’t ever happy. I think I’m gonna get a therapist. Do you have a therapist?”
“No.”
Shannon laid her joint down. “Maybe we shouldbothget one. Like… couple’s counseling.”
Jess wasn’t falling for that. “We’re not a couple just because we stuck our fingers in each other’s pussies.”
“We’re not? Thought that was part of the code, like flannel and Birkenstocks.”
“Don’t make fun of my style.”
Shannon laughed again. Her whole chest jiggled with every huff of mirth, and Jess decided to commit the image to memory. Who knew when she would see something so lovely again?
“I’m only half serious,” Shannon said. “Maybe I’m not opposed to having a relationship with you.”
“I’m a woman, you know.”
