his
pillowcase. It made sense. He hadn’t changed his sheets in a couple of
weeks. He wondered if Julia had smelled it, if she’d known that’s what
Gretchen smelled like. If that’s why Dave had thought he’d seen a flash
of sadness pass through her eyes.
Before he fell asleep, Dave wondered why it wasn’t just Julia in his
head. Why he couldn’t think of what to respond to her. Why that one
line from Gretchen’s e-mail was imbued in his thoughts. Your heart is an asshole for choosing someone else.
256 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES
ENERGY
JULIA AND DAVE sat in the gym, watching kids play basketball.
The tree house had silently been given up, no longer their lunch spot.
No one had really said anything to keep them away, but Julia couldn’t
stand the way Gretchen’s friends looked at her, as if Julia herself had
set out to break Gretchen’s heart.
“Any news from your mom? End of the year’s getting close.” Dave
dipped a celery stick in hummus, the crunch loud despite the sound of
sneakers squeaking on the hardwood.
“Not yet. I think she’s waiting on ticket prices to go down,” Julia
said, though her mom had not told her anything close to that. She
actually hadn’t heard from her mom in a couple of weeks. But she
was trying not to read anything into that. “Basketball would be more
exciting with some rule changes,” Julia said. “Like, multiple balls and
secret tunnels that lead to bonus points.”
“So, basically you want basketball to be more like pinball.”
“That’d be perfect.”
Another crunch from Dave’s celery stick. Julia bit into her chicken
salad sandwich. “You think she’s actually gonna come?”
Julia chewed slowly, watching the kids run up and down the court,
sweat clinging to their T-shirts. “Shit, Dave, I don’t know. I hope so.”
The days had started to feel much longer. Julia found herself
yearning for the final bell to release her and Dave into their own little world. The time they spent together at school felt somehow lesser, as
if now that they’d become a couple it was not acceptable for them to
act like they had before. She constantly caught herself wondering how
close to sit next to him, where to put her hands, how long to keep eye
contact.
“Me too. Sorry.”
Julia took another bite from her sandwich. She leaned her head on
Dave’s shoulder, chewing lethargically. “Is school over yet?”
“Like, for the day? Is your stroke coming back? It’s only lunch.”
“For the year, you goof. This week’s been brutal. I catch myself
gazing out the window for what feels like hours, only to find out that
it’s been two minutes and the class I’m in doesn’t actually have any
windows. One of those violinists in my Euro history class has ADD
so bad, I can’t pay attention.”
Immediately after she said it, Julia realized that the violinist she’d
referred to had been there the night of the promposal. Julia had invoked Gretchen’s presence, and she could feel it in Dave’s silence. The sound
of the basketball dribbling up and down the court reverberated, an
amateur bass line, rhythmless.
Julia straightened out, finished her sandwich, narrowly avoiding a
glob of chicken salad that plopped onto the space between her and
Dave. He kept crunching on celery sticks. “How’s your day been?”
Julia hated the question. It had always felt to her like a question
258 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES
asked between people with nothing else to say. Her mom had once
written to her that if she ever started her conversations with How was your day? to reexamine her choices in life. Like she always did with her mom’s nuggets of wisdom, Julia thought back, trying to remember the
exact details of when or how it had been delivered. Probably when she
was sixteen, when her dads had started begging her to make it through
her teenage years without getting pregnant. It’d been a postcard from
Costa Rica, the one depicting a green volcano, the handwriting on the
back carelessly sprawling, so that only a couple of sentences fit. She’d always wished her mom could fit more on each postcard.
“How about your day?” Dave said, popping the lid back on the
Tupperware of hummus. Julia hadn’t heard a word of his response.
“Enthralling, of course,” she said. “You ever wonder why asking
‘how’s your day been?’ seems so . . . desperate? I didn’t mean it that way when I just asked it now. But, I mean, what a boring question, right?”
Dave shrugged. “I don’t see anything wrong with it. I care about
how your day’s been.”
“Yeah, but there are more interesting ways to ask.”
“Such as?”
Julia paused, suddenly defensive. “I don’t know. You could ask
specific questions that’ll give you a better feel for the other person’s day. It’s like asking strangers how they are