Paullina Simons - Red Leaves

After the elections, the junior year was spent talking about health care and gays in the military. None of the issues really affected them: Conni and Jim were on their parents’ insurance, Kristina and Albert never went to the doctor. And as far as Kristina knew, no one was planning to join the military, not even Frankie, who had plenty of opinions on gays in the military, on any men in the military for that matter.

They were university students. Everything was fodder for a good fight, including harvesting practices in Iowa, where none of them had ever been. But nothing meant anything. Jim was passionately opinionated. Albert was the devil’s advocate. Kristina was moderate. And Conni had few opinions.

Once, Conni had meant something to Jim. When Jim found out that Conni wanted his roommate, Albert Maplethorpe, that had meant something, too. Jim had somehow worked it out. He seemed to have forgiven Albert, and he and Kristina had started going out. The four of them became very close. So close that in their freshman year, very late at night, having downed many beers, they played truth or dare. They didn’t do anything outrageous, but the conversation took a definite X-rated turn.

That was as far as it went, because Kristina wanted to keep them all friends, and they all managed to remain good friends. It would have been a shame to ruin their intimate, eager college friendship over the Albert and Conni thing, which was supposed to mean nothing.

Except Kristina knew that Constance Tobias didn’t think so. Albert meant everything to Conni. Earlier this year, a classmate had asked Conni, ‘Albert still your boyfriend?’ and Conni had replied, ‘Now and ever.’

After watching the news at eleven, they all got up. Kristina stretched. Conni lifted up her face to Albert, who obliged and kissed her. Kristina lowered her eyes.

‘Well,’ Conni said, grabbing Albert’s hand and thrusting her chest at him, ‘good night now. I have a seven-forty-five tomorrow.’

‘Kristina, will you walk the dog?’ Albert asked, looking straight at her.

She had been lost in thought and it took her a while to answer. ‘Yeah, sure, course I will.’ She tried to smile.

‘You don’t want me to walk him?’ Albert said patiently. ‘I don’t mind. I know you’re afraid to go out at night.’

Jim moved forward. ‘She’ll be fine, thanks.’

Kristina gave Jim a quizzical look. ‘I’ll be fine, thanks,’ she said.

‘They’ll be fine, Albert,’ said Conni, pulling on his arm. ‘Let’s go.’

After Albert and Conni left, Jim said gruffly, ‘Want me to walk him? I’ll have to get my coat.’

Shaking her head, she said, ‘It’s okay, Jimbo. I’ll walk him.’

‘You don’t have your coat either. Where did you leave your coat, anyway?’

‘Don’t know,’ Kristina said quickly, wondering when she could drive up to Fahrenbrae and get it. Tomorrow she had classes, basketball, and then Red Leaves at two. Well, I’ll have a long weekend to go get my coat. I’ll have plenty of time.

She should have let Albert or Jim walk the dog; she really didn’t want to walk him. It was late and she was tired. Aristotle was a fiend for the dark spooky woods behind Hinman and Feldberg. Kristina wasn’t.

‘So, you want me to walk the dog or not?’ Jim asked.

‘No, that’s okay. I’ll do it.’ She paused. She was so tired. ‘You want to stay over?’

‘Stay over?’ Jim repeated.

‘Yes,’ she said, trying to smile.

‘Krissy, I have a seven-forty-five tomorrow.’

‘I know. I do too.’

‘I’m really beat,’ he said. ‘Maybe tomorrow night?’

She looked at him, resigned. ‘Yeah, sure, Jimbo. Maybe tomorrow.’

He must have caught something sad in her tone, because he said, ‘Tomorrow is your birthday? Yes, yes, definitely tomorrow.’

She managed a smile. ‘Good.’ She kissed him. ‘You’re not mad at me anymore, are you, Jimbo?’

His mouth was tense when he said, ‘No, why? Should I be?’

‘No, you shouldn’t be,’ Kristina said without looking at him. ‘Well, good night.’

Kristina walked Aristotle quickly in the cold night. He was pulling the leash to the wooden steps in the woods. ‘No, Aristotle,’ Kristina said firmly, pulling him to the lighted common area in front of Hinman. ‘I’m not taking you there, you dog. You should know that by now.’ Aristotle obeyed reluctantly. After he sniffed around the ground for a bit, Kristina walked him to her bridge. It was poorly lit, but she walked the length of it and let Aristotle pull her a few feet into the darkness of the woods to do his business. Her heart already thumping, she waited for Aristotle to finish while she listened to the woodland’s muffled noises. When Kristina heard something crack nearby, she yanked on the dog’s leash. ‘Come on, Aristotle, let’s go!’ she breathed, and ran back.

After Kristina got back to her room she turned off the overhead light and looked out the window onto the courtyard and Feldberg Library.

It was nearly midnight.

She took off her brand-new black boots and remembered Spencer O’Malley.

A handsome young detective looking at me like I was the best cup of hot chocolate he’d ever had. A nice man with cold hands whose pupils dilated at the sight of me. But what can I do with dilated pupils now? I thought my mission was to right my life. What year was that my New Year’s resolution? Like, every year. I’ve been trying to do that since I was eleven. Every year that was the first of ten items stuck to my bulletin board with a blue tack. Ah well. That’s my mission again for 1994, but this time I really mean it.

Kristina took off her jeans and put on clean black underwear. She took off her sweatshirt and bra and put on the pink tank top she slept in. When she was younger, she had been proud of her sleek toned lines, of her fair color. She looked like her mother. As a teenager, her hair had always been short, and her mother hadn’t allowed her to go to school in anything but dresses. She had once been a proper young lady, but at Dartmouth she played basketball, where speed and stamina counted most. At Dartmouth she didn’t own a single dress.

Kristina went out in the hall to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face.

When she returned, Albert was sitting on her bed in the dark. Locking the door behind her, Kristina came to sit next to him on the bed, relieved to see him. He wiped her still wet cheek with his fingers. In return, Kristina brushed the hair away from his face. His ponytail was unbound, and his hair hung loose past his shoulders.

‘I can’t stay long,’ he said. ‘I could barely get out as it was. Told her I had to get my condoms. She said she had some. I said I wanted the colored ones. Red, white, and blue. With the rocket’s red glare…’

‘You’re so patriotic’ She smiled, moving closer to him. He wiped her other cheek and forehead. She stared him straight in the face, her eyes inches away from his eyes, gently running her fingers through his hair. ‘I understand,’ she said softly. Their arms were touching.

‘I wanted to talk to you about something,’ he said.

‘Anything,’ Kristina said tenderly. ‘What is it?’ She was so happy he had come. Earlier she had thought it had to stop. She knew it had to stop. But when she was with him, alone, she didn’t want to stop anything.

‘Let’s go somewhere,’ he said.

‘When?’

‘Now. For Thanksgiving.’

She sat quietly by his side in the dark; silently she sat and looked out the window.

‘Go where?’ Kristina finally said.

‘To Canada!’ he breathed out. ‘We’ll rent a car and cross the river, to the other side, make a right, and just keep on driving. We’ll find some nice little cottage, somewhere nice. In Quebec. On the way back, we can stop in Montreal. What do you say?’