"I can't remember what happened that night. I'm not talking slippery details or fuzzy-edged visions; I mean a complete and utter blackout. Like I wasn't even there. Except... I know I was."
Since the death of her boyfriend six months ago, Morgan Cai...
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Once Thanksgiving is over, I'm surprisingly eager to get back to college. And not because the situation at home is pushing me away.
Cleaning out the basement with Mom is therapeutic. Once we've cleared the dust and there's a pile of stuff in the backyard ready for Goodwill, a sense of peace seems to settle over us all. We haven't removed the final traces of Caleb. Instead, with the tartan couch steam-cleaned and the rickety pool table fixed and a new smell of forest pine air freshener, he feels more present than ever.
I don't cry when Dad drops me off at my dorm. For once, I feel like I'm back somewhere I'm meant to be. When we hug goodbye, I hold onto him for a couple of seconds longer than natural, hoping the squeeze conveys the kind of sappy words he hates to hear aloud.
And I'm okay. Despite everything, I'm glad to be here, and once I'm left in the bedroom alone I find myself smiling like an idiot. It's crazy how much difference a few days can make. I'm looking forward to getting back into a routine with my classes; I've already decided I'm going to study harder for these last few weeks. I'm looking forward to taking better care of myself, whether that be eating three full meals a day or maybe even signing up for the gym. And I'm also looking forward to the next time I get to hang out with Fazia, Adam, and Elliot.
The new friends who've quickly become my closest.
I catch the first two in the cafeteria on Monday evening, spotting Adam's long hair and Fazia's floral hijab amidst a sea of other heads. It now feels natural to walk over and slide into the spare seat on their table.
"Where's Elliot?" I ask, when the greetings and How-was-your-Thanksgivings are over.
"Cramming," Fazia tells me. "He's got a big biochemistry exam tomorrow morning. Second day back—he's got it rough."
I try to keep a lid on my disappointment. "So he's not eating?"
"Don't think so," says Adam. "Last I heard, he was woefully underprepared, so stopping here for a slice of cold pizza might actually be the difference between passing and flunking."
Fazia turns her nose up at her plate. "And this pizza is definitely not worth it."
"Yeah," I agree. "Not even close."
I keep a smile on my face, but inside I'm a little deflated. Elliot's absence shouldn't be such a big deal—especially when Fazia and Adam are lively enough company on their own—but I had been looking forward to seeing him for the first time in a while. I would never admit it, but there's a slight flutter of anticipation every time I think about it.
I guess I'll just have to wait a little longer.
After dinner, I head to the library, riding the novelty of my motivation to knuckle down for the rest of the semester. But it's hard to concentrate. Maybe a few days off have taken me out of the swing of things, because even in an almost-empty study corner I can't focus on my laptop for more than a couple of minutes. It's not long before I pull out my phone and start scrolling.
