Forever With You (Silver State Series) (24 page)

After hanging up the phone, two thoughts occur to me in quick succession.  The first, of course, is Tawny.  I never told her I’d submitted the photo, because it wasn’t long after that she stopped talking to me.  I wonder if she’s seen it yet, and I wonder what she thinks of it.

The second thought is of the five hundred dollar award check with my name on it.  Finally, I can afford to take myself out for a night on the town and have just enough left over to replace my telephoto lens, stupid cat be damned.  And come to think of it, I think a celebratory night out is just
exactly
what I need.

Tawny – 6:15 PM

“
I
’m heading down for dinner, you wanna come?”

I glance up from my anthropology textbook, which I hadn’t really been reading anyway, to see Harumi standing next to the door with her hand on the knob.  I’m not really hungry, but I drag myself up off the bed anyway.  It’s going to look suspicious if I stay up here and refrain from eating, and I don’t want my mood to attract any undue attention.

We ride the elevator down to the dining hall.  Harumi loads a plate with spinach salad and a gelatinous slab of lasagna, while I ladle out a bowl of chicken noodle soup.  We find a small table in the center of the seating area and set down our trays.

As soon as we’re seated, Harumi unrolls her silverware and says, “So did you go check out your picture?”  I nod as I slurp up some chicken broth.  “It’s good, yeah?” she probes.

“It is good,” I admit.  “Kyle’s a talented photographer.”

Harumi watches me with her trademark thoughtful expression as she tucks into her salad.  I could say something to change the subject, divert her attention to another, safer topic, but I don’t bother.  Instead I stare down at my soup as I stir the noodles and bits of carrots and peas around in the oily yellow liquid. 

“Is it safe to assume you two are on the outs?” Harumi finally asks.  She’s leveling me with the same frank, laissez-faire expression she used weeks ago when she somehow talked me into having sex with Kyle in the first place.  I didn’t exactly do a good job keeping her abreast of the results of our conversation.

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug.  “It was fun while it lasted.”  To my own ears, it sounds like I was able to effect a respectable air of indifference, but Harumi doesn’t appear to be fooled.

“What went wrong?” she asks.

“It was like I said,” I reply, hating that I feel slightly defensive.  “It was just about the sex…for both of us.”  I meet her gaze with an unblinking expression of my own, daring her to challenge me on it.

She surprises me when she simply clucks her tongue and looks back down at her food.  “Interesting,” she says, almost as if to herself.

“What’s interesting?” I ask.

“Are you
sure
he just wanted sex?”

“Yes.  Why?”  I cross my arms and lean back, waiting to hear what she has to say.

She chews and swallows her bite before responding.  “Well.  The title of your portrait for one.  Do you know who Dulcinea is?”

I shake my head, unable to keep from gawking at her as she prepares to clear up that bit of mystery for me.

“She’s one of the most famous literary characters in history,” Harumi clarifies.  “Ever read
Don Quixote
?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s about a man who actually turns out to be kind of a nutcase.  But he has this woman, his one true love, named Dulcinea.  He describes her as having superhuman beauty, I think, and he idealizes her throughout the book.  She sort of represents this model woman, the one nobody else can possibly measure up to.  She’s what grounds him, the one he anchors himself to during his travels.”  I can only gape, slack-jawed, as Harumi dabs at her mouth with her napkin.

“Anyway,” she continues, “she ends up being a figment of his imagination, but volumes have been written about the symbolism inherent in her character.  To be someone’s ‘Dulcinea’ denotes hopeless devotion…unrequited love.”

Chapter 21 – Dating You

Tuesday & Wednesday, November 1-2

Tawny – Tuesday, 3:30 PM

I
sigh as I check the time on my cell phone for about the fiftieth time since stepping into this god-awful line.  It’s Election Day, and countless students, faculty and staff are queued up inside the union to cast their ballots.  I’m teetering on the verge of renouncing my constitutional right and privilege to vote when, at long last, the line begins to move.

After twenty more grueling minutes, it’s finally my turn to step behind the blue curtain.  I show my driver’s license and student ID to the volunteer, and she checks me off in her computer before indicating the booth on the far right.  All that waiting, and it takes me a grand total of two minutes to cast my ballot. 

