Tuesday
Nobody was home.
Sam threw his lanyard onto the floor, lugging his feet through the dark and up the ladder to his top bunk. The other three boys had gone home for the fall break, which meant he could finally have the room to himself. He groaned, letting his face fall to his pillow, when a shuffle from the other bed alerted his senses.
A lump of blankets on the bottom bunk across the room seemed to move. He propped himself up to see a dark silhouette rising from the bed, wrapped up in the comforter. “James?” He muttered. He had sworn the guy had left for his flight earlier this morning.
But as he squinted, he realized this wasn’t James. The hair was longer, messier, and the size was too small.
“Sam?” A female voice said.
“Naomi?” Sam said, surprised to realize that the dark mass was James’s girlfriend.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought everybody had left.”
“Oh.” Sam said. “They did.”
“You didn’t?”
He hesitated. “No.”
“How come?” She asked. When he didn’t respond, she shook her head. “Sorry. Probably none of my business.”
He cleared his throat, waiting for her to excuse herself. When she didn’t, he said, “What about you? I thought you were supposed to be going out of town?”
The dark mass of her body was still, except for the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. “Something came up,” she said. By her tone, it was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. “Is it… do you mind if I stay here?” She asked.
He made a face, glad it was dark enough that she couldn’t see him. He had been looking forward to having the room to himself for the week; it had been ages since he’d had a bit of space to himself. He wanted to tell her no, but he had never been good at setting boundaries, so instead he just heaved a sigh. “Sure.”
There was another moment of silence. “I can leave,” she said. “If you’re uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s fine,” he said, not sure why he was doubling down on his decision. Guilt, he supposed.
“Thanks, Sam.”
“No problem.”
A few minutes passed. He felt himself drifting off when he heard a small creak of the bunk, a quiet voice piercing the silence.
“Goodnight.”
“Night,” he murmured back.
And there it was. The longest conversation they’d ever had.
Wednesday
The campus was empty the next day, save for a few students that hadn’t run off as soon as their last class ended before break. Usually, these streets were a flurry of backpacks and students rushing to classes, or loitering with their friends outside of the buildings. Now, a quiet stillness had fallen over campus, framed by trees that were almost barren in the November air. Sam preferred it this way.
He walked to the financial aid office, holding an appeal letter in his hand. When he had awoken this morning, he had been relieved to see that Naomi had left. He dressed in his nicest t-shirt and slacks, hoping to make a good impression on the employees in the financial aid office. It had been incredibly demeaning, begging for more money from an institution that he knew was loaded with it, but he had little choice.
His knee shook up and down restlessly while he waited in the office after handing his documents to the front desk. Earlier this semester, he had been put on a financial hold due to an outstanding balance on his tuition. He had already funneled his savings, which really hadn’t been much, into his first two years of college. He was working multiple jobs on campus and had already taken out as many student loans as he could get. Somehow it still didn’t cover all of his fees. His only choice now was to get private loans, and he had no clue who he could ask to co-sign for it. His parents were barely getting by on their measly salaries as it was, and he was hesitant to burden them with more financial strain.
He sighed, rubbing his palm against his jeans to settle his sweaty hands.
When the director of the office called him in, he pasted a smile onto his face and stepped into her room.
“Hi, Sam,” she said. He couldn’t get a read on whether her expression suggested good news or was just a regular friendly smile.
“Hi,” he said.
“So, your appeal.” She gestured for him to sit, which he did. She pulled out his documents, including his tax forms and ID’s, and sighed. “I remember getting your email over the summer. Do you want to know why you were denied?”
“Um, no, ma’am.”
“You’re a great student. That’s clear from your transcripts. Unfortunately, we’ve milked dry all of our merit funds and have already allocated as much as we could to you and our other students with financial needs. We just don’t have any more scholarships available in our office for this year.”
He sat up straighter. “I—isn’t there anyway – I mean, can’t you—” He had a hard time getting the words out. He had thought about what he would say, but he was rattled by the immediate rejection. “Isn’t it possible to at least match what I got last year?” He said finally, embarrassed at how badly he was articulating himself. Surely this was doing him no favors.
Her lips went into a thin line. “I’m sorry, Sam. I’ve tried everything I can for you. I want to help, really I do. Have you tried applying to external scholarships?”
He hated this line of questioning, as if he hadn’t already gone and explored every other avenue available to him. “Yes,” he said, trying not to sound annoyed. “Everything I could find.”
