Ann Aguirre: I Want It That Way

“Congrats, dude. Let me wash the kid goo off and then we’ll figure out dinner.”

“I brought home chicken,” Lauren informed me. “Not from TK.”

Blowing her a kiss over my shoulder, I said, “I knew there was a reason I love you better than all other Laurens.”

“Just the Laurens?” she yelled after me. “I need to try harder.”

During dinner, Angus turned off the music so we could actually hear each other talk. At least that was what he claimed, but I shot him a look that said you’re not fooling me; you’re being superconsiderate right now. He only smiled, even when Max gave him metric tons of shit about turning into an old man before his time.

So due to Angus, we didn’t get an angry visit from our neighbor, and when I went out to the balcony with my tea, feeling like this could become a ritual, the patio below was empty. Disappointment swept over me in an embarrassing rush, and I was glad I hadn’t said anything to Lauren about Ty. Nothing’s going on. You’re so weird. To prove it didn’t bother me, I drank all my tea before heading inside. But long after I snuggled in, listening to Lauren wheeznore, which she claimed not to do, I rubbed my chest against an ache that shouldn’t be there.

In the morning, I overslept, and I rushed out the door, straightening my work polo. No time for breakfast, which made me cranky. Maybe if I’m lucky, Louisa will fix me a snack on the sly. A portly woman on the wrong side of sixty, she was the cook at Rainbow Academy, and she was always trying to feed me. Usually, I didn’t let her.

At my car, I stopped, puzzled, staring at the white square of folded paper tucked neatly under my windshield. Probably a flyer. I grabbed it and tossed it on the passenger seat; I didn’t have time to check out what product or service someone was selling. As I drove, the air from the vents shifted the page, so I could read the single line written on it.

Sorry I missed you last night. Ran late.

My heart did that weird twisty-aching thing again, and I swallowed hard. Last night I figured I was alone in wanting to see him out there. To him, I must be the noisy, annoying upstairs neighbor who sounded like ten herds of goats tromping around.

But then he left this. So maybe he likes talking to me.

Such a small thing, but that flicker of excitement carried me through a morning of calming fussy babies and all my afternoon classes. Today marked the end of getting to know you, and the rest of the week, professors should get serious with assignments. Though I wasn’t looking forward to that, I couldn’t wait to meet the students I’d be working with at Calvin Coolidge Junior High, aka C-Cool. That nickname was supposed to make the school seem more badass and street, but since it was mostly attended by white kids, it didn’t help much.

I got in early, just past four, and nobody else was in the apartment. I skimmed the lot for a silver Focus, but I didn’t see Ty’s car. He’d mentioned night classes, but I had no idea how often he took them. The more I learned about him, the hungrier I became to discover more.

But I put him out of my mind to do the required reading for my Oral Language Development class, quickly to be followed by the first chapter in my Literacy Instruction for Students with Mild Impairments textbook. By the time I finished—I was a slow reader—it was dark and still none of the roomies were back yet. I was hungry enough to rummage in the fridge. As I got up, I remembered I hadn’t checked the mail, and my mom had mentioned a care package. Probably too soon, but she always sent Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

Grabbing the key off the hook near the front door, I jogged downstairs to see if we had anything. As I unlocked the box, the foyer door opened, and Ty came in. He had a little boy with him, around four I guessed, with hair minted like a copper penny, and the sweetest smile I’d ever seen. It prompted one from me, which made the kid wave with his free hand. The other clutched a grubby, well-loved brown bear.

Ty, on the other hand, barely acknowledged me. I got a chin lift and then they breezed down the hall, like last night never happened, we weren’t friends of any shade and he never wrote me a note.

The bewildered twinge in my chest went to eleven.

Okay, whatever. I refused to play games.

So I retrieved the mail and went back upstairs to find some dinner. My roomies didn’t come back until close to nine, and Lauren was full of talk about working in the fine arts department. She had the best gossip about one of the professors already. I listened as she gave the inside scoop. Max made mocking noises while Angus seemed more riveted than I was.

“Shut up, I thought he was married,” he breathed.

“He is, ” Lauren said. “But that’s not even the juiciest part.”

Max feigned enthusiasm. “OMG, like, please tell us.”

She cut him a dirty look, then faced Angus and me. “The TA they told me he’s cheating with is a guy!”

“That is juicy,” Angus said. “Before now, I haven’t heard even a slight whisper that he’s playing for my team.”

Abruptly, Max pushed to his feet. “I’m going to my room.”

I shrugged as Lauren asked with a look, Something I said? She and I had been able to stare-talk since junior high. Back then our conversations were a lot simpler, stuff like, God, so cute, look, and I know, right? It was something I’d only recently started trying to do with Angus, though I wasn’t sure how much of my meaningful glances he could interpret. Sometimes I imagined his thoughts went like this: Nadia sure stares at me a lot. She’s a nut.

For an hour or so, Angus and I played video games while Lauren paged through a magazine. Eventually the other two turned in, leaving me to decide if I was going out on the balcony. I put on the kettle, debating the issue with more ambivalence than the issue demanded. Impatient, I steeped the herbal tea, added natural sweetener and stepped outside.

It was a clear, beautiful evening, tons of stars twinkling overhead. The air was cool and fresh, and in two months or so, the weather wouldn’t permit me to sit out here, anyway. I relaxed into my chair, making a mental note to tell Max how much I appreciated it. Closing my eyes, I listened to the rustle of squirrels in trees nearby and the symphony of insects singing to the night.

A bit later, I heard the unmistakable sound of Ty’s patio door scraping open, so I took that as my cue to vacate. Even if he wanted to talk, I wasn’t in the mood, after the cold shoulder earlier. So I slipped inside and took a quiet shower, tiptoeing so I didn’t bother Lauren.

Between work, school and the new practicum, the week went fast, though I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t lost a certain spark. Yet in getting ready, I still took great care; in honor of my first hands-on classroom experience, I wore a tailored navy skirt, white blouse and sensible shoes. Does this look okay? Nervous, I hurried out.

I loved C-Cool from the moment I pulled into the parking lot. The school was tan brick, built in the ’60s. C-Cool was a sprawling, single-level structure that went around in a giant, rectangular loop. There were hallways branching off, but the main one ended up where it began, if you just kept following it and making right turns.

A glance into the classrooms said I might be overdressed. Mental note: nice pants and shirt would be fine for next time.

Eventually, I found my assigned room and teacher. My palms felt sweaty as I stepped in. A blonde woman turned, the dainty sort who made me feel like mooing as I stomped around, breaking china and generally trashing the place. But her bright smile diffused any awkwardness.