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Wyatt
1996
I couldn’t stop sweating. I’d taken two showers that day and still, my nerves were shot at the prospect of seeing Tilly again.
It was one thing to tell Marissa about my unrelenting feelings for Tilly, but it was another to see her face-to-face after the cool and detached reception from the night before.
It was Sunday afternoon, and even though I knew it was unlikely that Tilly was working two days in a row at the video store, I couldn’t let the day pass without finding out for myself.
“What’s up with you?”
Hearing my roommate’s voice startled me. He didn’t speak much, and he definitely didn’t make a habit of asking me anything about my life. Usually, we were ships passing in the night. When he wasn’t at home, he was almost always at rehearsal with his French horn and sheet music. He was a musician and the quietest one I’d ever met. He kept to himself and only socialized with the other members of the orchestra.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re pale and sweating, and your eyes look sick. Are you sick?” His upper lip curled outward like he was ready to send me into quarantine or grab a rag to press to his face before bolting from the room.
“No, man,” I said, shaking my head with a subtle laugh. “It’s just nerves.”
“Big test?”
“No, I, uh, I saw a girl from my past—someone I wasn’t expecting to see, and I’m going back to see her again.” His face was impassive; so, feeling awkward, I shrugged. “I’m nervous as hell.”
“Ah,” he said matter-of-factly, looking bored. “Well, I have a big test, so I’m going to the library.”
“Okay, man.” I shook my head, relieved when he grabbed his backpack and closed the door behind him. Jeremy had a way of making me feel terribly alone when he was in the room with me. It was the strangest thing.
Walking to my desk, I glanced at my CDs as the door opened. Surprised, I looked to see Jeremy poking his head in. “Kleenex.”
“What?”
“Put some Kleenex in your pockets. You know, for the sweating.” He gave me an awkward smile. “Maybe it’ll help.”
“Good idea, thanks, man,” I said, giving him a grateful wave as he nodded and closed the door again. I had the strangest urge to call my brother, even though I knew he’d probably give me all kinds of shit for even entertaining the idea of winning Tilly over again. He knew that she never accepted my calls and that every painstaking letter I sent went unanswered. He knew it all. And more than anything, Brad wanted me to just get over it and move on with my life.
Brad and his girlfriend, Kristi, had broken up, and he’d been serious with at least five girls since then, each one hotter than the next. But deep down, I knew he missed Kristi, and part of him would always wonder what might have happened if we’d stayed in Illinois.
Maybe that’s why he’d decided to stay in Europe for college.
He couldn’t face the answer.
Brad and I had a lot in common. Just like my older brother, it was that same part of me that was desperate to know if Tilly and I could somehow start over. Despite the countless unanswered calls and letters, I wasn’t ready to give up on us.
Reaching for the only Prince CD I owned, I opened the case and stared at the picture of us that I tucked inside with the lyric booklet. Her friend, Veronica, had taken it the night of the turnabout dance. Tilly was wearing an emerald green dress that brought out the color of her eyes. The look on my face captured how I always felt with Tilly—not only smitten but grateful. Her eyes were closed as she pressed her lips against my cheek. I had dozens of pictures of us together, but this one spoke to me in a way the others did not. Her eyes were closed, but that didn’t diminish the love I felt when staring at the photo.
We loved each other. It was real. And I still felt it just as strongly as I did the day that photo was taken, and I was ready to tell her, even if my sweating body wasn’t.
Closing the case, I placed it back on my shelf and grabbed a few Kleenexes from Jeremy’s desk, thrusting them into my pocket. Just as I was taking a deep breath, ready to face my past, someone knocked on the door.
“Yo, Wyatt,” Ruben said from the other side. “You there?”
“Yeah, come in.”
“Hey,” he said with a nod. “Dahlia and I are going to hang out on the quad.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re going to see if that loon is back, aren’t you?”
Our campus was a draw for a few crazy preacher types who would hold court on the quad in the hopes of attracting attention. Inevitably, students gathered to listen to their sermons about fornication and our inherent evil natures. We would crack up at their outlandish declarations and pontifications about all the deviant acts we college students were performing on a daily basis. Our favorite liked to preach on Sundays, knowing that many of us didn’t make it to church.