“And you didn’t hear back?”
He shook his head. He had won maybe five hundred from one scholarship, which didn’t feel worth mentioning, considering that could barely cover a couple of textbooks. It had all been so easy back in high school, when he could trick his teachers into thinking he was intelligent with nothing but a few well written essays. Despite the rags to riches story his small town dreamt up for him as soon as he received scholarships to attend a private school out of state, college had been a whole different beast altogether. His intelligence meant nothing here, in a place where such a large chunk of the student population received private tutoring and could snap up prestigious internships with a single call. His real competition were the other marginalized students, the ones vying for the same funds and positions of leadership he was. The ones who were smarter, louder, more resourceful than he had been. After years of being made to feel smarter than everybody else, it had taken an unending spiral of rejections to make him realize how pitifully mediocre he truly was. He had begun to question what he was even fighting for in this place.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said, giving him an expression of pity that felt ingenuine. “It’s competitive out there.” She rummaged into a drawer, pulling out an informational flyer titled Struggling With College Finances? Try These Five Resources! He scanned the page, most of which were a list of scholarship websites he had already scoured. “Give these a shot,” she said.
He folded up the paper and put it into his pocket. “Thanks,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Aren’t there are other scholarships you might know of?” He pressed. “Or any assistantships that might cover some fees?”
“Not for undergraduates, no,” she said. “You can always apply to become a Residential Assistant next year. That would cover room and board.”
He fought the urge to tell her he already knew that, that he had already started the process of applying. That, however, did not help his current situation. “I’ll try that,” he said instead. “Thank you.”
She gave him another pitying smile, then leaned forward. “Another thing, Sam,” she said, placing a new infographic on the desk. “Have you ever considered taking out loans?”
He tore up the infographics on his way to work, throwing them in the trash. He barely noticed the day go by, his mind running with other solutions now that the financial aid office had proven a dead end.
By the time he returned to his dorm, all he wanted to do was step into his bed and forget about the day. He jumped when he opened the door and ran into Naomi, who stood by James’s bed.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, equally startled.
“You’re back,” he said, his tone coming out colder than intended.
“Yeah,” she said. “I left my sweater. Sorry. I’ll leave.”
It didn’t seem like she had been in any rush to leave before he showed up. James’s bed was unmade, like she had just been lying in it. He climbed up to his bed, noticing her watch him.
“You okay?” She asked.
“Yeah,” he said. She waited for him to say more. “I’m tired. I’ve been working all day.”
“Really?” She said. “I thought all the offices were closed?”
“That’s probably a relief,” she said. “You can have the rest of the break to yourself.”
It was a simple and innocent comment, but he couldn’t help but be irritated by it. There was no point having time to himself if he couldn’t spend it working, counting the dollars that would go toward his next paycheck. She might view the coming days as a vacation, but all he saw was wasted time. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said.
She sat on James’s bed. “You don’t seem thrilled.”
He sighed at her insistence on conversation. “I need to work,” he said. “I don’t get to take days off. I’m already on financial hold.”
“Really?” She said. “But you already work so much.”
“Minimum wage doesn’t exactly add up to a lot,” he said. “Not when tuition and board is thousands.” She was somebody whose parents paid for everything, so he couldn’t imagine she’d understand the stress of his situation.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” she said, and she really did seem genuinely sorry. “This place just… sucks the life out of you, doesn’t it?”
He peeked down at her from where he laid on his bed, curious at this change in topic. “I guess so,” he said. She was chewing on her lip, so he dared to ask a question of his own. “Is something up with you?”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “Everything’s fine. Well, kind of.” She paused. “Actually, my roommate and I are kind of in a fight right now.”
He raised his eyebrows. “A fight?”
He knew from some of James’s stories that she didn’t get along with her roommate. Sam didn’t know how it could be so hard to get along with just one person, when he managed to tolerate three.
“Well, it was fine for a while,” she said. “But she invited some guy to stay with her over break and … he’s kind of weird. Like, coked out or something. I told her I was uncomfortable with him being there and she got mad at me, because I wasn’t supposed to be here this week anyway. She’s been icing me out. I wouldn’t care normally, but the thing is they never leave the room.”
“That sucks,” he said.
“I’m used to it.” She shrugged. “She’s always doing this kind of thing and getting mad at me for it. I’m moving out next semester.”
“Are they still there?” Sam asked, unable to help himself.
