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“After I tell you this, you have to be strong enough to talk with him today. You know he’s going to want to talk. There’s no falling apart like you did last night.”
“I get it. I won’t fall apart.”
She drew in a deep breath. “You told him that you felt as if he was dragging you around like a child. You told him you were afraid to leave high school behind, but that going to the party and seeing everyone so confident helped you to see that you needed to come alone. To do this all alone.”
“I said that?”
“I’m paraphrasing. Clint accused you of being paranoid because of the booze and drug mixture, and I’m pretty sure he was right. That made you angrier, though. Clint said you needed to go back to the hotel to get a food and some shower, and you told him ‘maybe what I need is another boyfriend.’”
A chill ran through my veins. “Please tell me that was paraphrasing, too.”
“Actually, no. ‘Maybe what I need is another boyfriend’ was a direct quote from you last night.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No. I’m really not. After that, I’m pretty sure you called him an asshole before storming off.”
“I called him the asshole.”
“At least you’re sober enough to see the irony.”
I sat there, stunned. “Why the hell did I say that?” I shook my head at myself as tears rushed my eyes. “My God, he’s never going to forgive me.”
Allison sipped her orange juice. “Sure he will.”
“He really won’t. If he’s got any sense about him, he won’t.”
“But he loves you. So he will.”
I stared blankly at her. “Fine. Say he does. But he won’t ever forget I said those words. And I can’t take them back.”
She licked her lips as we sat in silence. I watched Allison nibble on her food. Sip her orange juice. Generally look at every part of the room except for me.
“Allison?”
Her eyes came back to mine. “Yeah?”
My voice lowered to a whisper. “I think I’m making a mistake.”
“With Clint?”
I shook my head. “With school.”
My gaze fell to the floor as Allison got off the bed. She came over and sat beside me, her hand rubbing softly against my back. I let the tears fall. There was no use in expending the energy to hold them back. But saying it out loud? Admitting it to someone?
It felt good.
“How do you figure?” she asked.
I shook my head. “None of this is me. Last night wasn’t me. This campus isn’t me. The closer we get to the school year starting, the worse I feel. I don’t know if I picked Cal State because I really wanted to come here, or if I wanted to get away from my mother.”
“It did shock me when you told me you didn’t want to pursue graphic design.”
“Right? But, when I was talking to Mom about the community college not too far up the road from the house, she started talking about getting a part-time job to help with things and I could go to school part-time and stay at the grocery store. She talked about our girls’ nights and me staying at home and commuting and how we could pool our money together and get a reliable car and it fucking freaked me out, Allison. Like, big time.”
“And rightfully so.”
“I don't think I chose to come here because it’s what I want. I think I chose to apply and come here because I wanted to get away from Mom. And now that I’m here?”
