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Like with ballet.
Like when Mom left us.
Like when Dad decided to move to another city. Every time I found people I cared about, life delivered a perfect roundhouse kick and sent me spinning.
I screw my eyes shut, punch my pillow. This isn’t helping. I don’t care about Seth. Truth is, I don’t know how I feel about him.
Or Fred, for that matter. Not anymore.
All I want is to lie low and let life roll over me for a while, close over my head like the sea, and pretend I know nothing about the mess in my head—and in my heart.
Pretend everything’s crystal clear.
***
My phone ringing wakes me up much later. I recognize the ring tone immediately, even though I can’t have heard it more than once in this past month.
The opening notes of Debussy’s “Clair de Lune”, performed by Luka Sulic of 2Cellos.
It’s the one I’ve set for Fred.
Couldn’t I have picked a sadder piece? Yawning, still half-asleep, I make a grab for my phone.
“Yeah?”
“Madeline. Are you okay? I was calling you earlier, too.”
Figures the one time he decides to finally call me I’d be in such deep sleep I missed it.
“I’m fine.” I twist around so I’m lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling. It’s a light blue, like the morning sky. “Fell asleep while reading in my bed, that’s all. What’s up?”
“Nothing much. In my room, too, finishing up an essay. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Wanted to check up on you.”
“That’s sweet of you.”
I can imagine him so clearly in his dorm room—where I’ve been exactly once and for five minutes—sitting at his small desk with his laptop on, his glasses slipping down his nose, his fair hair sticking up. Maybe he’ll be dressed in old sweats and a T-shirt, like Seth was.
I try the image out in my mind. Try to picture him standing before me, pressing his body to mine, like Seth did. Pressing me up against the wall and kissing me. Reaching into his pants and—
“Maybe we could go for a walk along the lake?” he’s saying. “The weather’s nice. We should take advantage…”
His voice fades into a buzz.
Nothing. The image of him naked or touching himself is doing nothing for me. How’s that possible? Would it have excited me a week ago?
Did I ever think about this before meeting Seth? Did I ever realize what Cassie was talking about when she asked her questions? How it feels to crave a man, to desire him. To get flushed and sweaty just thinking about him.
Then again, I haven’t even kissed Fred yet, not properly. Can’t even tell you how he smells, how his body feels under his clothes.
“Madeline? Are you still there?”
“Yeah.” I sit up, hug my knees with one arm. “I’m here.”
“You sure?” He laughs. “What’s on your mind? It’s as if you’re somewhere far away.”
Yeah, maybe I am.
“I think…” I say, a thousand random thoughts whirling around in my head, “I think I’m going to get a tattoo.”