She nodded, and he wished he hadn’t asked. She was blinking up at him expectantly, and he felt like he had no choice now but to at least put the invitation out there, considering he had the whole dorm to himself. “I guess, uh, if you want, you could stay here.” He paused. “Just, you know, temporarily.”
He thought she might find it ridiculous and decline the offer, but her face brightened. “Really?” She said.
He cursed himself internally. “Yeah,” he said, sighing. “Why not?”
There went his week of solitude.
A rustling woke him at 3AM. His eyes fluttered open, staring at the darkened ceiling, until he recognized the sound as gasps coming from the downstairs bunk.
“Naomi?” He said, blinking blearily at her dark form.
Her hand was outstretched, her index finger twitching once. Twice. “You okay?” He asked, trying to raise his voice.
Silence.
He could hear her muttering something incoherent, her blankets twitching in the shadows as murmurs of pain permeated the space between them. It didn’t sound like a good dream. He grabbed one of the small pillows on his bed, hesitated, and threw it over at her. It hit the side of her bed, bouncing onto the ground. “Hey, Naomi,” he said. When she didn’t stir, he threw a larger pillow at her bed. This time it landed right on her stomach, which made her go deathly still. “Hello?” He said again.
“What?” Her voice was hoarse. His eyes were still adjusting to the night, but it seemed she had turned to look at him.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Huh?”
“It looked like you were having a bad dream.”
“Oh.” The word came out as a single breath, an exhalation of understanding. “Did I wake you?”
He eyed the curl of her hair that fell over the edge of the bed, swaying. “No,” he said. “I was already up.”
“You’re lying,” she said, not missing a beat.
He paused, surprised, but didn’t try to deny it. “How do you know?”
“You stutter when you lie,” she said. “You don’t always speak with conviction.”
He didn’t know how she would know anything about his habits when they had hardly spoken a word to each other before this.
“Right,” he muttered, unsure whether to take that as an insult. “Are you doing okay?”
“I’m okay.” Her voice dropped, overtaken by a yawn. She looked cozy in her blankets, a caterpillar curled into her chrysalis. “Sorry for bothering you. You can go back to sleep. I’ll try to be quiet.”
He watched the ceiling, listening to the sound of the clock ticking. “Can I ask what you were dreaming about?” He asked quietly, knowing she could feign sleep if she didn’t want to respond.
A few seconds passed. “I don’t really know,” she answered. “I was in my room, and there were sounds at the foot of my bed. I looked at it, but it was just some kind of shadow. And then it moved on top of me, and it went from a faceless blob to James’s face, and it was holding something sharp to my throat. I wanted to jump away, but I couldn’t even move.”
“James’s face?” Sam repeated, almost wanting to laugh. James was a tall and athletic man, ditzy and lovable in his own way, with large brown eyes that wouldn’t even scare a fly. The last thing he could envision was him holding a knife to someone’s throat.
“Yeah, I know. It’s stupid.” He heard her roll over in the bed. “Hey, Sam? Can I ask you something?”
He didn’t like the shift in her tone. “Yeah?”
“You think James loves me?”
What kind of question was that? He wondered, fidgeting with the edge of his blanket. He didn’t know a single thing about their relationship. The only time he saw them together was when James had brought her into the room to meet the boys, or during mutual events or parties, but they had hardly interacted. James talked about her sometimes, but not to that extent.
“Uh, probably. I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m the one to ask.”
“Mmhmm,” she said, and from her tone it didn’t seem that she had heard him at all. “You know, my mom was really happy when he asked me out. He comes from a wealthy family. She was friends with his mom, back when they both attended the university.”
Sam already knew James was a legacy kid, but he wasn’t surprised to learn that Naomi was one too. “Sounds… like a good match,” he said, unsure what it was that she wanted him to say.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “It does.”
He hadn’t realized he was drifting off into sleep until her voice woke him again, soft this time, almost a whisper.
“I don’t know if I’ll love him the way she wants.”
Thursday
She was gone again that next morning. He went out to town, wondering if it was worth it to pick up another job. Campus work was great for flexibility, but it left him listless when the offices shut down over break. He didn’t want to have to bring it up to his parents. He had assured them that he would be fine, that he’d find a way to manage the finances so that they wouldn’t have to worry.
He peered into a storefront, his eyes landing on a pair of boots displayed at the window. His own boot had been coming apart for weeks, peeling apart on the inside and uneven at the heel. He had to layer up in socks, since there was a cold draft that swept into his right toes. He didn’t want to waste his money on another cheap pair, but the good ones would cost hundreds of dollars he didn’t have to spare. The purchase would riddle him with guilt for ages.
