In the Wake of Wanting (63 page)

When the doors open, Coley takes one step out and stops in her tracks. “Oh, my God. This is
not
your place!”

“You saw it before!” I remind her as I deactivate the alarm.

“Not with furnishings and decorations! Not with that awesome couch and–did Livvy paint that?” She points directly across from us.

“Of course. Hey,” I say, getting her attention, “this has fingerprint authentication for the security system, so we need to get you set up later.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s fancy.”

“The cameras are in the ceilings. You can see them all. All but one of the indoor ones shut off when I come in, and we’ll set them that way for you, too. The only active one stays pointed on the elevators.”

“Don’t walk naked in front of the elevators. Got it.”

“I’m the only one that can get into the system, but just to play it safe, yes. The cameras on the balcony are always on unless we shut them off when we go outside.”

“Where do they point?”

“They’re mounted by the doors, pointing outward. Nothing pointing inward. Any questions?”

She shakes her head and walks toward the kitchen. “Are you really going to cook?”

“I can cook.” I put my hand on the small of her back and guide her to the room where we had custom desks made for us. “Check this out.”

“Flowers?” She walks to the desk that is set up exactly where she said she wanted one and sniffs a fresh bouquet. “They’re beautiful.”

“Welcome home. Have a seat.” I offer her the rolling chair to see how she likes it.

“This is fantastic. I love my desk.”

“Check the drawers…” After she looks inside, her head turns back slowly to me.

“I may be stocked for life.” She pulls out one of the fifty Moleskine journals inside, then opens the top drawer and finds a pen. “My favorite kind, too! In blue!”

“I pay attention. You can hook up your computer to the monitor over there, or move it out of the way when you’re not using it so you can look right out the window. You have the best view in the whole place. Right down onto Morningside Park.”

“It’s lovely, Trey.”

“See that man right there? With the cart?” I ask her, pointing to the street level.

“Yeah.”

“Guess what he sells.”

“Ice cream.”

“Nope. Honest-to-goodness, real live piragua.”

“No. Effing. Way.”

“He does. I’d forgotten about him, but he was here all last summer and most of the fall. Right on that corner.”

“That does not suck snow cones,” she says. “Do you think he knows the song?” The smile on her face is the brightest thing in the room, even though there are paintings accented with yellow hues all over.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Before we continue with the rest of the tour, she finds
In the Heights
on her phone and navigates to “Piragua,” a happy song about the fruity, icy Puerto Rican treat. It’s her happy music, and I will let her do anything to keep her spirits up. She’d gotten progressively better all week, but anytime she remembers what lies ahead of us tomorrow at school, the light fades from her eyes and her despondency begins to return. I just want to help her keep it at bay as best as I can, but I understand completely how she feels.

I pick up her phone and connect it to a Bluetooth speaker that sits atop the tall, four-person table placed in the middle of the room.

“That sounds amazing.”

“You have no idea about the sound system in this place. There are speakers everywhere. That was just the easiest to connect to right now. Come see the rest of the place.”

chapter twenty-eight

A month and a half after moving, the newness is wearing off and the apartment is finally feeling like home to me. Coley hasn’t spent nearly as much time here as I have, so it’s still fun to show off things or to watch her discover new things on her own.

“Want to see some sunshine?” My voice is raspy–expectedly so. After we’d stayed up until nearly two in the morning making love, Coley woke me up in my pitch-black room at seven, raring to go again. In a sleepy haze, our sex this morning was sloppy and passionate and
incredibly
loud.

“Sunshine’s good,” she responds, with barely any voice at all. I reach over her to pick up the remote, activating the new automatic black-out curtains that keep us hidden from the world. “What the… So bright!” she whispers, turning away from the terrace doors and facing me. “Now
that’s
just lazy,” she says, grinning.

“I couldn’t agree more, but I’m exhausted.”

“Your eyes are so blue this morning.” She traces one of my brows with her thumb.

“Yours are, too. A deep blue.”

“Yours are so light.” She kisses me softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Coley. Did you get enough sleep?”

“I’ll nap later. My night was perfect.”

“And your morning?”

“It was like slam poetry personified.” I laugh at her description. “Also perfect.”

“It’s the best send-off for me. Something to remember you by before I head to jail.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” she says, shoving me playfully in the chest.

“It’s an inevitability. Just accept it.”

“I’ll just keep luring you back to bed,” she threatens.

“Not a bad plan, but I don’t think you have the stamina.”

“Oh, I have the stamina. I’ve been doing laps every night at that pool a few blocks away.”

“I’m proud of you.” I think about that first week back at school after spring break, how there were still a few lingering assholes who brought up some aspect of the video. For the most part, though, things were okay for Coley. Regardless of the fact that photos of the two of us together had been all over the tabloid sites and papers, she was still asked on dates by random guys a few times a day. With her hand firmly–and obviously–grasping a fresh can of pepper spray, she politely declined the offers.

During the weeks, now back at school, she’s decided to focus heavily on her classwork, swimming and diving, intent on getting a 4.0 her second semester at Columbia and on making the women’s swim team. For workouts, she had few options, and the closest one was a large pool that would force her to put herself in the public eye on a regular basis. Her brother, Joel, accompanied her the first few times and scared off any potential harassers. By the third evening, she went alone and bravely faced the few people who were rude enough to mention the video to her. The lifeguards there began to help her out, too, and have been keeping an eye on things ever since.

