Jill’s waiting by the fountain. Just like she said she would be.
She sees me and smiles. Her hand touches her short blonde hair and I wonder if, under all that armor of cool, she’s just as nervous as I am.
I say hi, try to crack a joke. She says something about my outfit. How she didn’t think I owned clothes like this.
Looking down, I consider my midriff-baring red blouse, black jeans, black studded belt and Cruella heels. It’s all stuff I picked up in thrift stores over the years. I always shop thrift. Usually I purchase my regular conservative clothes. But the sexy blouse was a quarter, jeans were a buck, I think the shoes came as a two-pairs-for-one buy but I’m not sure. I can’t resist a good deal. I told myself at the time that I was assembling a Halloween costume. I would go to a party as Jill.
Only that never happened, along with so many other things. Throwing the clothes on today had been a last-second decision. I had wondered if Jill would get the joke.
She certainly looks amused. Dressed same as ever. Tight white shirt exposing her flat tummy, black hip huggers, black sneakers. But there’s a light in her eyes. She smiles at me, and I forget what I was going to say.
She walks, I follow. I wonder if our local hangout will be jammed with parents and their kids, celebrating today’s graduation. We trot over the quad, where custodians are setting up the folding chairs in precise, orderly rows. Power tools hum as bored burly guys assemble a stage, panel by panel.
The bar is indeed packed but Jill, as usual, finds a way. Soon the two of us have improbably found stools at the bar. I order a vodka martini, something I’ve only had once before. Beer is my go-to, whenever I’m not with Brad, anyway—he disapproves of drinking and who can blame him, I should, too—but right now there’s no time to lose. Jill and I only have a few hours. I need some liquid courage, fast, if I’m going to go through with this.
The martini arrives. I try not to gulp it. Jill sips a Blue Moon, her usual. We discuss moving-out stuff: rental trucks, boxes, dollies. I keep glancing at the clock on the wall. Relax, Jill says. It’s going to be okay. I tell her I know, but deep down I don’t know.
My phone rings. Brad. I answer it and shout over the bar noise that I can’t talk right now. He asks me where I am, and I tell him, but I add that I’m with my parents. He says okay, and that he will see me at graduation. We hang up.
If I had told him I was with Jill, maybe he would have invited himself to join us. Fifty-fifty, I think. Lately he has acted, not hostile exactly, but cold whenever Jill has been around. It’s as if he senses a competitor, another suitor. Or maybe he’s just plain jealous. He knows nothing about The Offer, though, so I guess he just has good intuition.
Way back, when Jill originally asked me to say nothing to Brad about The Offer, I had rolled my eyes. Brad and I at the time had been dating for less than a week. Not telling him about The Offer had seemed like a waste of a good joke.
Jill and I had laughed about The Offer ever since freshman year. It annoyed me that Brad could not share in the mirth. But Jill had made me promise.
Now I’m glad she did. Brad knows nothing about Jill’s sexuality and things are so, so much easier that way. His intolerance in that regard is one of the few things I don’t love about him, and it would break my heart if he came between Jill and me. Jill’s friendship has been the one constant of my up-and-down college journey. I feel close to her in a way that I fear Brad will never understand. But he doesn’t need to understand, and that’s okay.
I order a second martini and down the hatch it goes. Jill cracks that she doesn’t want to have to carry me. I kid that she might have to. It’s like old times, us teasing and laughing. I try not to think about leaving tomorrow…
I’m not thinking about it. And I can tell Jill’s refusing to think about it
She sees me and smiles. Her hand touches her short blonde hair and I wonder if, under all that armor of cool, she’s just as nervous as I am.
I say hi, try to crack a joke. She says something about my outfit. How she didn’t think I owned clothes like this.
Looking down, I consider my midriff-baring red blouse, black jeans, black studded belt and Cruella heels. It’s all stuff I picked up in thrift stores over the years. I always shop thrift. Usually I purchase my regular conservative clothes. But the sexy blouse was a quarter, jeans were a buck, I think the shoes came as a two-pairs-for-one buy but I’m not sure. I can’t resist a good deal. I told myself at the time that I was assembling a Halloween costume. I would go to a party as Jill.
Only that never happened, along with so many other things. Throwing the clothes on today had been a last-second decision. I had wondered if Jill would get the joke.
She certainly looks amused. Dressed same as ever. Tight white shirt exposing her flat tummy, black hip huggers, black sneakers. But there’s a light in her eyes. She smiles at me, and I forget what I was going to say.
She walks, I follow. I wonder if our local hangout will be jammed with parents and their kids, celebrating today’s graduation. We trot over the quad, where custodians are setting up the folding chairs in precise, orderly rows. Power tools hum as bored burly guys assemble a stage, panel by panel.
The bar is indeed packed but Jill, as usual, finds a way. Soon the two of us have improbably found stools at the bar. I order a vodka martini, something I’ve only had once before. Beer is my go-to, whenever I’m not with Brad, anyway—he disapproves of drinking and who can blame him, I should, too—but right now there’s no time to lose. Jill and I only have a few hours. I need some liquid courage, fast, if I’m going to go through with this.
The martini arrives. I try not to gulp it. Jill sips a Blue Moon, her usual. We discuss moving-out stuff: rental trucks, boxes, dollies. I keep glancing at the clock on the wall. Relax, Jill says. It’s going to be okay. I tell her I know, but deep down I don’t know.
My phone rings. Brad. I answer it and shout over the bar noise that I can’t talk right now. He asks me where I am, and I tell him, but I add that I’m with my parents. He says okay, and that he will see me at graduation. We hang up.
If I had told him I was with Jill, maybe he would have invited himself to join us. Fifty-fifty, I think. Lately he has acted, not hostile exactly, but cold whenever Jill has been around. It’s as if he senses a competitor, another suitor. Or maybe he’s just plain jealous. He knows nothing about The Offer, though, so I guess he just has good intuition.
Way back, when Jill originally asked me to say nothing to Brad about The Offer, I had rolled my eyes. Brad and I at the time had been dating for less than a week. Not telling him about The Offer had seemed like a waste of a good joke.
Jill and I had laughed about The Offer ever since freshman year. It annoyed me that Brad could not share in the mirth. But Jill had made me promise.
Now I’m glad she did. Brad knows nothing about Jill’s sexuality and things are so, so much easier that way. His intolerance in that regard is one of the few things I don’t love about him, and it would break my heart if he came between Jill and me. Jill’s friendship has been the one constant of my up-and-down college journey. I feel close to her in a way that I fear Brad will never understand. But he doesn’t need to understand, and that’s okay.
I order a second martini and down the hatch it goes. Jill cracks that she doesn’t want to have to carry me. I kid that she might have to. It’s like old times, us teasing and laughing. I try not to think about leaving tomorrow…
I’m not thinking about it. And I can tell Jill’s refusing to think about it
Similar Books
