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With another heavy sigh, Ivy gets up again. “It’s whatever. I need to go get ready.”
“Is he coming to pick you up?”
“Yeah. Let me know when he gets here?”
A plan takes shape as I agree. As soon as I hear the water running in the bathroom, I take up a post in the courtyard outside our apartment. Mr. Platonic shows up a few minutes later.
“Hey, Dave,” I say.
He shares the smile he was already wearing and gives me a wave, slowing enough not to be rude but still making straight for our apartment.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
He slows further with a glance at our door. It’s obvious he’d rather be talking to Ivy than me, but he’s polite enough to stay and answer. “Pretty good. You?”
“Not too shabby. Glad to have midterms over. Haven’t seen much of Ivy lately though...”
His smile brightens. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
He’s not sorry. At all.
“So what’s up with you two?”
“Up?” His eyes go shifty.
“I’m pretty much her family here, so I have to watch out for her. You know.” I do a fake chuckle that he matches with a nervous one. “You like her?”
The panic is getting real, but he swallows and tries to cover. “Just friends. You know.” He clears his throat and tosses another look at our door.
“Oh good,” I say with another chuckle to ease his nerves as I move to the door. “I’m not ready to lose her to a boyfriend.”
His relief is tangible, but his eyes are cautious. I take him into our living room and tell him I’ll go check on Ivy, but just then I hear her coming out of the bathroom upstairs.
“Dave’s here, Ivy,” I holler, busying myself with tidying up the room to disguise my motives while I observe. He forgets about me as soon as he hears her voice.
“Hey, sorry. I’m almost ready—just looking for my keys,” she says.
He watches her walk all the way down the stairs—mostly the toned calves showing below her capris, if I’m reading the angle of his eyes correctly. Right before she looks up from digging through her purse, he throws a wall of shutters in front of the appreciation in his eyes.
“Hey,” he says with as much enthusiasm as most people reserve for a passing acquaintance.
“Hi!” She gives him a full smile, tosses her curls over her shoulder without artifice and searches her purse one more time.
His defenses take a major hit from her hair and perfume, but he recovers quickly. He glances my way to see if I’ve noticed, but I turn my back.
“I think your keys are over here.” I fetch them from the kitchen and bring them to Ivy.
She thanks me on her way out the door that Dave has opened for her. He watches her go through, then casts a wary look at me.
I offer him a vacant smile, but I can see that he knows I’m not fooled. He’s head over heels for my roommate.
Ivy’s desertion leaves me antsy and irritable and alone. I could seek out some company, but the most recent additions to our complex are all fresh from the dorms. That doesn’t sound promising as a solution for irritability, and thanks to my taking a year off for Peru, pretty much all of my close friends have moved on from the college scene. Since it looks like thealoneportion of the equation is fixed, I’ll have to do something to change theantsyandirritable. New episodes of the series I’m addicted to won’t be out for six months, and I have no desire to delve further into my life story assignment. In desperation I don my trail shoes and running shorts. I don’t really like running, but it’s a means to an end. The endorphins will be good for me.
I choose a route that will take me through the tree-named streets and up Lookout Mountain. The air is crisp and the leaves are fabulous, blanketing the ground in red and gold and enabling me to ignore theHomo sapiensI spy playing or lounging along my route past the park. I hit the mostly empty trailhead parking lot at not quite a mile, my warm-up officially over as I make my way from asphalt onto Lookout Trail.
My feet appreciate the change to packed dirt, but my quads and calves burn as I zigzag up the mountain. I push through each switchback and enjoy the milder slopes in between, grateful I have yet to pass another soul, though I’ve seen some antlike humans milling about near the lookout above. Judging by the three or four cars in the parking lot, I’ll most likely run into someone somewhere on the trail. I’m hoping I won’t. This kind of solitude—with the autumn air and palette—is beautifully therapeutic.
When I reach the side trail leading to the lower lookout, I spot a small group ahead moving that way. I push harder, knowing it’s only about a hundred more vertical feet to the upper lookout, and reach the top in a rush, legs and lungs afire. Allowing myself a much-needed rest, I bend over my knees, close my eyes, and gulp in the crisp smell of fall. Once my lungs have caught up, I pull a tiny water bottle from my running belt, deciding I’ve earned a few minutes of sightseeing from the top.
