Teddy Wayne - Loner

“We were!” I cut in. “That’s what’s been driving me crazy. If only I’d shared more of myself. I feel like I missed out on something really meaningful with you. And I know I’ll regret that for a long time — thinking about what could have been, and the feeling that I threw it away.”

Her eyes rose to meet mine. “I’m new to the whole relationship business,” she said, “but the way I see it, there’s no point in beating yourself up for what you did or didn’t do in the past. Each experience teaches us something about ourselves, and you take what you learn to the next relationship, and you’re the better for it. I know it sounds corny, but I really do believe this.”

“I don’t want another relationship.”

She laughed. “Oh, David. I wouldn’t allow what happened between us to turn you off girls forever. It’s not like this was a thirty-year marriage that just collapsed. We’re in our first semester of college. This is supposed to happen.”

“That’s not what I mean,” I said. “I’m not interested in a new relationship. I want to go back to the last one.”

Sara’s nostrils flared as she took a contemplative breath.

“I don’t know what to say,” she told me after a protracted silence. “I wasn’t expecting this, and it’s a lot to think about. I can’t give you a definitive answer right now, if that’s what you’re looking for. Maybe we can talk more after the break.”

“Of course. Of course.” I took the first, cautious sip of my piping-hot coffee. “Well, how’d your finals go?”

Her face softened in amusement. “Really? That’s your transition?”

“You know better than anyone that small talk has never been my forte,” I said.

She smiled. “Yeah, I forgot. Three classes down, one to go. I won’t bore you with the details. How are yours going?”

“Same here.” I’d skipped my economics exam and still hadn’t written the final papers for my other classes. “Anything else new?”

“Not much,” she said. “Oh — except Layla’s moving in.”

“With you?”

“Yeah, she’s taking Veronica’s place.”

I took a swig of coffee and let it scald the roof of my mouth.

“When did this happen?”

“Veronica just told me she was moving out two days ago,” Sara said. “Layla doesn’t like her roommate, either, so we asked the housing office if she could move in with me, and they approved it.”

“Is she moving into Layla’s room?”

“No. She was weirdly cagey when I asked where she was going. All I know is she hired someone to move her stuff tomorrow morning. Who does that in college ?” She waited for a reaction. “I shouldn’t be so catty. She looked a little embarrassed when she told me.”

“So just one more night with her, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah, and she actually has to spend the night for once, since the movers are coming at seven in the morning. My room’s going to be a war zone for the next twenty-four hours: Layla’s flying home tomorrow and she’s in exams all day today, so she’s got to move tonight.” She checked the time on her phone. “That reminds me, I have to pick up a key for her at the housing office before it closes.”

“A key?”

“For the room.” She waved her hand in front of my face. “Earth to David. You there?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, that’s great news. It’ll be nice to have a roommate who’s a good person.”

“I wouldn’t call Veronica a bad person. I feel sort of sorry for her. She seems a bit tormented.”

“I don’t know about tormented. I got the sense that she’s just not that nice.”

“The gentleman doth protest too much.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “You always got kind of antsy when she was around. I guess I wondered if you had a little crush.”

I made a face.

“A harmless crush,” she qualified. “I mean, what guy wouldn’t, from a distance?”

“So you’re helping Layla move tonight?”

“No — I feel awful about it, but I have my final evening session with my students to go over their college essays. Maybe I’ll be able to pitch in at the end when I get back.”

“Is anyone helping her?”

She shook her head. “And we’re supposed to get six inches of snow tonight.”

“I could lend a hand,” I said.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I’d be glad to. I don’t really have anything else to do.”

Someone called out “David!” Sara and I both turned our heads, but it was just the barista letting a customer know his drink was ready.

“Well, if you’re serious, that’s a very generous offer,” Sara said. “Layla always liked you.”

We got up to leave. Sara waved good-bye to the little girl next to us. She beamed back at her and held out the soggy remains of her cookie as a parting gift.

“That’s so nice of you,” Sara told her. “It looks delicious, but I have to save room for dinner.”

I met up with Layla that evening and, load by load, we transported her belongings from her dorm to Matthews, stacking her boxes in neat rows in Sara’s room and leaving an aisle for your own move in the morning. The whole process took about two hours, throughout which your window remained dark and no sounds issued from your room. As we returned to Layla’s dorm for the final trip, it started to snow. There were two boxes left, and I told her I could handle them on my own.

“Don’t be silly,” I said when she insisted on helping. “You have an early flight tomorrow. Stay here. I’ve got this.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.” I picked up the boxes, creating a small tower that blocked my face. “Oh, whoops — I forgot the key. Duh.”

My hands full, she dropped the room key in the pocket of my parka and held the door for me. “Back soon,” I said.

I hauled the boxes over to Sara’s room. On the way back I detached my room key from my key chain and replaced it with Layla’s. “Here you go,” I said, handing her my own key.

“Thank you so much, David,” she said, marveling at the bareness of her room. “I don’t know how I would’ve done this alone. You really are a nice guy.”

“Not at all,” I said.

Sara would be getting home soon. I dashed back through the Yard to Matthews, nearly slipping on the snow-slick pavement, and let myself into room 505 with Layla’s key. I pressed my ear against your door and heard nothing. The light was still off. I was confident you were out, though it was remotely possible you had come in during Layla’s move and gone to sleep early. Holding my breath, I cracked the door open.

Orange lamplight from the Yard pooled in, glazing a dozen or so boxes haphazardly scattered about the room. Your bed was empty.

The closet was cleared out. I reached into the interior pocket of my parka and removed my phone, your essay, and the bathrobe belt. I took off the parka, along with my jeans and shoes, and put them on the top shelf. Then I stepped inside and shut the door.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, knees resting against the walls, and reread your essay by the light of my phone.

All that time I thought I’d just been watching you, and it turned out you’d been keeping close tabs on me, too. It was almost flattering.

But there were omissions: no mention of the elbow contact during lecture, of crying in my arms on the stairs, of flirting with me outside Sara’s room. Certainly nothing about the picture frame. You were as dishonest in your “study” as you’d been with me all along. Your icebreaker descriptor should have been inveritas .