I hadn't realized until we got back that she was drunk. I parked the car in front of her residence hall and we both stayed sitting in the car. There was a group of people smoking and ranting, intoxicated with the spring night. She turned her face to look at me. I could see none of her in the expression she conveyed. Next to me, a stranger sat. She leaned in and kissed me. This stranger that I had once met three years ago, two years ago, last month in bed, kissed me like she had known me forever. She kissed me with intent and I kissed her back.
I could suddenly feel something wet on my face; I tasted salt on my lips. And before I could lick my lips she opened her door and walked away. A few guys tried to stop her and say hello and a mutual classmate, from what I could make out, and asked if she was okay. She was gone before anyone could realize what happened. I didn't know what to do. Should I follow her?
Should I tell her I understand? I don't. I had no idea what she was going through. I was caught in a situation where I felt hopeless, not for me but for her. So I went back to my room and I drank. Maybe if I drank as much as she had then I could somehow understand a bit more. Isn't that how you empathize?
By the end of the night I had learned two things: I would never understand what had happened and I would never have to experience what she went through. In this way I felt alone and pathetic. At four in the morning I became even more pathetic; a knock came at my door.
"What the fuck are you playing at?" It was her and in her hand she held an envelope, my envelope. "Is this your way of being a good person? You think this changes anything now that you've paid your dues? Well fuck you."
"I thought it was the right thing to do—"
"Fuck you."
"Now you can pay off Tamil. I put in some extra for you. I didn't know what I could do. I'm not trying to insult you, I just wanted to help you."
"Help me? I'm not broken and this money isn't going to fix anything."
"What am I supposed to do? Tell me, what am I supposed to do?" I yelled and threw my arms in the air as I way to say that I gave up, gave in, and surrendered.
"Nothing! I don't want you to do anything. If I wanted your help I would have told you before I got it taken care of. But I didn't. I only told you because I thought you should know, not because I thought you owed me anything!"
"But you should have told me!"
"How could I have told you? I hate you Joe." As she said this I felt whatever we once had flee out the window. She had always called me Joey, it was her way of showing affection, and now that was gone. There was no affection left in her for me.
"What?"
"I hate you. I hate you for what happened. I hate you for how you reacted. I hate you for the sex. I hate you for not being there with me. I hate you because our friendship is now fucked. Everything we had is fucked. And most of all, I hate you for not seeing how much I loved you."
She was crying now. I reached over to her and embraced her.
"I never knew...I never—"
"NO! I hate you. I hate you—" she beat on my chest and punched with every tear that rolled down her cheek. I stood there and took it because what else could I do? What else was I supposed to do? I was angry. I was angry with myself, I was angry for her. I deserved every punch, kick, slap, and every attempt she made to get out of my arms. Maybe in this way I could know how it felt when they sucked the fetus out of her. After all was said and done, I didn't feel a thing.
The rest of the night was quiet. At some point, while we lay on the floor, she rolled over and murmured something. It was the only thing she said for the rest of the night or at least it's the only thing I can remember when I look back at that night and that floor.
"The whole time I laid there, on the table, I wondered about the sex," she whispered. "I wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl. Even now I stay up and wonder what it could have been. But I know that it could have never been, the question still lingers in my bones now and then."
The next day she was gone. I got up, got dressed, and went outside. I saw her later that day, laughing with some friends in the courtyard, and when I walked past she smiled at me and waved. She smiled at me. As if nothing had happened. She went on with her life as if nothing had happened, and to this day I will never understand why.