He tried to imagine what his parents would think of his predicament. He could see his father’s face in his mind’s eye, his mustache framing his frown, rapping him firmly on the shoulder and telling him to be smart with his money. And then the warmth of his mother’s smile, the crinkle of her crow’s feet, kissing his forehead and telling him to be good, mijo. Take care of yourself.
With a sigh, he looked down at the scuffs on his boots. He eyed the storefront window again only for a second before continuing on. Maybe the shoes would surprise him, and they’d last the winter after all.
It was so late when Naomi arrived that he thought she had changed her mind.
“Sorry,” she whispered, closing the door quietly as she snuck into the dark room, already in her pajamas.
“You’re back late,” he commented, shifting in his bed. He had just put his phone down to go to sleep.
“Yeah,” she said. “I was at the bar.”
He heard her scuffling around before she settled under her covers.
“I didn’t know your friends were still around,” he said, wondering why she hadn’t chosen to stay the week with them.
“Um. No, I went alone.”
“Oh.” It seemed there wasn’t much to say after that.
“Hey, Sam?” She said. “Don’t hate me for this, but can I keep a little light on?”
He yawned. “That’s fine.”
A small lamp flickered on near her bed. He peeked down at her across the room, where all he could see was the amber glow of the light reflecting on her shoulder, partially covered by her hair. When she settled in, laying her head down on the pillow, her eyes met his. They were dark and luminous, almost deer-like, and it was clear she’d been drinking. “Are you lonely?” She asked.
The question caught him off guard. “No,” he said, before even registering the question.
“You always lie to me.”
“I said it with conviction, didn’t I?”
“I just know you, Sam.” He furrowed his brows as he watched her, astounded by her confidence. It was a bold statement, considering they had barely spoken up until now. She pulled her blanket up to her chin, suddenly reticent.
“I didn’t realize you paid so much attention,” he said, trying to keep his voice light even though her straightforwardness made him uneasy.
“Well.” She shrugged, like that explained it.
“You’ve never really talked to me before this week, you know,” he said.
“Neither did you,” she responded.
“I didn’t realize I was supposed to.”
She was silent for a moment. “I’m not trying to come off weird,” she said. “James talks about you guys sometimes, so I feel like I know you all in a way. And I’m also just a people watcher sometimes.”
“That definitely comes off weird,” Sam said.
He heard the breath of a laugh. “I mean, I just like watching your dynamic when you’re all together. I don’t have friendships that close.”
The truth was that he wasn’t close with his other roommates, not really. He felt that the four of them spent time together out of necessity rather than actual enjoyment, so Sam had never felt particularly attached to them. Maybe it didn’t look that way from an outside perspective. “Sounds like you’re the one who’s lonely.”
He had meant it as a joke, but when he looked down at her again, he could see a tear glinting down her face. He propped himself up in a panic. “I mean – I’m just kidding. Sorry. Don’t take it personally.”
She gave a single laugh, mixed with a sniffle. “It’s just the alcohol,” she said. “Don’t mind me.”
She turned to the other side, growing still.
Conversation over.
He had barely felt like he’d fallen asleep when her mutterings woke him again. He rolled over to the edge of the bed where he saw that the nightlight was still on, lightly flickering over her arm. Instead of trying to immediately wake her up, he sat in the silence, listening to her incoherent ramblings and wondering if this was going to become a nightly thing.
When the mutterings turned into tremors, he called out her name multiple times until she became still. She turned her face up to him, blinking blearily. “What?”
“You were dreaming loudly again,” he said. “Does this always happen?”
She groaned into the side of her pillow. “No. I don’t know. Sometimes, I guess. When I’m stressed.”
“About what?”
“A lot of things.” She paused. “School.” The answer seemed like a cop out, just something to placate him. Her fingers played with the crease on the bedsheet. “What do you do when you’re stressed?”
“Uh… the gym, I guess.” It wasn’t necessarily true. At most he walked around aimlessly just to have something to do, but he didn’t think that sounded as cool.
She nodded, resting her chin on her arm. “Are you religious?”
Her questions were always so out of the blue, like she was always thinking past the present conversation. He needed a moment to think about it. “Sometimes,” he finally responded.
She cocked her head at the answer. “Sometimes?”
