Chapter 7: Talking To Lucy

I throw a pair of shorts and a t-shirt on Amy's bed, freshly changed.

She sends me a confused expression.

"Let's erase this night. First step, getting out of those tainted clothes." I tell her firmly.

She sighs but sits up anyways.

The room stays silent as she changes.

When she's finished, I plop onto her bed beside her. She hugs her knees to her chest and leans back against the wall.

"Second," I say, this time softer, "Why don't you tell me what you're really upset about?"

She shakes her head, denying. "I already said-"

"I heard what you said, but did it match your facial expression? Not a chance. It's Ralph, isn't it?"

Another sigh.

She closes her eyes and bites her lip self consciously.

"I can't help but be upset about him. I've hid how I feel for a long time now, and this is why. I mean, I almost get taken advantage of and he still goes to find that girl he was hinting at all night. I really thought I meant something to him, but now, now all I think is he's just like the other guys I met."

A tear trickles down her pale cheek and she furiously wipes it away. "Why should I be crying for a guy who obviously doesn't care?"

I scoot toward her and wrap a comforting arm around her.

"Wanna know what I think?" I ask, gauging her reaction.

She only nods.

"I think he has feelings for you," Her head snaps to the side to look at me. Her mouth remains downturned but I notice the flicker of hope in her hazel orbs.

"But-"

"Hear me out. I honestly think he does. The way he looks at you, the way he acts around you...anybody can tell. He's into you."

"But-"

"And the way he held you tonight," I interrupt her once more. "Was more then just comforting a friend. He wouldn't let go of you, his grip was so tight. I know you noticed it too."

She opens her mouth to respond.

"And whoever this girl is," I continue, not allowing her a chance to speak. "Is probably some nobody that he's using to forget about you. Trust me, I see the care in his eyes when he looks at you."

"Yeah, cause he sees me as a sister, someone to always protect." She argues, refusing to believe in the thought.

I shake my head, smiling. "No, that isn't the kind he gives you. That is the kind Cole gives you, the one he gave you before he left here tonight. Those don't relate in anyway to how Ralph looks at you."

"Plus," I add, "Did you see the way he reacted to your truth earlier tonight? His face and whole domeaner tightened at your response. Doesn't that seem like..." I trail off, smiling at her as I watch her piece the events together in her mind.

"Jealousy."

"Exactly."

"What if you're wrong though? What if he really doesn't have feelings for me? What if those looks weren't what you thought? And this girl he's fucking tonight is not just a way to forget-"

"Don't think that way," I interrupt her, giving a stern look. "If you think like that then you're going to drive yourself up a wall. Trust me on this. If I were you, I'd talk to him. Tell him how you feel."

"Easier said than done."

"I know it is."

Do I though? I have very little experience, and the only kind I have, well, I prefer not to think about. In fact, I block it out most days because I hate how it ended, hate how I acted and how those actions served consequences that I wasn't ready to endure. My spine pricks with the nostalgia of how I almost ended up, and what could have potentially been my life as a result of it.

"Talk to him," I repeat, my emotions clogging my throat.

I force them down and swallow hard, as if I'm trying to digest a huge pill that's suppose to dissolve my problems.

Without warning Amy leans over and clutches onto me tightly. She squeezes my sides and instinctively, I hug her back. My arms comfort in the way I hope my words did, but they make up for the effect I might have missed in them.

Just over the past few days, I can tell those two are into each other, beyond interested. I can tell that both of them aren't in any hurry to tell the other how they feel. Ralph might be better at hiding it, but I caught those not so subtle slip ups that passed over his face every time he looked at her. I only hope that Amy takes my advice and talks to him. Maybe an effort from her will push him to admit how he feels, too.

I just hope that I am right, and not terribly wrong like I've been in judging how other people perceive things.

...

I desperately want to stay asleep on Monday morning, when my alarm blares throughout the small space of my dorm, and Nothing More screams into my eardrums, but I have a class at nine.

I sit up, groggy and disoriented. I rub my eyes, yawning with fatigue. My eyes scan the dim room that isn't fully illuminated as the curtain blocks most of it. I take notice of Amy's sleeping body parallel to mine on my bed and roll my eyes.

Lucky bitch, I think and reluctantly roll off of my bed.

I land on the floor with a small thump and groan out an 'oomph'.

I lay there for a few beats, my eyes threatening to close to let my functionless brain fall back into a tranquil sleep, full of solitude and peaceful nothings.

Unenthusiastically, I push myself up by my elbows and assist myself up, into the bathroom.

I complete the usual morning routine that associates me with a planned day. I hop out of the shower relatively quickly, brush my teeth, and apply a few strokes of mascara on my lashes, letting my hair down freely.

Pursing my lips in front of the closet, I decide on an outfit and pull out a gray off the shoulder top paired with high waisted coral cutoff shorts.

