Someday You'll Laugh (8 page)

“But why? You were my perfect couple. He can’t do that. You were my
perfect couple
.” Her brows furrowed above the questions in her eyes. “How could this happen?”

I flopped onto my bed. Paul’s notes fluttered around me. “I blew it, Colleen. I blew it.”

She plucked the cards up into a neat stack and sat beside me. “How? Why?”

“I scared him off.”

Her frown deepened. “But how?”

“My last letter. I talked about being married.” My stomach twisted and I pressed my hands over it.

Colleen’s sigh billowed into the room. “But this is Paul. He’ll come around.”

I grabbed her arm. “Do you think so? Really?”

“Of course.”

I wanted to believe her. I wanted the phone to ring — to somehow hear Paul’s gentle voice on the other end. I wanted to laugh with him over this huge ridiculous misunderstanding.

Colleen patted my shoulder. Someone knocked and we both jerked. Melinda glided through the door, took one look at me, and clucked in sympathy. “You’re missing him, aren’t you? Was it wonderful being together again?”

Colleen pursed her lips and gave her a wide-eyed look full of meaning. Melinda paused, confusion written on her face.

“You were together, right?” she asked me.

Colleen jerked her head toward the empty wall. Melinda sucked in her breath. “Why are the notes down? What happened?”

“I was stupid,” I said. “That’s what happened. I was stupid, and he broke up with me.”

“Nooo,” she moaned and joined us on the bed. “How? I don’t understand.”

“But he didn’t actually dump you, right? He just wants a break,” Colleen said.

I shrugged. “What difference does it make? He’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry,” Melinda said. “If it’s any consolation, Craig thinks I’m a dweeb.”

“Oh sure it’s a consolation,” snapped Colleen. “Since she’s been going with Paul for, oh let’s see, over two years and you’ve been going with Craig for … oh, wait, not even one day. Yes, it’s a real consolation.”

“Well, sorry, just trying to be nice.”

“Stop it, you guys,” I interrupted. “Just stop.”

They both shut their mouths and we sat in silence for a minute. I looked at Melinda. “What happened with Craig?”

She scrunched her shoulders up to her ears and then let them drop with a groan. “He found out the poems were from me. I told him we—“

“What? You said
we
?” I was incredulous. “Why bring me into it?”

“Your name slipped out. I wasn’t prepared to be caught, and I started rambling. My mouth wouldn’t quit. It was humiliating.”

“Wasn’t the whole point to get caught?” Colleen asked.

Melinda blew out her breath from puffed cheeks. “I suppose it was. Well, it didn’t work. He smiled and said he wasn’t going to get involved with anyone. Then he asked about you.”

My spine stiffened. “What? Me?”

“Yes, you. So there it is. My big fat backfired plan.”

“What did he ask?”

“Who you were. What you were studying. Stuff like that.”

“Oh fine. Isn’t that simply marvelous?”

Melinda gazed up toward the ceiling. “Yes, it is. It is marvelous. He’s fine.”

Colleen slid off the bed. “Broken heart here, Melinda. Focus.”

I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. “No. I’m okay.” I got up, rolled my head and heard my joints snap. I rubbed at the back of my neck. “Come on, is the cafeteria still serving?”

“Till nine,” Colleen said.

The three of us headed over for dinner. I shut the door. In my mind’s eye, I saw Paul’s teetering stack of notes sitting alone on my empty bed.

****

I plunged even more deeply into my education classes. They kept me sane. I did my homework at the library instead of in my room, and I no longer walked through the main dorm entrance where my mailbox was. I entered through the side door and circled around the long way. If anyone else had sent me mail, I wouldn’t know. I never checked.

The weather worsened. We hauled out our heavy coats and scarves. One Friday afternoon in November, I walked downtown with Colleen to buy snow boots. The frozen air made my cheeks sting, and I smirked.

“Frozen air, frozen heart.”

Colleen rolled her eyes. “Come on, Brenda. It’s been weeks. Give it up already.”

Her impatient tone shocked me. I stopped walking and pulled on her arm to make her stop, too.

She looked at me sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve been a sorry mess for weeks. It’s time.”

Her brows crinkled in sympathy. “We’re friends. You can moan as long as you want.”