“I don’t really believe in God,” he said. “But I want to have something to believe in. The universe, or the forces of nature, or something.”
“And what if there’s not?”
“Well, you gotta have faith in something,” he said. It was what his mother would say, although he wasn’t sure he believed it himself.
“Yeah,” she muttered. “Or you’re stuck having to have faith in yourself.”
“How bleak is that?”
He noticed her crack a smile. “Pretty bleak.”
He stretched his arm up, his eyes drooping. “What about you?” He asked quietly. “Are you religious?”
“No.” She gave a single shake of her head. “But I’m trying to be.”
“Is it working?”
She gave a long sigh. “Ask me again in a year.”
Friday
He was surprised to find that she was still sleeping when he awoke, so he tiptoed around the room as he changed into new clothes. In the crack through his curtain, he could see that it had snowed this morning, covering the roof in a sheen of frost.
When he began toward the door, Naomi raised her head. “Where are you going?” She croaked.
“The dining hall,” he said.
“Can I come with?” At his hesitation, she said, “I’ll only take me like fifteen minutes to get ready.”
It wasn’t the time that made him pause. This was his roommate’s girlfriend, and he had already overstepped in inviting her to stay in the room with him. He didn’t think he should spend more time with her than was necessary. But then again, it wasn’t like there was anybody else on campus for him to hang out with.
Eventually they made their way to the dining hall together. She had seemed pretty neurotic in the few nightly conversations he’d had with her, but her demeanor was different in the daytime. She was energetic and bubbly, poking fun at the loops on his hat and commenting on the way the leaves looked encased in frost. She spoke so much he barely had to say a word, mostly responding with nods and “mm hmm.” If he thought it would be awkward, she left no space for that.
In the dining hall she made herself a waffle, and they talked about their favorite breakfast foods, debating between pancakes versus waffles and sweet versus savory. They passed the library and talked about their favorite books. They stopped in a café and discussed all the people in their social circles they knew with fake ID’s so they could try out the canned espresso martinis from the nearby gas station.
He hadn’t realized how comfortable he had become with her until he found himself laughing at her quips and joking back. It had taken him months to warm up to his roommates the way he warmed up to her in a matter of days, and he didn’t know if it was something about her, or just the isolation of the break.
“You remind me so much of my friend,” she said to him, while they sipped on hot chocolate and watched a flurry of dry snow fall to the ground out the window. “One of my childhood friends. We used to talk like this too.” He noticed that she would fade away from the conversation sometimes, like she was doing now, her eyes hovering just an inch over his shoulder. “She was unassuming from the outside, but she was always so interesting. And so secretly funny.”
“Unassuming?” He repeated. “Sounds like another word for boring.”
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m saying you’re the exact opposite, actually. Just take the compliment.”
He felt the warmth of his mug seep into his palms as he took another sip of his cocoa. “Are you still friends with her?” He asked.
Her eyes dropped to her cup. “I am.” The way she spoke the words was enough for him to realize he’d walked into sensitive territory. Before he could figure out how to change the topic, she added, “She was the one I was planning to visit this week.”
He remembered what she’d said about it a few days ago – something came up. But she didn’t elaborate, and as much as he wanted to pry, he didn’t.
She didn’t dwell on the topic.
The rest of their conversations remained lighthearted, and he found himself having a good day for the first time in weeks – maybe even months. It was almost enough to make him forget about his financial troubles and just enjoy being a student.
It wasn’t her dreaming that woke him up that night. It was something else, stifled gasps into a pillow. Her light wasn’t on this time, but he could see the shoulder of her silhouette shaking slightly in the dark.
“Naomi?” He murmured. She stilled immediately. “Are you okay?” She didn’t respond, but he knew she could hear him.
He didn’t give himself the chance to second guess as he moved to the foot of his bed, climbed down the bunk, and kneeled beside hers. He touched her hand, outstretched over the mattress, and felt as if an electric current went through him. She startled, eyes flying open, yanking her hand back with a gasp, and he moved back. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
She stared at him in the dark, her eyes as black as cooled lava. He couldn’t see the tears on her face, but he knew they were there.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, his face feeling warm now. “Checking on you, I guess.”
She let out a breath that was uncharacteristically shaky. “This is the third night in a row that I’ve woken you up, isn’t it?” She said quietly. “If you want me to leave, you can let me know.”