I'm slipping on a pair of black converse when my alarm to leave goes off. I roll my eyes, grab my satchel and flick the dismiss button on my alarm clock.

The sun rays attack my eyes as soon as I exit the dorm building. I put my hand over my eyes instinctively.

The parking lot is full of other students heading to their classes for today, chatting happily amongst themselves.

I have no idea how these people are morning person's.

Maybe they're excited to be doing their own thing, on their own time, by their own choice.

I find myself wondering if they are truly here because they want to be here, or if they have controlling parents that decided for them, despite the eighteen years of age factor. I wonder if they paid for their own cars, or if those were a gift, or if they are paying out of pocket for the materialistic things like books or meal cards.

As I realize I'm staring mindlessly at these cheerful passerbys, I shake my head and unlock my car.

I remember from my tour with Riley that the first class I'm scheduled for today is on the west side of the campus, Building B.

I arrive at the class relatively early. Most seats are vacant, only a few people occupy some of the spots.

I place my bag in an empty one towards the middle row. The class isn't suppose to start for another twenty minutes so I decide to grab a coffee before the class starts. I spotted the café the group and I went to on Friday on the way here.

It did not seem far from here so I walk to save gas.

When I enter under the familiar neon sign, I'm greeted with the same scents that hit me before.

I order a coffee and a muffin to go from the barista, and begin the walk back, stuffing the change in my bag.

Lucky for me the seat I picked before is still open when I return to the class. The room is much fuller now, and I have to mutter more than a few 'excuse me's' to get back to my spot.

"Excuse me," I say for the millionth time, smile, and finally sit down.

I dig into my bag and get out a pen and notebook, setting it up in front of me. Looking around, I notice other students setting up laptops and recorders.

I frown slightly at my misfortune but square my shoulders and sit up straighter, refusing to be deferred by the discovery. I should get a job and save for one. I need my savings for tuition and food purposes only.

I make a mental note to start looking this week for openings in places. A small serving job couldn't hurt.

A throat clears beside me and I turn my head toward the owner of the sound. Riley smiles into my face and my mood immediately brightens.

"Hey!" I exclaim, grinning. "I didn't know you had this class."

He nods, his smile contagious. "Yeah, I didn't know you were qualified to take Advanced Microbiology?" He smirks, clicking his tongue on the top of his mouth with a curious look in his eyes.

I shrug, silently congratulating myself for the achievement. "I took an AP biology class in high school that gave me the credit I needed to take this one." I inform him, not bothering to keep the pride out of my tone.

"Look at you, smarty, over-achieving." He jokes, nudging my shoulder.

I giggle and shrug as if to say 'eh, it was nothing'.

We chat for a few minutes until the professor comes rushing in and begins his first lesson.

It's a relatively short class.

The professor goes over his syllabus for the semester and briefly covers the topics we'll be discussing within the next two weeks.

This class is scheduled on Monday's and Wednesday's from nine to eleven. I'll hate waking up early, but it's a risk everyone has to take in life. At least I'm not waking up at six a.m. for school anymore. Seven forty five is a solid improvement.

Riley and I joke back and forth down the hallway of Building B until we're in the parking lot that has the sun glaring down on it still.

The blistering rays hadn't lightened from earlier, if anything they intensified.

"So listen," Riley says, standing at my open car door, his hand grasping the frame as he casually leans into it. "I don't know if you're much into sports but there's a game on this weekend. Sunday. Aaron and I usually invite a few friends and cook game-day style foods. You're more than welcome to come if you want."

"Game-day style? As in finger food?" I ask.

He nods, "That'd be the kind."

I can't help but chuckle. "You're gay and you like sports?" I inquire, wrapping my mind around the prospect. "Aren't you guys suppose to be like, I don't know...more feminine than manly?" I laugh at the disbelief displayed on his face.

"That is so stereotypical! For your information there are more gay athletes than you think. And just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'm not aloud to be interested in sports." He pretends to be offended as he crosses his arms and pouts at me, frowning.

I laugh and he glares at me.

I can't seem to help it, I laugh harder, holding my hands up. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. That wasn't polite to say."

"It was rude!"

"I apologized!"

"Fine, I'll be nice and accept it." He points at me immaturely, like a little six year old taddling, "This time."

I chortle, rolling my eyes. "Thanks. You're so kind."

He rolls his eyes as well. "So, do you want to come or what?"

I shrug, "I'll have to check my plans and get back to you."

"As if you could've made that many plans already." Riley humors, reaching out his hand.

"What?"

"Give me your phone." He instructs, trying and failing to convey a serious tone.

"For what?"

"So I can give you my address," He states as if it's obvious.

"Why not just text it to me?"

He rubs his chin, pretending to be in thought.

"That makes more sense."

"You think?" I giggle.

He shakes his head, laughing. "Alright I better go. I'm meeting Aaron for brunch."

"Go on. We should hang out later this week. Like lunch or something. Maybe next time I'll try that chocolate croissant you recommended." I flash him a smile and wave as he begins walking away.

