On paper, she and I worked. Oh my god, thehoursof my life I wasted writing about that happy ending, bullshit poems and stories and letters, some love-struck sap. And I didn’t realize until the very moment of telling IrisI love youthat I only loved the idea of a happy ending, not her.
But the look on her face—she knew. And she gently said, “Kris…” in that delicate, trying-to-talk-down-a-crazy-person tone, andthatwas what clinched it for me.
Had I been that disgusting the whole time? Had I been using her for my own ends all along? We werefriendsonce, right?
We have a whole separate text thread for the two of us, where she sends me the absurd, overly pompous words her professors use that she doesn’t even believe are real; and I send her photos of objects that are particularly odd looking or interesting people around campus that she can use as studies for sketching or sculpting or whatever her art outlet of the day is.
That was real, wasn’t it? That friendship?
I swipe over to that private thread. The last text was weeks ago, the morning classes started for this term:
IRIS
IRIS
this poli-sci professor just used the word myrmecophilous
did i spell that right
even spell check is like wtf
She initiated it. She reached out. I was the one who chose not to respond.
I can’t deal with this right now.
Ever the psychic, my brother sends me a private text.
COAL
COAL
you not responding to the group chat is like if you were lurking in the same room and creepily watching us have fun without you
Then switch to a private thread.
COAL
coward
Fuck off
COAL
asshole
Pissant
There’s a long enough pause that I push off the wall and continue up to the third floor of the library. My shirt is stuck to my stomach now, the drying mocha making the fabric stiff and tacky. And I now connect that this means I haven’t had coffee all morning, and it’s, what, almost ten? I booked the study room for two hours, no time to make another coffee run before my reservation, so this session will have to be done sans caffeine andthis is still no reason to get fucking pissy.
Deep breaths. I’m making an effort today. Shirking this fog.
My phone buzzes.
COAL
oh that’s a new one. i had to google it.
You’re going to graduate from Yale in three months and you don’t know what ‘pissant’ means?