He didn’t want to admit to her that he didn’t, actually. That he was starting to enjoy her company, even if it disrupted his sleep. He felt stupid enough for coming down here, for having the nerve to reach out to her when the best thing would have been to pretend he didn’t hear anything at all.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “Whatever it is that’s been on your mind. But you can. I’ll listen.”
Her eyes raked over his tousled hair and knitted brows silently before she reached out, her fingers brushing his hand. “Can I ask you something?” She said, her voice deathly quiet. “And if it’s inappropriate, you can say no.”
“What?”
“Can you sleep next to me?”
The request was so unexpected he held his breath. He was shocked by the question, but even more shocked when he found himself settling under the blanket beside her without a word.
He reached up to her face, feeling the dampness on her cheek and the wet flutter of her eyelashes as she sniffled.
“My friend tried to kill herself last Friday,” she whispered with no preamble. His body became still. “They found her with her wrists … you know. It was her third attempt. At least that I know of.” Her face was flushed with warmth, and he felt another one of her hot tears slide down his thumb. “I bought a bus ticket to go see her. We haven’t seen each other in years. We’ve been best friends since we were ten, but we hadn’t seen each other in so long. We were on the phone just last Thursday, and she was telling me how excited she was to see me. And then Friday morning… her mom called me. And all I know now is that she’s on suicide watch. I don’t even know how she’s doing.”
He didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry didn’t quite seem to cut it. He stroked his thumb against her cheekbone, feeling like it was the only comfort he could provide.
“I know I should be more supportive,” she continued. “Is it wrong that I’m angry?”
“No,” he said, although in truth he wasn’t sure.
“I’m just so sick of this invisible sickness that’s inside her. I just – I miss when we were little. When it was all simple. Is that bad?”
He shook his head again. That, he could understand. “I know,” he said. “Me too.”
Her sniffles were soft as she pulled herself closer. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this close to another person, and he let her melt into him. “When we were little, we wanted to be blood sisters. I had the bright idea of going into the kitchen and using a knife to prick our fingers and press them together. I know, it’s unsanitary. I hated doing it, making that small cut, but she did it so easily. And I wonder sometimes if I’m the one that started this whole thing for her.”
His palm pressed against her back now, and he wondered if he could hear the beat of her heart. “You might be giving yourself a little too much credit,” he said after a moment. “I don’t think mental illness works like that.”
“I know.” There was a small sigh. “I can’t help but feel guilty anyway. And helpless, I guess, knowing there’s nothing I can do.”
“It’s not your responsibility, Naomi. You can support your friends, but you can’t dictate what they do. You can’t blame yourself for that.”
She absorbed his words, then gave a small nod. “I know.” She paused. “The thing is, I can’t even really blame her for wanting to die. It’s not like the thought’s never crossed my mind either.”
He patted her back while she tearfully sniffled into his chest. He had never been particularly adept at handling emotional situations like this, and although everything about this was unorthodox and probably wrong, he was grateful that the dark provided a buffer.
After a few moments she silenced, her breathing becoming regulated. He wondered if she had fallen asleep, until she spoke again. “Do you have insecurities?”
“Of course, I do,” he said, surprised she’d even ask. “Everyone does.”
“You seem so… nonchalant most of the time. And you work so hard. You were always studying when James invited you out..”
His face flushed. “Is that nerdy?”
“No,” she said. Her voice was soft. “It’s admirable.”
“But it’s not enough,” he said. He didn’t know why he said it, and he wanted to shove the words back into his mouth as soon as he did. She moved her head up to meet his eyes, curious.
“What do you mean?”
He glanced down at the tear streaks on her face and took a breath. “So much of my time goes into working, but nothing really comes from it. I think I spend more time struggling than succeeding.”
“But you’re still persevering,” she said. “You haven’t stopped trying. That’s the difference between those that succeed and those that don’t.”
He didn’t think it was so black and white. He knew James, for instance, had a family that was well-connected, and he’d managed to snag prestigious internships every summer even when his GPA tanked. But then again, Naomi was in the same tax bracket as him, so Sam didn’t expect her to understand. He didn’t know why he’d even bring that up. “Maybe,” he responded, instead.
“You didn’t say that with conviction.”
He almost snorted. “To be honest, I think the real difference is money.”
She became silent at that. Instead, she touched his cheek, coming nose to nose with him while he held his breath. “I really do admire you,” she said. He was keenly aware of her breath brushing his face. “You’re driven. You have a depth that I don’t see in…” she trailed off, and he realized the comparison she was making. Instead of saying his name, she said, “…others.”
