The Multitudes Within Me (Sequel to The Sound of Ice)

18

The next few days, I do nothing but study. Marly texts me, but I ignore her. I ignore Cameron, too, sending him one text: sorry haven't been answering, not feeling well.

I answer the phone only when Ms. Beckett calls, which she has done exactly once in the past few days, to say: "No need to worry, Sam, it's really not a big deal, but Tom has a fever... the doctors aren't worried at all, from what I hear, I just thought I'd keep you updated... and you'll be home soon anyway, only a week away now, we can't wait to see you!"

Pierce notices, a little. "Nightmares?" he asks in the dorm.

"What?"

"You seem out of it."

"Oh, yeah, a little. And the stress of midterms. You know."

"I get that, believe me." And he smiles lighty, tosses a banana peel into the trashcan, adjusts his glasses.

Because there's no way to explain how I'm feeling, or to show him how bad of a person I am - I think of what Eliza said - you deserve to be happy too, Sam - but if life is about what you deserve, then I deserve everything I fear the most.

~

After eating dinner alone in the cafeteria, I head to Eliza's dorm to study.  The sun has set and the sky is a murky grey, the cold bitter and sharp, yellow street lamps illuminating the pathways. A bell tolls in the distance - the university chapel - and I bury my head down against the wind. My backpack weighs down uncomfortably on my shoulders, and I go over equations in my head to the rhythm of my footsteps.

Inside the room, Eliza is curled up on her side, scrolling through her phone. Her bed is unmade and comfortable, the purple comforter messy and inviting. She pats the space beside her, and I flop down on my back.

"Hey," she says, her eyes glued to her phone. Her reading glasses are on, and the blue light illuminates her face. She's wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and she smells of vanilla shampoo, like she showered recently. "We should start studying. You brought your stuff?"

"Yeah."

She puts down her phone and yawns loudly. "I was thinking we could get coffee in a bit. I mean, I kind of doubt we'll be sleeping a lot tonight. The exam is only a couple days away, you know."

"I know."

She nudges me with her foot, wearing her favorite navy elephant socks. "How are you? We haven't really talked since my birthday."

I shift on my side, the bed springs squeaking, burying my face in the crook of my arm. My Harvard sweatshirt smells like laundry detergent. "I'm good."

"You know the cute guy I saw at the gym? I think he's a senior - I saw him there again. Oh my god. And he's so ripped. It's like, I want him to notice me, you know, but also I'm on the treadmill looking dead." She laughs.

"Did you talk to him?"

"No. Maybe I will next time, when I'm less sweaty. He has these green eyes - they're so gorgeous." She squints at me. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you upset?"

I don't know, but it hurts to breathe. "I'm not upset," I say.

Her voice changes and she shifts closer to face me, lying only a foot or so away. "What's wrong? What's going on? You can talk to me."

I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them - Eliza's face is twisted in concern. Down the hall, someone shrieks and laughs loudly, and footsteps run by.

"I kissed Marly," I whisper. It's like hearing someone else say the words.

Eliza sucks in a breath, her eyes flickering around my face. "What?"

"At your birthday."

"Why? But - what about -"

"I know." I ignore the hot tears that threaten to fall - I feel like I am breaking, piece by piece, like a window being smashed in slow motion, shards slicing everyone around me. "I don't know why I did it, Eliza."

"Hey, you're alright. Don't cry, Sam. It's okay."

I turn my head so my words are muffled in my sweatshirt, and I don't have to look at Eliza in the face. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel too much, and then I don't feel anything at all. And I don't know why I like Marly so much. I thought I was gay. I told people I was gay. But I wanted to kiss Marly - and I was drunk, and happy - and I did, and I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Eliza."

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"Because it's sick. And god, it's horrible. Cameron is wonderful. He doesn't deserve me. I think I'm going crazy."

Eliza smiles, softly and sadly. "You're not going crazy. Hey, look at me."

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Sam. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Nothing's wrong with you."

"I'm a liar."

"No, you're not. Sexuality is fluid, Sammy. I promise. Just because you put a label on yourself in the past doesn't mean you're constrained to that now. So, you were attracted to Marly. Who cares?"

I rub my face, embarrassed when tears stain my sweatshirt sleeves. "I cheated on Cameron," I whisper. "He'll never look at me the same."

"It was just one kiss, Sam. And you were drunk."

"That doesn't make it better."

"You made a mistake."

"I always make mistakes."

"Mistakes makes you human."

I don't say anything at all, and instead breathe in deeply - the air conditioning hums quietly, and the wind whistles faintly outside the window. I feel so sad. "Eliza, what am I?"

Eliza smiles and shrugs. "I don't know. You might be bisexual, Sam. But does it matter?"

I think it does. "I don't know."

"Do you love Marly?"

"I don't think so, not like that. But not because she's a girl. She just isn't Cameron."

We listen to the wind for a little bit, and suddenly Eliza pats my shoulder awkwardly. That makes me smile, for a second, and I wipe my eyes again.

Eliza smiles too. "Don't be upset, Sammy. Want to listen to a new song I found?"

I don't answer, so Eliza puts on a song that plays softly from her speaker. It's quiet, and relaxing, and sad, in a way - I don't listen to the lyrics but I know it's about love. And Eliza and I lie in her bed, and I feel so many things I'm not sure if I feel anything at all.

Maybe I am bisexual.

I'm sorry, Cameron. I miss you. And I'm so sorry.

A/N stay with me folks! we gon get through this! what do you think sam should do?