"Totally. See you around hot stuff."

I laugh for the millionth time and shut my car door.

...

When I get to my dorm, it's empty.

I sit on my bed and ponder over what I talked to Amy about last night.

I wonder if she'll take my advice and talk to Ralph. I really hope she does, I have a feeling that everything will work out if she does.

It's getting later in the afternoon, and I have no more plans for the day. My last class ended a while ago, and after driving around campus for a while, getting familiar with the area, I decided to come home.

Thinking of my past home, I get out my phone and scroll my thumb over my father's contact.

I thought more about having Lucy check on him, and while I want her to do that, I figure actually talking to him myself will benefit things as well.

I've been feeling guilty for leaving him without a proper goodbye, and while I don't think he would've really cared, I know it would've been the right thing to do.

I press his contact and bring the phone to my ear.

It rings out completely before going to his uncompleted voicemail.

"The person you are trying to reach has a voicemail that has not been set up yet-"

I hung up after my third try.

Scrolling to a different contact, I bring the phone to my ear once more.

She picks up on the second ring.

"I was wondering when you were gonna call,"

A smile automatically etches onto my features.

"Hey, Lucy... I know I haven't, I've just been settling in and getting familiar with the new setting."

I can feel her smile from the other side of the line.

"No hard feelings. It's great that you're adjusting well. What's up?"

I sigh, "Things are going good, my roommate is really cool, though her brother is kind of an ass," My mind drifts to Cole and his hot and cold attitude. One moment he's laughing at me, and the next he's insulting me. I notice that a small grin has spread on my face and immediately wipe it away.

"I detect annoyance. Is he hot?" Lucy asks.

I roll my eyes. "Very. But he's so hot and cold. "

I end up telling her about our small interactions. including our sexy dance on Saturday.

"Ooh. I ship already. Sounds like a bad-boy who needs an attitude change, from a sexy badass such as yourself."

"I don't know about that, but I'll keep you posted."

We chat for a few more minutes before I decide to bring up what I actually wanted to talk to her about.

"Hey Luc?" I ask, after she's finished talking about her own list of new events.

"Hmm?" She hums, most likely still day dreaming about the new guy she just told me about. A man she met while shopping for tampons at the old local superstore in Cascade.

"I have a favor to ask..." I begin, biting my lip, already feeling my emotions begin boiling.

I already know she'll do it, I just hate choking up when asking. I act more strong than I truly am, and she knows that.

"When you get the chance can you drive by my house and check on my dad? I just want to make sure that he's okay. I know it's out of your way but-"

"Amara," She interrupts my tirade. "Of course I'll do it. I'll make sure he's okay and knows that you are too."

I blow out a long respiration filled with relief.

"I tried calling him but he didn't answer. Probably passed out by this hour, but it was worth a shot." I tell her.

"I wish we could help him, but you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped, Amara."

I know this. When I was still growing up that's what I told myself, after I finally got the message that he wasn't going to change, and I finally realized that I wasn't going to be able to be the one to change him myself. Not for the lack of trying, though, but for the lack of pushing too hard when it was a lost cause to begin with.

I swallow the oncoming set of emotions that threaten to burst through the dam I've built up these last few months of preparing myself. I didn't understand how hard this was going to be. It is one thing to say to forget, but it's another thing to actually do it. To be able to. To force yourself to.

I clear my throat and swallow down the spit along with the emotions.

"I know, girl. I love you, Lucy. Thank you so much."

The shake in my voice is evident.

I curse myself silently. I hate feeling this way.

If losing my parents taught me one thing, it was that I hated to feel weak and breakable.

My father and I weren't good enough so my mom left.

I wasn't good enough so my father shut me out.

These were facts, not reasons to feel sorry for myself.

I turned to marijuana to cope with that notion.

I turned to work to cope with that notion.

I turned away from my mother's letter to cope with that notion.

If she left, than I have nothing else to consider about her. Nothing else to learn. Nothing else to indulge in.

Lucy and I sign off after a while. She told me that she'll make a surprise visit sometime this week, and I vehemently agreed. Talking about it had gotten me into a black mood, and I was far past over it.

I lay staring at my ceiling for a long time afterward. I don't move for a long time, just blinking and breathing.

Maybe I'm being dramatic, but I cannot help the way I feel.

It's ironic how I dealt with this when I was right in the face of it- or more so ignored it and distracted myself-, but now that I'm away from it all, my mind keeps drifting and obsessing about it even more.

I'm worried about my father, but I'm also angry with him. I don't hate him, never could-even if I wanted to-, but I often wish that he was different. Or at least that he was better.

I need to be distracted again, be distracted more.

As the door to my dorm opens, and five people walk in, I conclude to myself that I will find that distraction, no matter what it takes. I'll find the middle ground that gives me the peace of mind that I need to stop all this worrying bullshit.

And all these damn emotions.

These feelings.