“No, you’re right. It’s time to be done. Done. He’s gone and I need to move on.”

We started walking again. Colleen nudged me with her elbow. “But it’s Paul, Brenda. You can’t be done.”

I laughed at her waffling. “Colleen. I can’t have it both ways. So, I’ve decided. I’m done.”

If I said the words loud enough and often enough maybe I’d believe them.

But she was right the second time. It
was
Paul. I’d never be done.

****

Colleen and I both sported brand new snow boots on our way back to campus. As we neared the dorm, Colleen automatically went toward the front entrance. I paused and hung back.

She stopped. “Oh, yeah. We’ll go around to the side entrance.”

“No. No, we’re going in this way. I’m done, remember?” I marched resolutely toward the front door, my new boots stiff around my ankles. Blisters were probably already forming. I wrenched open the heavy glass doors and walked through. There were turkey cutouts announcing a Thanksgiving dance all over the bulletin board. I sighed. Thanksgiving was only a week away, and I hadn’t given it a thought.

I supposed Scott would drive me home again if I paid him.

I approached the bulletin board. “You going to this dance?”

Colleen joined me. “Probably. You want to go?”

“Is Melinda going?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we should make it a threesome. Sure, I’ll go.”

I moved away from the bulletin board and faced the mailboxes. I took a deep breath and looked through the tiny window of Box 152. Crammed full. I keyed in my combination, and the little door clunked open. I grabbed the pile of letters and fliers.

“You don’t have to go through everything if you don’t want to. I could do it for you.”

I swallowed. “No, it’s fine.” I skimmed through the pile. Four letters from my mom and a good chunk of adverts from restaurants trying to entice students. “Hey, I got a turkey flier about the dance.”

I walked to the metal garbage can by the drinking fountain and started tossing the junk mail. Near the bottom of the stack, I saw it. I sucked in my breath and leaned against the wall.

“Colleen.” I held out the envelope.

She rushed over and snatched it from my hand. “It’s from him, dated two weeks ago.
Two weeks
. Open it.”

She shoved the letter back at me.

“You open it.”

“No problem.” Colleen ripped it open. Her brows drew down to a fine point. “’Are you okay?’ That’s all it says. ‘Are you okay?’” She flipped the card to the backside as if checking for more. She handed it to me.

I took it and stared.

“Write him back.”

“No reason to.” I dropped the note into the trash and walked away.

Colleen rushed after me. “Are you nuts? He wrote. He’s thinking about you. Write him back.”

I stopped and turned to her. “Done. Remember, Colleen? Done.”

She made an ugly scrunched-up face and marched ahead of me into our room.

****

Later, when Colleen was in the shower, I returned to the entry way and dug through the garbage until I found Paul’s note. I flicked off a candy wrapper stuck to the back and held the card to my chest. I smiled, sighed, and floated back to my room.

Chapter Seven

“Craig’s going to be there,” Melinda said as we walked to the Student Center. “You think he’ll ask me to dance?”

“Why would he?” Colleen questioned. “He hasn’t said two words to you since the secret note disaster.”

“He could’ve had a change of heart. What do you think, Brenda?”

“Maybe. People have changes of heart all the time.”

Melinda stopped walking. “All right. You’re in too good of a mood. You’ve been moping around forever, and now suddenly you’re not. What gives?”

“It’s almost Thanksgiving break. Four glorious days off. Who wouldn’t be in a good mood?”

Colleen looked at me with narrowed eyes.
“Riiight.”

“Hey, there he is!”

Up ahead, Craig entered the Student Center.

“This is my lucky night, I know it,” Melinda said. She pulled off her knitted hat. “Is my hair too squished?”

I laughed and rearranged a few wayward strands. “Looks perfect.”

Music poured from the doors and a strobe light flashed around the main room. We were late to arrive and the dance floor already vibrated with a mass of bodies. I put my hand to my chest as the roaring beat of the music pounded out its rhythm.

“I see dessert!” Colleen yelled at me even though we were only inches apart. “Later.”

Melinda searched the crowd. She shrugged off her coat and handed it to me. “Gonna find Craig,” she hollered and left.

I took off my coat and added our jackets to a huge heap piled on two tables shoved against the wall. I surveyed the crowd. Scott twirled in the middle of the floor with some red-headed girl. She was cute. I supposed if you really knew him, you’d see more than his nose.

