Sarah Mlynowski - Monkey Business

“LWBS only interviews when you’re on the waiting list. And he already got accepted. Unless…” Idea! Idea! Idea!

“What?”

“Well, I came for a tour last year. You know, to see the school. Didn’t you?” Doesn’t everyone?

“No,” she says. “I couldn’t afford to fly across the country for no reason.”

No reason? Only her future! “Anyway, maybe he’s planning on coming.”

“That would be perfect. You could be his tour guide. He’ll fall in love. It’ll be perfect.”

“So all I have to do is sign up as a tour guide and find out if he’s coming.”

“Brilliant.”

It’s four o’clock. Maybe I should go now. To check if he’s signed up. No point in me obsessing about it all weekend, if he’s not even coming. “Where are my boots? I’m going to see if this is a possibility.”

She laughs. “This second?”

There they are. I zip them up and wrap my scarf around my neck. I won’t let myself wimp out again. “Be back in a sec.”

I grab my jacket and skip back to the Katz building. Dorothy is still in her office. “Hey,” I say. “How do I go about volunteering to do school tours?”

“You walk around showing people where to go?”

Who knew she had a sense of humor? “Ha-ha. I meant, if I want to volunteer, who do I talk to?”

“Just go sign yourself up. The application room is still unlocked, and the computer should still be on. Just use your task-force password and sign up for the groups you want to lead.”

I feel like I have the key to the golden city. I sign on, then search through upcoming tour groups, looking for Bradley Green. His name is nowhere. How am I supposed to be his tour guide if he hasn’t signed up for a tour?

Foiled!

Sunday, February 8, 12:37 a.m.

“What do you want to do this coming Saturday?” I ask.

We’re lying in my bed. We’ve already had sex and are now watching Daredevil. He’s recently realized that his laptop doubles as a DVD player. I keep dozing off. You’d think Ben Affleck would keep me more awake, but with the laptop balanced on Russ’s knees, whenever he shifts I see a glare on the screen instead of the movie. I noticed that Layla has the entire Sex and the City series on DVD in her room. Maybe Russ’ll watch it with me. I’ve never watched a single episode. I know now that the series is over, people will probably stop talking about it, but I might as well catch up.

Boring. “Russ?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen.

“Saturday night is Valentine’s Day.” As soon as I mention the V-word I feel stupid. Do you celebrate Valentine’s Day with your mistress? Maybe that’s a faux pas.

His ears flush. So cute. Does he have something planned? Maybe he’s surprising me with a romantic dinner. Or with breaking up with Sharon.

“Actually…” he says.

Pause. “Yes?”

“Well…”

Pause again. “Well, what?”

“Sharon is coming this weekend.”

What? Panic grabs hold of my throat and squeezes. “Coming here? To school?”

He squirms, and the laptop slips off his legs, banging me in the knee. “Yeah. She wants to visit.”

Visit? What? “Why can’t you go and visit her?”

He shrugs. “I was just there. She wants to see how I live.”

“You’re going to give her the tour?” I wave my arm around the room like a Price Is Right girl showing a new car. “Show her where you spend your nights?”

Maybe I should suggest she take one of Layla’s tours. Only we’ll modify it slightly and make it far, far away.

He pauses the movie. “You know I can’t tell her about us.”

That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. I throw the duvet off me, sit up and turn my back to him. This is the last straw. It’s one thing to keep dating us both, but to bring her here? How could he? “Why can’t you? Why are you sleeping with me if you’re in love with her? Who do you think you are? Don’t you care at all about me?”

There, I’ve said it. I know I’m not supposed to say it, not supposed to suggest it, not supposed to think it. But too friggin’ bad.

I’m looking at the door instead of him. And he doesn’t respond. And then I realize that he’s never going to break up with Sharon. He’s just sleeping with me. While he’s out of the country. I don’t mean anything to him. I’m just someone to help pass the time.

I hate him. I feel like shit. Why do I need to feel like this? I don’t need this. I don’t need him. Two full minutes later he still hasn’t responded. What, is he napping? I turn around. Tears are streaming down his face. What? He’s…crying?

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes glistening. “I’m so sorry. I know I’m being a jerk. To both of you. It’s just that I honestly have feelings for you both. I never thought I’d be-” He interrupts himself to wipe his eyes on the back of his hand.

I can’t believe he’s crying. I hand him a tissue.

“I know this is no excuse. But growing up, I never thought in a million years that a girl as beautiful and smart as you would ever look twice at me. I was scrawny and geeky. You know, the boy who was always picked last for gym class.”

He laughs and then wipes his eyes again. I squeeze his leg.

“I spent my entire childhood buried in comic books. Hung out in the world of superheroes and villains instead of real people. And then in my last year in college I met Sharon.”

I hold my breath. He’s never talked about Sharon directly to me. “And what happened?”

“We had a class together. Pop lit. It was a mandatory for her Education degree. I took it because I heard that the prof put comics on the reading list. She sat next to me on the first day.” He shrugs. “She asked me out.”

I try to imagine him, shy, skinny, not knowing what to do with his hands. I can’t.

“I don’t know what she saw in me. She thought I was funny. I went to the gym with her, started boarding-”

Boarding? I would have pegged him as the downhill type, but what do I know?

“I stopped picking at my face. And then for the first time, I came out of my shell. I didn’t run home between classes to hide my nose in a comic book. I talked to people. Started playing ball. Socialized. I’d wanted to go to business school in the States, but only after starting to date Sharon did I think I had a chance of getting in. And then I came here and met you. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I still can’t, but I can’t just throw away everything I’ve experienced with Sharon, either. I owe her.”

I don’t know what to tell him. I know I can’t tell him what to do or who to choose. Instead of feeling angry, I feel relieved that he’s opening up to me. I lie back down and pull him close.

“I want to be with you,” he says, his breath soft on my cheek.

“But you also want to be with her.”

He stares into my eyes and nods. “I don’t want to give either of you up.”

I half smile. “Isn’t that a little selfish?”

“Yes.” His fingers draw loops on my bare arms. “Do you want me to leave?”

Never. “No.” I kiss him tenderly on the lips. “But is she really coming for the entire weekend?”

He kisses me back. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I can’t tell her not to come now.”

Yes, you can, I think but don’t say. “Okay. No biggie.” I tickle his tummy. “You gonna tuck her in and then sneak in here?”

“Yeah, right.” He lays his head against the pillow. “Did you set the alarm?”

Sigh. “Yes, Russ, I set the alarm.”

I am so bored. I can’t believe I’m taking a tour of the school when I could be sleeping. It’s nine o’clock Sunday morning as I trail behind the eight potential students, through the Katz building.