My cell phone vibrates with the arrival of a text message just as I emerge from the booth feeling like a good and conscientious citizen.

I’d like to take you out tonight.  Would that be OK?

I stop short of the door that opens outside to reply affirmatively to Aiden’s message.  I’d wonder at the fact he’s asking me out in a text message, but this isn’t his first time doing so.

I shove out the front door onto the sidewalk and begin my trek back to the dorm. 
I have a date tonight,
I think to myself.  And this is a good thing.  Right?

Tuesday, 7:45 PM

I
concentrate on swinging my arm back and forth in a perfect pendulum, squeezing one eye shut as I focus on the center pin.  Finally, on the fourth or fifth swing, I release the ball, allowing it to drop from my fingers and land with a heavy thud on the scuffed up wooden floor.  The ball rolls straight forward for the first ten feet or so, then veers sharply left.  I watch with helpless resignation as it drifts closer to the edge, then finally spins into the gutter.

I flush with embarrassment as I turn back around to face Aiden – I can tell he’s trying his hardest to hold in his laughter.  It’s the third frame, and so far my score is a big whopping zero.  Aiden, on the other hand, is clearly a bowling fanatic – he’s gotten two spares and a strike.

“You’ll get it next time,” he says with a huge smile as he passes me to take his turn.  I’d almost say he’s
glad
to see how much I suck.  I sigh as I plop down in one of the chairs behind the computer monitor and pick up my cup of Sprite. 

Bowling is sort of a weird idea for a date if you think about it.  Aiden and I have barely spent any time together since we got here, since we’re alternating turns.

I sit back and watch as he plucks his neon orange ball from the ball return.  He grins back at me as if to say
Watch this
, then turns, squaring his hips and shoulders as he prepares his approach.  I stare at the back of his head as he moves forward and releases the ball.  It curves to the left but then nips back around to the right and strikes the headpin, toppling the others directly behind it.  They scatter, leaving only one stubborn, solitary pin.  I watch Aiden’s shoulders tense as he waits – it wobbles as if in slow motion, then finally falls.

Aiden whirls around with fists raised, and I flash him a thumbs up.  He’s sort of fun to watch when he’s excited.

The rest of the game proceeds much the same way.  We finish the tenth frame with final scores of 27 and 205 – I don’t think I need to specify which score belonged to whom.

Aiden slings his arm around my shoulders as we walk out of the bowling alley and hugs me up against him.  “Wasn’t that fun?” he exclaims, all smiles.

He’s like a kid opening presents on Christmas morning – his excitement is infectious.  “I had a good time,” I reply truthfully.

Just as we reach his car I see a familiar face coming toward us – it’s Leila Anderson along with a handful of other girls.  “Hey, Tawny,” she says with a quick smile.

“Hi, Leila.”

“Who was that?” asks Aiden casually as we slide into his car.

I pause, trying to think of an accurate way to describe my relation to Leila.  “Friend of a friend,” I say after a moment.  My stomach twists unconsciously as my mind strays from Leila to Les to Kyle, but I puff out a short breath to expel the thought.  Aiden simply nods, letting it go as he cranks up the volume on some Top 40 station. 

It’s less than a ten minute drive back to the dorm.  As we pass the first light on campus, Aiden looks at me and says, “Do you mind if I park at my place and then walk you to your dorm?”

“That’s fine,” I tell him.  I’m a little surprised by the question, but I don’t mind it – Aiden lives in an apartment building not far from Argenta.

Once we’re parked, he gets out and joins me on my side of the car.  He holds his hand out to me, and I take it.  He waits for us to cross the street before he speaks.  “You look really good tonight, by the way – I meant to tell you earlier.”

I glance down dubiously at my flats, jeans and peasant blouse.  I hadn’t bothered changing after class before he came to pick me up.  “Thanks,” I reply.  “You do, too.”  And he
does
look good.  He’s in a nicely fitted pair of jeans and a close-cut shirt that shows off his brawny arms and chest.  He tips his face down to grin at me, and my heart skips a beat at the appearance of his dimples.

