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“Are you having a happy birthday, Patrick?” she asked quietly. She already knew the answer.
“I’m a year older. It happens to everyone.”
“I promise I’ll make you happy when I’m back. ‘Night.” She blew a kiss and hung up.
20
Oh
Christina
April sunset washed the quad buildings with orange and purple. At one side of the lawn, a stage was set up. Blankets checkered the grass, but most people stood, talking and lining up for food at the big outdoor concert, Scene on the Green, that our school always put on before finals.
Two weeks until graduation.
I strolled, hugged people hello, and stopped to chat. Freshman and sophomore year, Scene on the Green had started the way every event did: drinking and getting dressed with Sydney, Maria, and Ashley while we gossiped and cranked up the music. Sometimes we went to pre-parties, sometimes boyfriends were involved, but it was the four of us, always.
Tonight, I was here alone.
Was it me, or them? Since the game where I’d fallen, Sydney had been standoffish. Our coach Kim must have noticed the strain, because she moved me and Megan to base for a different flyer.
And when the four of us got together — that was strained too. It hurt that Ashley and Maria were following Sydney’s lead. When the cheer season ended, the awkward factor intensified. They spent spring break in Florida without me, then drunk-texted in the middle of the night.
U avoiding us?
We don’t believe you didn’t have the $$$ to come
You never said anything about that before, you were always throwing it around and buying people food and shit
If u were with Patrick we’d understand but u said ur not with him this week
What the fuck is up with Patrick and you anyway. It doesn’t seem like a normal relationship
But I hadn’t repaired the damage. I was caught up in the whirl of Patrick, my classes, finding a tutor for Victorian Lit. Submitting my last make-up project from fall semester. Lengthening my morning runs once the cheerleading season ended. Interviewing for internships. Prepping for finals, which started in less than a week. Talking with Alexis and the entire Ramirez clan about wedding plans.
Though strangely, I hadn’t been able to reach Alexis for the past few days.
Onstage, the band was doing a sound check. A self-satisfied male voice spoke into the mic.
“Hey beautiful. ‘Sup, love. Testing 1-2-3.”
Dexter.
I stiffened. Scene on the Green brought in a big-name band or artist for the main act and a local band for the opener. A student band always kicked off the concert. I hadn’t paid attention to the posters around campus, so I hadn’t realized this year’s Scene on the Green would feature my ex.
Fine. I could deal with hearing Dexter sing. I watched his band rip through their set, trying to ignore the glances my way while he crooned about his good-luck charm.
A year ago, when we first started dating, he’d jumped on a bench in the quad — yards from where I stood now — and serenaded me in front of everyone. Dexter lived to perform; I’d basked in the public admiration.
Now all I wanted was to bask in Patrick’s bedsheets across campus.
In two weeks, he’d graduate.
Neither of us were talking about it.
As Dexter made love to the mic, our eyes met. He adjusted his black muscle tee and smiled. It was anahasmile. AnI gotchasmile.
Turning away, I hurried to the north side of the quad, where concession stands lined the walkway. At the first booth, I felt in my purse for money, then pulled out my hand.
