Page 54 of The History in Us

Katie

Levi wasn’t there yet. He hadn’t fully arrived in the present. His past haunted him. His future with AJ uncertain, but I wanted to assure him I would keep waiting. I knew about ghosts. I knew about uncertainty. I also knew it took one spark to set the fire free, release the flames and ignite a new will. Levi had to get there, with or without me, before he could accept me. The drinking proved it.

“I have help,” he assured. “People to call if I need to talk. Anxiety pills to take instead of the drinking. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His tender fingers brushed over my face as he spoke, begging me to accept that he wasn’t breaking before me. Only cracks remained, but he was rebuilding. I just didn’t know exactly where I fit in the process.

Slowly we fell into a pattern of working on our history project, which we finally agreed would be history in images. This seemed like a big decision as photography was even more important to him than I knew. He told me about his meeting with Jet Markenson, and Anne’s connection to this man. We’d discussed further his application for Geographic Digest. He wanted an interview, and although he tried to appear nonchalant, I sensed he really, really wanted the position. I didn’t voice my concerns that if he got to travel the world snapping photos, I didn’t see how he could drag a baby with him, but it wasn’t my place to question. In the meantime, he’d submitted a story to the Perseverance Project that Anne recommended for me.

“Why are you upset? It’s just a stupid story. Not even. It’s more like an article, which is why she wants me to get a job at the Tribune—a job I don’t even want.”

“You applied at the Tribune?” I asked, still stinging from him calling a story stupid.

Levi sighed. “The man I met, Jet Markenson, he’s a photographer. I want a gig in photography, but Anne thinks I’d have a shot at writing as well. Why? Do you want to work for the Tribune? I could introduce you.” His tone hinted at mockery.

“No,” I sighed, frustrated at his good fortune to have Anne pushing him in the direction of a career in writing. “But I’d love a job that involves writing, and I’d give anything to have my stupid story win.” I air-quoted stupid while my voice hissed.

“Look, I didn’t mean that,” he countered. “If I win, I’ll just give the contract to you.”

“Are you teasing me? It doesn’t work like that and you know it,” I said, sitting back on his couch, staring at the television, but not really watching the action on the screen.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up,” he snapped, running his hand over his head in his telltale sign of frustration.

“I just wish you appreciated all Anne seems to be doing for you. She isn’t breaking her neck for everyone,” I huffed.

“What does that mean? Are you suggesting she feels sorry for me?” He shifted on the couch and twisted to face me. His action so swift the papers on his coffee table rustled with the motion.

“I just mean that Anne seems to be giving you her undivided attention, guiding you in a direction that you don’t seem to appreciate.” I’d said too much and instantly I was sorry.

“You think Anne’s playing favorites?”

I couldn’t respond. I didn’t know how to describe my thoughts. Maybe I was jealous. I didn’t see Anne having the same faith in me, and it reminded me of my numerous failures. I came to Chicago to answer one question and had lived here long enough to have a bucket full of new ones. I didn’t know what I would do next if I didn’t work in writing. I’d applied to over fifty companies in a variety of ways and hadn’t gotten one interview. Emily wanted to give me the name of an old editor for the travel magazine she worked for some fifteen years ago, but I didn’t want to bother a man who was no longer in the industry, not to mention working on a travel magazine didn’t sound interesting to me. I only foresaw continuing to work at Vintage Vines until I found the right opportunity.

Levi remained silent next to me, and I suddenly sensed he wanted me to leave. Or rather, I wanted to go. I needed some space to breathe. We were at his place again. We hardly used the library, and it didn’t seem conducive to use my place with AJ, but I missed my roommates sometimes and I felt resentful tonight about being at his place. Leaning forward, I began to gather my things.

“What are you doing?” His voice rose, the octave harsh, panic mixed with command. I continued to fill my bag as I answered, “I think I should go home.”

“Why?” He sat forward, not reaching out for me, but clasping his hands together, balancing his arms on his knees. Another habit we’d fallen into was me spending too many nights here, experiencing each other in his bed, but never completing the deed. Part of me was grateful, as my heart was into him more than he was into me, but the other part hated that we hadn’t taken things farther. I felt like he didn’t fully want me. I was only filling a hole for him. Chalking my mood up to general crabbiness, I stood with my bag.

“I think I just need to go home tonight. We aren’t getting anywhere with the research at the moment and I…” I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t foresee us going anywhere. Playing house was messing with my heart. I never played house before, not even as a child in Emily’s playhouse. It was all fantasy—knights, princesses, and dragons. I was living the biggest fantasy of all—a lie. Make-believe was a dangerous game, and that’s exactly what we were doing, making me believe this was more than it was to him.

“And you what?” he snapped, standing to face me.

“I just need to go.”

“Fine,” he groaned, and I flinched as I knew he hated that word. He didn’t try to stop me and I circled the coffee table. A foreboding feeling filled me and his words halted me at his front door.

“What about the scholarship dinner?” he asked. Did he wish to renege on our date? He’d asked me to go as his plus one, but it was already mandatory I attend. I wasn’t an honored guest but a scholarship recipient that the university felt represented their donor’s financial investment. Levi had asked me to attend with him, nonetheless. In my anger, I responded.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  I couldn’t face him or I’d cave.

“Why?” I heard the panicking plea in his tone. I wasn’t leaving him, I wanted to shout. Don’t act like I’m abandoning you, I wanted to scream. I’d been here almost every day but I didn’t understand what we were doing. And most of all, I realized that Levi didn’t seem to believe in me. Disheartened, I sighed.

“Levi, where are we going?” I turned to face him.

“I want to take you to the fundraiser ball.” He sighed, scratching at the scruff on his neck, another nervous habit, one he used when he was processing a thought when he didn’t understand. I hated that I recognized all his habits, and he didn’t seem to know that I cared so much about writing.

“That’s not what I meant, Levi. I mean us. Is there an us? Can I even say that? What are we doing? Playing house? Make-believe?”