Our Beating Hearts

18

WE SPEND THE AFTERNOON WANDERING through downtowns-past music venues and into vintage clothing shops, where Calum spends his food money on a leather jacket. Outside, there are flyers all around, advertising deejay nights and college theater, and a band called Motel/Hotel, scheduled to play this weekend. And everywhere we look, there are restaurants. Calum announces that he's starving-and, luckily, he has his parents' debit card, so we stop at an ATM.

"When I was little, every time my mom took out money, I used to think we'd won the jackpot," says Calum. "I was like, Mom rules at this game."

"I just loved how crisp the bills were when they came out," I say.

"I still love that."

"I think now I just love it for being money."

He smiles. "That's sweet, Ash. You love it for who it is."

We stop at a diner for buttery grilled cheese sandwiches, and then we follow it up with ice cream before returning to Caitlin's. And for the whole walk back, there's this happy buzz in my stomach. Like, maybe this is it. This is what college is like.

Back upstairs, we tuck in on opposite ends of the couch with our phones, Calum texting his cousins while I text Sierra.

How's she doing??? she asks.

He seems okay.

Really? Ugh. Well, Jennifer's a mess.

Calum nudges me. "Want to see a picture of me when I was a kid?" He scoots closer, tilting his screen toward me. I peer at the image: Calum in a bucket hat. That's so fucking cute. He swipes through a few more pictures, landing on a brightly lit shot of two men grinning at each other under a floral arch. One is honey-blond with a kind of a granola vibe, even in a wedding dress. The other man is wearing pants, and he has Calum's face. I mean, literally, he's an older version of Calum.

It's really disorienting.

"I didn't know you had gay uncles," I say finally.

"They aren't my uncles, they're my cousins' friends, the one in the dress is Greg and he's gay. I think Bruno, the tux, is pan."

And then neither of us speak. I fiddle with the remote control. Calum stares at it for a moment.

Then his phone starts vibrating, and he snaps back into herself. "It's Sierra," he says. He meets my eyes while she answers it. Then he slips back to Caitlin's bedroom, the phone to his ear.

For a minute, I just stare at the ceiling fan. My phone buzzes a few times. Sometimes I think texting is the single worst technological advancement in history. Because yeah, it's convenient. But in moments like this, it's like someone's poking you repeatedly, going hey hey hey.

Of course, it's Jennifer, king of casual.

Jenny: Hey, how's it going down there? Just wondering if you guys have any cool plans. Bet there's lots of college guys there, heh. Calum probably won't miss me too much.

Has he mentioned me? lol

I stare at the phone. I don't know what to say. Like, holy shit. I feel bad for Jennifer. I really do. But this is so far above my pay grade, I don't even know where to begin. So I give up. I set my phone down and dig around for my sketchpad and pencils instead. I need to get into my zone. That happens sometimes when I'm drawing. It's like the world stops existing. Everything disappears, except the point of my pencil. I can never quite explain it to people. Sometimes there's a picture in my head, and all I have to do is translate it into curves and shading. But sometimes I don't know what I'm drawing until I draw it.

I settle back onto the couch and start sketching-and instantly, my body calms. When I draw, it's

almost always fandom stuff. People on Tumblr seem to like it.