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He didn’t even go out to the habitual weekend keg party. He drank in his room, commiserating with himself about his unfortunate state of affairs, smoked a joint with Farhad, drank some more, and passed out at who knows what time.
Jesse didn’t get out of bed until almost two-thirty the next day. The others must have figured he needed the sleep and not waken him when they went to eat. He felt lousy, but he thought some food might settle his stomach so he threw on some clothes and went to the cafeteria. He tried to remember the previous night, but he had little recollection of what happened. The beers had gone down fast and hit hard. There probably wasn’t anything worth remembering anyway. But he did remember why he drank so hard: his disappointment over the black-haired girl. He remembered reading some quote about getting more accustomed to disappointment as you got older, about the more experience with life you got, the less you hope and dream, the more you learn to settle. He wondered if he was already reaching that point.
There weren’t many people in the cafeteria, lunch already having finished, but there were a few slices of greasy pizza with congealed cheese in the pizza warmer. He bought two slices and a soda and took a seat near a window. He tried to read a newspaper but it made his head spin so he just looked out the window at the people walking by. He managed to eat half a slice, and his head was still feeling clouded and groggy when he heard a voice behind him say “Hi.” He was starting to crave his bed again and didn’t think he could endure a conversation. He reluctantly turned to see who it was, and to his surprise, standing before him was the black-haired girl.
He tried to sit up straight and get his bearings. “Oh, hi,” he said.
She clutched her books with both arms across her chest. “Are you sitting with anyone? Do you mind if I sit with you?”
His hangover dulled his reaction. “Ah, no, no. Have a seat.”
She put her books on the table and coat on the back of the chair and said, as she sat down, “Sorry I had to leave so abruptly yesterday—after chem.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I figured you had your class, right?”
“Actually, I skipped my last class. I had to go home to watch my little sisters.”
“You’re from the city?”
“Yeah. I live in the South End. My mother just started a job and yesterday was her second day and she was freakin’ out that she was gonna be late.”
“That’s understandable. How old’re your sisters?”
“Eight and six. I felt like a heel though.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t think anything of it.”
“Okay, good.”
There was a pause. Not good, Jesse thought. Think of something to say. “That’s quite an age difference between you and your sisters. Were you the, ah, mistake?” As soon as he said it he felt his stomach twist into knots. A mistake? That couldn’t have sounded too good. Besides, you don’t want to pry too deep into someone’s personal life without knowing them that well. But she didn’t bat an eyelash.
“That’s what you’d think, but no, we have different fathers. It’s kinda crazy, my family.”
Jesse had to muster all his energy just to fight through the fog of his hangover and converse coherently. He hadn’t fully grasped that his dream girl was sitting with him—of her own choice, no less—and talking to him. But her presence seemed to naturally lift the haze off him as his insides swelled with satisfaction.
When he fully considered his situation, when he realized his dream girl was sitting with him and he was under pressure to perform, to impress her somehow, anxiety began to well up inside him. But she had a relaxed demeanor and made him feel at ease.
“What’s your name,” she said. “I don’t think I got your name.”
“Jesse.”
“I’m Corey.” She stuck out her hand and Jesse took hold of it and shook it. “Nice to meet you, again.” She spoke with a good-natured light-heartedness.
“You too,” Jesse said.
“I was studying at the library. It’s kinda nice on a Saturday morning—there’s almost no one there.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever been there on a Saturday morning.”
She smiled. There it was again, that warm, reassuring smile. A chill ran down his back.
“But I haven’t eaten all day,” she said. “I’m starving. I don’t suppose there’s much left here.”
I think they close the hot food down around two-thirty to get ready for dinner. There’s some prepared stuff though, sandwiches and salads, and I think they still have some…” he paused and looked down at his plate “…pizza.”
“Is that what that is? I wasn’t sure.”
He tried to laugh, but the reverberations felt like a minor earthquake inside his head. He cringed and put his hand on his forehead.