I can’t wait until try-outs in June. Once she makes the team, she’ll have full access to the private facilities in Inwood.

“I don’t know why you’re proud. I ran away from the worst of it while you suffered here alone.”

“Self-preservation isn’t running away. And I didn’t suffer. The scrutiny I received was nothing compared to yours. I’m glad you weren’t here while their idiocy was fresh and abundant. I’m glad you took the time you needed.”

“You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

I squeeze my eyes shut in thought, then laugh. “Laureate, from what I’ve heard of them, that’s not saying much.”

“You’re the best boyfriend I could ever hope for. You anticipate my needs and understand me. No one has ever understood how my depression affects me.”

“If they can’t deal with a complex woman, that’s their problem. Not every guy was built to be the nurturing type. You just happened to stumble across one this time around. I feel like my upbringing and my volunteer work have kind of prepared me for anything.

“I’m just floored by the amount of poetry you were able to write while you were at your mom’s.”

“It’s cathartic. It’s my only way out of the funk some days.”

“You’re gifted. A sign of genius. But what’s great is that it pulls you out and makes you happy.”

“It does.”

“You should submit more of these to journals, you know?”

“After this semester, I probably will.”

I kiss her forehead. “Good. While you do that, I’m finishing my novels.”

“You better. I’m dying to know how they end.”

“I will. It’s my top priority.” This time, my lips land on hers and linger for a few minutes. “Listen, I have a bus to catch.”

“Don’t go, Trey.”

“I have to do this, Coley.”

“You
don’t
have to.”

“I need closure, too. I have things to say.”

“Write an op-ed or something. Pryana would give you space.”

“I couldn’t know for sure that he would read it. I need to make sure I’m heard.”

She sighs and rolls over again, groaning at the brightness of the sun but suffering through it to show her disapproval by turning her back on me. I kiss her shoulder before pushing myself off the bed to get ready for my adventure.

On the Q100 bus, as a much-needed distraction, I go over the notes I’d taken last night at Shea’s restaurant when I met up with Will. He and I went over the four discussion topics that were likely to appear on next week’s astronomy final. The exam wasn’t some easy multiple choice quiz or a test to see if we could put the planets in order. They were all hypothetical questions about the cosmos.

It’s not that I wasn’t prepared to answer them on my own, but having his insight won’t hurt my grade. Unfortunately, talking to him has required me to do
more
research since I didn’t fully grasp half of the concepts he threw out, as if we were talking about the weather. If I can master this, though, I’m sure I’ll ace the final.

I check my phone after it vibrates in my front pocket, and I smile when I see her name.

- -
I really wish you weren’t doing this. It scares me.

I look around the bus at all the other passengers who have been staring at me the whole trip from Manhattan: ladies with small children, men in suits that look suspiciously like lawyers, young women who look like they haven’t slept on a clean bed in more than a couple of nights. There are a few rougher looking guys, too, who could pass for inmates in the place we’re all heading to.

City of New York Correction Department: Rikers Island. Home of New York’s Boldest.

The sign is ugly and dated, and I find the last line to be odd. To whom exactly are they referring? The rapists and killers and thieves they house in these facilities? I might suggest Most Heinous. Least Honorable. Don’t denigrate the word
bold
. It has many fine uses.

- I’m fine, laureate. I hear there are a lot of cops here.

I may as well deliver a lighthearted response in hopes of easing her fears.

- - Aslon and Pryana should never have asked for this story.

- The story was my idea.

Truth be told, there may be no story, and I gave that warning to my professor and president when I left class yesterday. Maybe Asher won’t be willing to talk. Maybe this trip will be fruitless.

But I have things to say to him, and I’ve been promised a captive audience. He’s going to hear what I have to say, whether he wants to or not.

While the driver sits behind other buses at the gate as it waits its turn, I go through the questions I’d memorized last night, as well as the statements I’d intended to make to him. While Danny had arranged for me to have a private meeting with my ex-friend with only a guard present, I still wasn’t allowed to take anything electronic into the room with me, nor anything that could be used as a weapon, such as a pencil or pen, so I wouldn’t be able to jot down his responses.

I was told that there was a good chance the interview would be recorded, and that I could have a copy of it for a small fee. Whatever the fee, I’ll be willing to pay it.

- - Call me as soon as you’re on the bus and off the island.

- I will. I love you and I will see you tonight. You’ll still be at my place?

- - Yes, boss. Studying and working on my stories so you can edit them later.

- I have better things to do.

I think about last night and this morning, and how much I love having her around. Ever since spring break, she has gone back to her dorm room on Sunday nights to make sure that her priority is school during the week. When she’s gone, there’s a staleness in the air in my apartment as her absence settles in. I hate it. This week is study week at Columbia, though, and my apartment is infinitely quieter than her dorm building. I have just as much studying as she does, so I’m only a distraction to her when all our work is done.

- - You don’t get to do the “better things” without editing my homework. Sorry, boss.

- Stop calling me that.

- - Stop being so bossy, then.