But none of those things happened. Instead I spoke to the window, feeling strangely alone. “You’re right,” I said. “I should have told you. And I’m sorry about that. And I’m sorry about the way I acted last night, and I’m sorry about being upset that you were late. It’s just that I really wanted to see you as much as I could this trip.”
“You say that like you don’t think I want the same thing.”
I turned around. “To be honest,” I said, “I’m not sure you do.”
With that, I headed for the door.
I was gone until nightfall.
I didn’t know where to go or even why I left, other than that I needed to be alone. I started for campus beneath a sweltering sun and found myself moving from one shade tree to the next. I didn’t check to see if she was following; I knew that she wouldn’t be.
In time, I stopped and bought an ice water at the student center, but even though it was relatively empty and the cool air refreshing, I didn’t stay. I felt the need to sweat, as if to purify myself from the anger and sadness and disappointment I couldn’t shake.
One thing was certain: Savannah had walked in the door ready for an argument. Her answers had come too quickly, and I realized that they seemed less spontaneous than rehearsed, as if her own anger had been simmering most of the day. She’d known exactly how I would be acting, and though I might have deserved her anger based on the way I’d acted last night, the fact that she hadn’t appeared to care about her own culpability or my feelings gnawed at me for most of the afternoon.
Shadows lengthened as the sun began to go down, but I still wasn’t ready to go back. Instead, I bought a couple of slices of pizza and a beer from one of those tiny storefront places that depended on students to survive. I finished eating, walked some more, and finally began the trek back to her apartment. By then it was nearly nine, and the emotional roller coaster I’d been on left me feeling drained. Approaching the street, I noticed Savannah’s car was still in the same spot. I could see a lamp blazing from inside the bedroom. The rest of the apartment was black.
I wondered whether the door would be locked, but the knob turned freely when I tried. The bedroom door was halfway closed, light spilled down the hallway, and I debated whether to approach or stay in the living room. I didn’t want to face her anger, but I took a deep breath and made my way down the short hallway. I poked my head in. She was sitting on the bed in an oversize shirt, one that reached to midthigh. She looked up from a magazine, and I offered a tentative smile.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
I crossed the room and sat on the edge of bed.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “For everything. You were right. I was a jerk last night, and I shouldn’t have embarrassed you in front of your friends. And I shouldn’t have been so angry that you were late. It won’t happen again.”
She surprised me by patting the mattress. “Come here,” she whispered.
I moved up the bed, leaned against the bed frame, and slipped my arm around her. She leaned against me, and I could feel the steady rise and fall of her chest.
“I don’t want to argue anymore,” she said.
“I don’t either.”
When I stroked her arm, she sighed. “Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere, really,” I said. “Just walked the campus. Had some pizza. Did a lot of thinking.”
“About me?”
“About you. About me. About us.”
She nodded. “Me too,” she said. “Are you still mad?”
“No,” I said. “I was, but I’m too tired to be mad anymore.”
“Me too,” she repeated. She lifted her head to face me. “I want to tell you something about what I was thinking while you were gone,” she said. “Can I do that?”
“Of course,” I said.
“I realized that I’m the one who should have been apologizing. About spending so much time with my friends, I mean. I think that’s why I got so mad earlier. I knew what you were trying to say, but I didn’t want to hear it because I knew you were right. Partly, anyway. But your reasoning was wrong.”
I looked at her uncertainly. She went on.
“You think that I made you spend so much time with my friends