He didn’t know how to feel about that. He frowned, feeling out of place in this bed that didn’t belong to him, holding a girl that wasn’t his. But then he felt her face, wet with tears, and he didn’t pull away from the light touch of her kiss.
Saturday
He invited her to his bed the next night. He had spent the day riddled with guilt, had even gone as far as to wash James’ sheets just to feel cleansed of the betrayal they had pulled, but the warmth he felt when he saw her return to the room that evening surpassed his remorse. It was the last night before the others returned anyway – one more day of this weird November haze before the campus was back in full force.
She didn’t decline the invitation. In fact, she climbed up to his bunk and settled in beside him, chest to chest on the twin mattress. And like before, they talked.
It felt innocent, even when his arm wrapped around her back and even when her face buried into his chest. They just talked.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so comfortable around another person. There was a lack of pressure with her around. There was something about the way she spoke to him that made him feel understood on a level he hadn’t felt with anybody else here. And the more they spoke, the more he wished that none of his other roommates would return. The more he wanted to stay cocooned in her presence, talking about their family relationships and their dreams and their problems, as if just speaking it aloud to a sympathetic ear was solution enough.
Sleepy words, unfiltered in the dark.
“I almost transferred out my freshman year.”
“My parents used my savings to avoid foreclosure.”
“I almost jumped off the roof the first time I got high.”
“Do you really want to stay in a loveless relationship?”
“Sometimes I worry that every choice I make is just for my mom’s approval.”
“I’ve never told anyone, but…”
And on and on they went, the pendulum of their conversation swaying from casual to serious within the span of a minute and then back in a comfortable rhythm. It was some odd hour of the night that they dozed off, in the middle of a conversation. Sam had no memory of that last thing they spoke about before he fell asleep.
Sunday
The bed was empty when he awoke.
He blinked blearily at the space next to him, startled when the door flew open and his roommate Greg walked in, his suitcase hitting the corner of the bed as he stepped inside.
“Sorry,” Greg whispered, moving to sit in the bunk under Sam’s. The curtains were still drawn, and the room was dark, but the small streaks of light that filtered through suggested a sunny day. Sam rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
She was gone, and people were coming back, and the sun was out, and classes would begin again.
Back to reality it was.
The rest of his roommates arrived throughout the day. After Greg, it was Dev, who slept in the other top bunk. James was the last to return, grinning and immediately regaling them with tales about his trip to Cancun with his brothers.
Sam kept his distance from him as they all made their way to the dining hall for dinner.
The cafeteria, which had been relatively silent all week, now exploded into chatter and reunions with friends. He kept his head down, retreating to the comfortable corner of his mind and staying close to his roommates to avoid the crowd. James was the loudest of the four, emphatically greeting everybody they knew.
Sam almost jumped when he yelled out a familiar name. “Naomi!”
He looked over at a table, where Naomi sat with some friends. She turned to them, but she didn’t meet his eye. Instead, she gave a close-lipped smile at James and waved him over.
Sam followed Greg and Dev to an empty table, keeping his back to Naomi’s table and hoping James wouldn’t bring her over. He didn’t speak to her that day, or the next.
A week of fervent studying went by before he ran into her on his way to class, just as she was entering their dorm building. The ground was covered with black ice, and she dropped a small moleskin journal from her jacket pocket before reaching the door. He picked it up and handed it over to her gloved fingers.
It was a particularly cold day, and she was wrapped head to toe in winter clothing. Past her scarf, he could see the cold flush of her cheeks.
“Always the gentleman,” she said, not quite holding onto his gaze.
“No problem,” he muttered back.
She loitered uncomfortably in the doorway. They hadn’t acknowledged the events of break at all since everybody had returned, and he wondered if maybe this was the moment they finally might. Instead, she disappeared through the door without another word.
It was later that evening that he noticed her across the sea of students in the dining room. He started heading toward her line, but then he noticed who’s arm she was linked with. While James pulled her into him, she looked up and met his eye.
For an instant time slowed. A rush of conversations crossed through his head, followed by the memory of her warm body sharing a bed beside him. He thought of her breath, of her heartbeat, of all the things she’d told him that she swore she hadn’t told anybody else. But then she dropped her gaze, and Sam felt the world stirring around him again. When she finally glanced back up, she gave him a tight-lipped smile, and he knew that was that.
He gave her an indiscriminate nod, lowered his head, and kept walking.
