over my mouth. I felt bad, making him look domineering, even crazy. He actually hadn’t even called me since he left for Chicago. I needed to quit talking. “He just called to say hi.”
She twisted around to turn off the boiler. She looked back at me, confused. “I don’t understand. You seem upset that he called. You’re upset that he wants you to move in with him?”
I nodded.
“You just said you were happy with him the other night. You went on and on about how happy you were.”
“I did not go on and on.”
“Fine. But your face was like…” She smiled. Her eyes suddenly looked vapid. “And you said you were so happy.” She gave me a quick glance. “And you hate the dorm.”
I sighed. She was the same as him. I was the only one who saw the problem. “Yeah, but what if we break up?” I raised my glass as if making a toast. “I won’t have anyplace to go. I won’t have my job anymore.”
She nodded, pouring the pasta and water through a strainer. Steam rose to her face. “Okay. You’re right.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re right. Don’t move in with him.”
This was not what I wanted her to say. I put my elbows on the counter, my face in my hands. “But I want to,” I said.
She started laughing again. I looked up, annoyed.
“Honestly?” She picked up her drink and took a sip. “I think you can sit here and torment yourself if you want, but I’m going to start looking for a new RA buddy. I bet anything you’re living with him next year. You’re not going to be at summer training. Why are you always so worried? It’s okay. It’s okay to do what you want.”
I shook my head. Her voice was kind, and she was smiling, but I didn’t like what she was saying. That’s okay for somone like you. It’s nice that you could find someone who wants to take care of you. You’re not doing so well in school. I waved my hand in front of my face. I was a little tipsy. I might be a little paranoid.
“It would be one thing if you just wanted out of the dorm. But it’s more than that, right?” She was stirring in the cheese. “You don’t want to just live in his apartment. You want to live with him in his apartment.”
I cleared my throat. I focused on my tingling lips, willing them to form words correctly. “Just because I want to doesn’t mean I will,” I said. “I’m trying not to be an idiot.”
She shrugged.
I leaned back on the bar stool, my arms crossed. I heard what she was not saying. Apparently, I was as predictable as water, sure to seek the easiest route. My phone chimed in my pocket. My mother had left a message—a long one. All this time I’d been talking to Gretchen, my mother had been talking to my phone.
“Let’s have people over,” I said.
She thought I was kidding at first. She only pretended to reach for her phone. She didn’t know me as well as she thought she did. I felt good about that.
I cannot fairly blame the decisions I made for the rest of that evening on alcohol. It is true I was not used to drinking, and that I had little experience with tequila. But I knew this. Before I even brought that first sip to my lips, there must have been something in me that had been shaken loose by the events of that morning, something that yearned for a sudden detour from the steady path I had long ago set for myself. My plan, I think, at least my subconscious plan, was to drink until I was wobbly enough to simply veer into a different direction.
It worked.
I was in an excellent mood when people started arriving. I only vaguely recognized some of them from the dorm, but I welcomed everyone, especially the people I didn’t know at all, their stranger faces fresh slates on which I could impress my new, impulsive self. I ushered them into the living room with sweeping gestures. I thanked them for bringing more alcohol. I forgot all about being shy, and I also forgot about Jimmy, and Haylie, and the fact that we were in their house. I focused on being a good hostess. I nodded appreciatively when someone changed the music on the stereo and turned the volume way, way up. I took coats up