In no time at all, we’re standing outside my dorm while a few other students come and go around us.  Aiden steps in front of me and turns to face me, then places a hand against my cheek.  My heart begins to beat faster. 
Here we go,
I think to myself. 
This is it
.  I close my eyes as he leans closer, pursing my lips slightly in anticipation of our kiss.  I flinch a little when he drops a light kiss on the tip of my nose instead of my lips, but then before I have time to fully react he bends down and brushes his lips over my now-slightly-open mouth.  When he pulls back he has a smile on his face, but I’m not sure whether to read it as affectionate or amused.  It might’ve actually been a pretty decent kiss if I hadn’t opened my mouth right before it.

I can feel my cheeks coloring slightly as he gazes down at me, and it flabbergasts me that I sort of want to try again.  It may be wrong, but I feel the need to…well,
compare
– see if I can enjoy kissing someone else just as much as I did Kyle.  I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, feeling conflicted.  Finally, bolstered by the ravenous look emanating from Aiden’s eyes as he stares at my mouth, I take a deep breath and reach up to hold his face in my hands and guide it back down toward my lips.  I can tell by the way his jaw clenches he’s surprised, but it takes him only a fraction of a second to start getting into it.  First he wraps his fingers lightly around my wrists, then he slides them slowly down my arms to my shoulders.  I shiver as I feel his hands drop to my waist and tug me in just a hair closer.

We break the kiss a moment later.  I notice Aiden didn’t try putting his tongue in my mouth, but I can’t tell if that’s because he didn’t want to, or if he’s just trying to be respectful.  Either way, I feel slightly frustrated, although I try not to show it.  I toss him a flippant smile as I pull away, then grin deeper in satisfaction when I notice his hesitance to let me go.

“Tawny,” he rasps.

“What?”

“I…just want to say – I like hanging out with you,” he begins – slowly, carefully.

I nod encouragingly, but he only looks at me as if he’s expecting me to return the sentiment.  “I like hanging out with you, too…” I say quietly, my voice trailing off into an implied question.

“I just – I want to keep…
dating
you – if that sounds good to you?”

Inwardly I smirk at his nervous stammering.  Aiden normally seems so self-assured – and I’ve never been the type of girl capable of reducing such men to stuttering fools.

Suddenly I realize in my own private musings I may have delayed my response a beat too long – his expression is shifting from hopeful to terrified.  “It sounds good to me,” I say quickly as my heart swells with sympathy for his suffering.

He breathes a sigh of relief before dropping a final chaste peck on my cheek.  “Great,” he says.  “Well… See you in class tomorrow.”

I nod.  I can feel his eyes on me as I turn to go inside.

Kyle – Wednesday, 5:00 PM

I
gaze down at the floor between my feet as I sit on the corner of a padded bench doing bicep curls.  When I glance up a moment later I notice Les’s eyes are locked on my reflection in the mirror.  His mouth is set in a grim line as he repeatedly squats with a barbell resting on his shoulders – I can tell it’s stacked with a ridiculous amount of weight.

“What’s up with you today, dude?” he asks as he finishes his set and lifts the barbell over his head to release the weight.  “You’ve been acting all quiet and shit.”

I look back down, concentrating on the pull in my muscle as I lift and lower the thirty pound dumbbell.  Honestly, I’m surprised Les noticed – he isn’t usually the most intuitive.  It’s part of the reason I like hanging out with him when I’m in moods like the one I’m in today. 
He
would
choose now to start being observant
.

Unfortunately, I don’t really have a good answer for him – I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.  First off, there’s Donna.  She had radiation therapy a couple weeks ago, and she tells me she’s doing as well as expected, but I pick up on the wariness in her ordinarily bubbly tone every time I talk to her on the phone, which is often.  She still says she doesn’t want me to come home, which in some ways is frustrating and in others also a relief.  Every time I hang up from talking to her I’m left with more questions than answers, and I’d give just about anything to talk to Tawny, but I can’t.

Also, I continue to be bothered by phone calls from Tricia – and this is the part that’s especially difficult to explain.  It isn’t her calling
per se
that’s so irritating to me.  It’s just that I can’t figure out why the thought of calling her back doesn’t appeal to me.  When I think how different my response has been to present circumstances, compared with how I would certainly have reacted just a few short months ago, it sends me into a tailspin.  It’s disorienting being aware of the extent to which you’ve changed in such a short period of time – it leaves me feeling like I don’t even know who I am anymore.