shutting it quietly behind her.
I’d like to say that I ran after her and begged her forgiveness—or, at the very least, made sure that my drunk and unhappy girlfriend didn’t walk home by herself across a dark campus late at night.
But I didn’t. Instead, I just sat there staring at Amber.
“I’m sorry,” said Amber, and she did sound genuinely contrite. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”
I just sort of shook my head, unsure of what to say.
There was a long silence, then Amber spoke again. “So I guess that just leaves us.” She leaned back against my pillow, stretched her long, tan legs out on my bed and smiled at me. “What do you think?”
*****
Monica managed to avoid me for the rest of the semester. I could have made more of an effort, of course, but I really didn’t know what to say. She didn’t return my calls. When I did get through to the landline in her room, she had her roommate answer and tell me she was busy: exams, packing, stuff.
When I ran into her on campus, I’d try to strike up a conversation, but it never went well. She was never rude, just distant and distracted, and she’d always think of something she had to go do right at that minute.
I didn’t pursue her. I felt too embarrassed and guilty. It was clear she’d given up on me, and I couldn’t blame her.
She was in France the entire next year. She sent a postcard in response to the handful of short, awkward emails I sent her, but it didn’t say much. I dated a few other girls, but never got serious about anyone. I immersed myself in swimming and studying and became as active as I could in the fraternity—in other words, I kept busy enough that I was able to convince myself that I’d forgotten her.
Senior year I really was busy. I was still swimming and, just as I’d planned, was also president of the fraternity by then. I was interning at a local corporation and applying for jobs, in addition to taking a full load of classes. Monica had come back, but she’d dropped out of her sorority and moved off campus. I ran into her a few times. One of us would always say, “We should really get together sometime,” and the other one would reply, “Yeah, that would be great!”
But neither of us ever made it happen.
These were the days before social media had hit its stride, when you still had to make an effort to stay connected to someone. We didn’t. Spring came, our graduating class scattered to the winds, and I lost touch with her completely.
And that was how it ended.
BOOK TWO
Chapter 1
Jason
It was a bitter January day in Chicago. I stomped the snow off my boots as I walked into the cozy, wood-floored coffee shop and made my way to the counter. I was going to be late to work, but my days there were numbered anyway, and I preferred to start the day with a decent cup of coffee, rather than the crap they had at the office. It was the only indie coffee shop left in the commercial district where I worked. It wasn’t the best service in the world, but I liked to feel that by patronizing it, I was doing my bit for small businesses.
I ordered, and took off my gloves to dig my wallet out from underneath layers of clothing. I rubbed my hands together while the barista collected my change, cursing my luck at ending up in a city as freakin’ cold as Chicago. I was dimly aware of the front doorbells ringing as another customer came in, bringing a brief blast of cold air.
Almost unconsciously, I began thinking of ways the coffee shop could improve its business—reward cards, specials, a friendlier barista. It was almost automatic for me now to assess every business I came in contact with, and think about ways to improve it. This shop had some good things going for it—excellent coffee and a nice atmosphere—but I didn’t like its odds for staying in business for the long haul. I thought about asking the barista for the owner’s contact information, but there was another person in line behind me now,
I’d like to say that I ran after her and begged her forgiveness—or, at the very least, made sure that my drunk and unhappy girlfriend didn’t walk home by herself across a dark campus late at night.
But I didn’t. Instead, I just sat there staring at Amber.
“I’m sorry,” said Amber, and she did sound genuinely contrite. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”
I just sort of shook my head, unsure of what to say.
There was a long silence, then Amber spoke again. “So I guess that just leaves us.” She leaned back against my pillow, stretched her long, tan legs out on my bed and smiled at me. “What do you think?”
*****
Monica managed to avoid me for the rest of the semester. I could have made more of an effort, of course, but I really didn’t know what to say. She didn’t return my calls. When I did get through to the landline in her room, she had her roommate answer and tell me she was busy: exams, packing, stuff.
When I ran into her on campus, I’d try to strike up a conversation, but it never went well. She was never rude, just distant and distracted, and she’d always think of something she had to go do right at that minute.
I didn’t pursue her. I felt too embarrassed and guilty. It was clear she’d given up on me, and I couldn’t blame her.
She was in France the entire next year. She sent a postcard in response to the handful of short, awkward emails I sent her, but it didn’t say much. I dated a few other girls, but never got serious about anyone. I immersed myself in swimming and studying and became as active as I could in the fraternity—in other words, I kept busy enough that I was able to convince myself that I’d forgotten her.
Senior year I really was busy. I was still swimming and, just as I’d planned, was also president of the fraternity by then. I was interning at a local corporation and applying for jobs, in addition to taking a full load of classes. Monica had come back, but she’d dropped out of her sorority and moved off campus. I ran into her a few times. One of us would always say, “We should really get together sometime,” and the other one would reply, “Yeah, that would be great!”
But neither of us ever made it happen.
These were the days before social media had hit its stride, when you still had to make an effort to stay connected to someone. We didn’t. Spring came, our graduating class scattered to the winds, and I lost touch with her completely.
And that was how it ended.
BOOK TWO
Chapter 1
Jason
It was a bitter January day in Chicago. I stomped the snow off my boots as I walked into the cozy, wood-floored coffee shop and made my way to the counter. I was going to be late to work, but my days there were numbered anyway, and I preferred to start the day with a decent cup of coffee, rather than the crap they had at the office. It was the only indie coffee shop left in the commercial district where I worked. It wasn’t the best service in the world, but I liked to feel that by patronizing it, I was doing my bit for small businesses.
I ordered, and took off my gloves to dig my wallet out from underneath layers of clothing. I rubbed my hands together while the barista collected my change, cursing my luck at ending up in a city as freakin’ cold as Chicago. I was dimly aware of the front doorbells ringing as another customer came in, bringing a brief blast of cold air.
Almost unconsciously, I began thinking of ways the coffee shop could improve its business—reward cards, specials, a friendlier barista. It was almost automatic for me now to assess every business I came in contact with, and think about ways to improve it. This shop had some good things going for it—excellent coffee and a nice atmosphere—but I didn’t like its odds for staying in business for the long haul. I thought about asking the barista for the owner’s contact information, but there was another person in line behind me now,
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