Lydia
“Lyd, are you ready for midterms next week?”
I groan, still trying to get down this disgusting drink Lani made me this morning in an attempt to cure my current hangover.
“Simone…I love you…but I can’t think about school right now.”
“Are you at least coming to the study group tonight?”
“Study group? No…Tonight is that homecoming party off campus.”
“You’re going to a party tonight?”
I don’t like the tone in her voice, a little accusation mixed with concern, like I’m doing something wrong. I down the last of the green smoothie without gagging too badly, and try to sit up on the tiny couch in our dorm.
I put the glass down and look over at her. “I thoughtweallwere going to the party.”
Her face drops, and I don’t know whether to feel sad at the way she’s looking at me or irritated.
“What?” I ask a little more harshly than I intended.
“Nothing, Lyd.”
But it’s obviously something.
“Simone…when have we ever censored how we felt around each other?”
She takes a moment, weighing what she wants to say and how she wants to say it. “It’s just…I mean, I don’t really know what a bender looks like or anything, but the way you’ve been nonstop partying and drinking…feels like what I would imagine one to look like.”
I roll my eyes now, because that’s ridiculous…right?
“We’re in college, Simone…we’resupposedto be partying a lot.”
“Lyd…you’ve been out every night this week.”
“Again…it’s homecoming.Everyoneis partying this week.”
“I’ve only been to one party this whole week,” she says, like she’s better than me or something, just for not partying as much.
“I’ve been having a good time, Simone. I’m finally happy and having real fun. Why is that a problem?”
“It’s not,” she tells me, trying to soften her tone. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like it was…I just haven’t seen you like this before. I want to make sure everything is okay.”
Sue me for having a little fun, finding ways to keep the pain away. I mean, I haven’t had a single nightmare in weeks now, albeit maybe because I’ve been too drunk or high off an orgasm to remember having any, but that’s beside the point. I feel good. Why is that a crime?
“Yes, everything is okay, Simone. I’m good. Better than good.”
“I just miss you, too, though. I feel like if I don’t constantly go out with you, I never get to see you.”
“You’re the one too busy with Delta Gamma most days.”
“Don’t do that, Lyd. I always make time for you when I can.”
“I’m not saying that you don’t. I’m just saying that you have somethingyouenjoy doing, and now I found something thatIenjoy doing. What’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem ifyou’re actually okay, Lyd…but I just figured…I might need to check on you. You know…with what’s coming up—”
I don’t need her to say it. I don’t need her to remind me of what I’m already painfully aware of.
