I'm leaving," I say. She sits like a statue on the faded sofa in the tiny living room of our small apartment, eyes forward, not even a twitch or a flick to show that she hears me. That she recognizes my presence. She is not going to stop me from walking out the door.
I think that maybe that's best. Because we were never supposed to work. I knew that from the start, but at the time it was like ever romance film I've ever made fun of. Only thing is, I liked it. I loved it. Every single minute that we spent fighting to be together when the world wanted us apart was like the first time I ever held a girl's hand. Our lives were linked together like teeth in a zipper: still separate, but with the appearance of making something whole.
This is how it begins:
She chews cough drops like they're the elixir of life. Or maybe just happiness. It makes me want to kiss her. I want to know if the flavor that greets me will be cherry or orange or lemon or if it will be one of those disgusting eucalyptus cough drops that make my nose run. But for some reason I don't think I would mind. I think it would almost make me smile, even as snot runs from my clearing sinuses.
I make the mistake of telling Jared this, because we're in lecture and it's hard to pay attention when the professor is droning in monotone and it's even harder when she's sitting three rows down, going through that bag of cough drops like they're candy.
He laughs and punches me in the arm and says that she's Jessica's little sister and he'll introduce me after class if I'm really that interested and I say sure even though in my mind the phrase I'm interested I'm interested I'm interested plays like a favorite song set to repeat.
This is everything that happens in between:
Her name is Leah and I'm making a fool of myself which she mistakes for charm.
"She's only 20," Jared says and I don't care because it's only a two year age difference and it' s not that big of a deal. My parents are ten years apart.
We kiss and she tastes like strawberries which makes sense because that's the color of her hair. Strawberries. They're suddenly my favorite fruit, my favorite scent, my favorite everything. I can't get her green eyes out of my mind.
"Don't hurt her. She puts all of herself into these kinds of things," Jessica warns me and I nod and assure her that that is not my intention. That I can't stop thinking about her. That she's taken over my world, and I've surrendered willingly. Jess doesn't smile but she doesn't say anything else either.
And then Leah and I sleep together and when I wake up in the morning she's still curled in my arms only now she smells like vanilla and sunlight and autumn and I fall in love with her then.
She's young and doesn't know what she wants but she wants this. Us. I know this because she told me so, late at night with the moonlight kissing the pale freckles spattered across her cheeks and I'm only half listening because I'm dying to kiss every single one of them and she says "I want this." So it's okay that everything leading up to that sentence sounded like she was trying to break up. It's okay that I'm not feeling as upset as I probably should.
Sometimes she drinks like there's no tomorrow and I want to shake her and ask her what it is she's trying to numb away. Sometimes I get drunken phone calls at 2 in the morning and then I go and pick her and her friends up because they can't make it home. And this should bother me, and sometimes it does, but then she leans over and rests her head on my shoulder on the short drive home and the world rights itself again.
I'm getting ready to graduate and she's moved into my apartment because she's having roommate problems because a dress got ruined on a drunken escapade and I understand her, but can only relate to her in a distant and vague sort of way. I wonder how things are going to work in the next few months when I move away, because I am meant for bigger places and larger things.
"Jessica said you would say that," she says with little rivers of tears leaking from her eyes and my arms ache to hold her so I do and I say "I'm sorry I don't mean it. We can do this. We can make this work," I whisper into her strawberry hair and she holds me tight and I don't let go.
"You've changed," Jared says and maybe it's true but I don't really mind the difference. Except that sometimes the words bounce around in my head like pop rocks late at night when Leah snores softly beside me. We no longer sleep curled around each other.
"What are we going to do?" She asks and I know that she's not referring to this weekend but I pretend that's what it is anyway and tell her my parents are coming in and I want to take them somewhere nice. She purses her lips and then snags a cough drop from her pocket. The crackle of the wrinkled paper echoes in our silence.
"I'm pregnant," Leah says and the world stops. I ask "How long?" and she says "I don't know," and I sit down on the couch next to her in my graduation robes. My cell phone rings on the kitchen counter. My parents no doubt. We have dinner plans and Leah and I just stopped by the apartment to change quickly but she just sits on the couch and cries and cries and cries and I hold her because that's what I'm supposed to do.
"I like the name James," I say and rest my hand on her stomach, still so flat but it's early yet. I feel her hold her breath and think that maybe that wasn't the best thing to say. "I mean, maybe, if it's a boy. It's just that I thought it'd be nice to name him after my father." She exhales and smiles and I didn't realize until then I hadn't been breathing either.
"I love you," she screams as I pack my bags because I should have listened to Jared and I should have listened to Jess and I should have just left her to her cous dropss. "I didn't lie to hurt you," she cries and my gut twists as I realize again that I have ignored pieces of my life and deserted parts of my future these past few months for a child that doesn't exist. "I just didn't want you to leave me. Everyone in my life leaves me."
"Give me some space," I beg her as I close my suitcase. She retreats from our bedroom and I hear the old sofa creack as she throws herself upon it.
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