Someone bumped me from behind, which given the crowd was no big surprise. When I felt a second bump, I turned around.

Craig.

“Hey, aren’t you Melinda’s friend?” he asked loudly into my ear.

I nodded.
Oh no.

“Want something to drink?”

My eyes darted around the room. Where was Melinda? She should be here, not me. Craig put his hand on my arm and raised his eyebrows.

“Not thirsty,” I yelled back.

His hand dropped to his side. He studied me for a minute, and I squirmed under his gaze.

“Wanna dance?” He gestured toward the dance floor with his head. He smiled and instantly I knew why Melinda was barmy for him.

Someone tugged on the back of my sweater. I turned from Craig and there was Melinda. Her eyes were huge with questions.

I pulled her in front of me. “Dance with Melinda,” I hollered. “I have to go.”

I left them both gawking and grabbed my coat. Dancing with some other guy was the last thing I wanted. I crammed my arms through my sleeves and dashed outside. The frigid air gave me a jolt. I took a breath, jammed my hands into my pockets and hurried back to the dorm.

The hallways were empty and no noise escaped from under the doors. Everyone was probably at the dance. I unlocked my room, walked straight to my desk, and opened the bottom drawer. I reached way back underneath my pile of spiral notebooks and pulled out Paul’s letter.

Are you okay?
he’d written.

I hugged his card to my chest.

I am now.

****

Scott did give me a ride home for Thanksgiving. This time, my folks knew I was coming. When we pulled into the driveway, Mom and my sisters came leaping down the steps to greet me.

Donna jumped into my arms. Mom put her hand on my back and steered me into the house. “So glad you’re here. It’s Aunt Doris’ turn to host this year. We’re heading over there around two. Do you need a rest first? How ’bout a little snack to tide you over? I’ve got some pie crust scraps smothered with cinnamon.”

Dad waited for me in the living room. He unwrapped Donna’s arms from my neck and enveloped me in a smothering hug. “My turn,” he said over my shoulder.

This was way better than the last time I’d come home. Now, if only…

Mother had already retrieved the pie crust scraps and held them before me. Their spicy aroma made me smile. “Here you go, dear.” She looked at my sisters who’d glued themselves to my sides. “Leave her be, girls. Give her a minute to catch her breath.”

She pulled me to the couch and sat me down. “Girls, scat!”

They moaned but wandered into the piano room where the TV blared.

“Can Paul join us at Doris’ this year?” Her eager face beamed.

I noticed a pebble stuck in the tread of my left snow boot. I dug at it with my finger.

“Brenda?”

“Okay, fine. No he can’t. We’re taking a break.”

Mom’s head reared back.
“What?”

“We’re taking a break.”

“Since when?”

“Since for a while.”

“Well, this is news.” She cupped my cheek with her hand. “Whose idea was it?”

“His. But don’t worry, I’m fine now.” I jumped up and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll think I’ll get a glass of milk to go with the scraps.”

She didn’t say anything, and she didn’t follow me.

****

Later, I took my bag upstairs and unpacked my few things into my dresser. I laid my PE Methods book on the desk. Criminal charges should be brought against any prof who’d give a major assignment over holiday break. I opened the drawer to my bed stand and dug out a handful of photos.

Most of them were of Paul and me. At the park. In front of a Christmas tree. Messing around on Mom’s piano. Windblown in front of the ocean. I smiled as I shuffled through them. There was one of Greg and me, too. I’d thought I had gotten rid of all of the Greg photos, but there he was, smiling at me from the patio table out back. I gently touched his image. I’d liked him. He was a nice guy.

Just not my nice guy.

The phone rang downstairs. Mom had it turned up so loud, I was sure the Murphies four houses down the street heard it every time it rang.

The stair door opened. “Brenda, phone.” Something odd in her voice set my heart thumping. I dropped the photos and flew down the stairs. Mom stood by the water-heater with her hand clamped over the mouthpiece. “It’s Paul,” she mouthed.

I took a step forward and held out my hand for the phone. I brought it to my ear. “Hello?”

“It’s me, Paul.”

“Hi.” Hope spurted into my bloodstream.

“When did you get in?” he asked.

“A bit ago.”