I wish that Stuart didn’t have to leave on such a beautiful day. The sky was practically purple out, and the rain came down in big diamond drops.
“I kept picturing you leaving with a fat stack of papers under your arm,” I told him as we stood under my umbrella at the Dartmouth Coach stop in town. He had his windbreaker hood up, and his eyelashes sparkled with moisture.
“You’ve got a very romantic view of writers,” he said.
“I can’t help it,” I said, and lifted my chin to kiss him.
He only touched me lightly on the lips. “Are you sad?” I asked.
“I am sad,” he said, and swallowed. “I don’t like to leave you for so long.” He would be back in a few days. He was meeting with his agent and his publisher, staying in his parents’ apartment.
“I’ll be fine,” I told him.
“I know. I’m also…” he began, and sighed. “I’m nervous to meet with these people.”
“But they love you!”
“No, they don’t,” he said, and looked away.
“Hey,” I said, and took his hand. I made my grip strong. “Are you okay?”
“No,” he said.
“No?”
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Stuart forced out a smile.
“Okay,” I said. “I know this month hasn’t been easy. It can’t be easy, like when I kind of lost it in front of you.” I forced myself to make eye contact. “I know it must be weird.”
“It’s not about you,” Stuart said.
I blurted, “Then what is it about?” and hoped it wasn’t as biting as the truth behind it.
“What do you mean?”
I said slowly, “We spend all our time together. I can’t help thinking that if you’re agitated, it might at least be in part to how much stress my… situation has caused you.”
“No, no…” he began. Always, no, no.
“Yeah, but if you need to, you know, take some space, I understand.”
“Sammie,” he said, stern. He repeated, “It’s not about you,” and the sharpness in his voice took me by surprise.
“Well,” I said. “I was trying—”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.
“I don’t like to be interrupted,” I said. I took a deep breath. “I was trying to find out. But I’m glad I can eliminate our situation as a possibility.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice softer. “It’s just going to be a big reality check. Parents and agent and everyone all in one week.” He lifted his hand to my cheek.
I took his hand and kissed it. “Have a milk shake for me,” I said.
“I will,” he said, and we kissed.
“Tell everyone at NYU I won’t be able to make it.”
“Oh, Sammie.”
“I’m sure they’ll be heartbroken. All the people I’ve invented over the four years I’ve pretended to live there.” My voice cracked. It appeared my brain was cracking, too. Insane to think that if I got on the bus, in eight hours I could be there with him, with everything I’d wanted. What if I just got a job waiting tables? What if I just showed up?
“Hey,” he said gently. “We should go sometime.”
“But not now,” I said, watching the second-to-last passenger board, a college student going home after summer school had ended.
“Soon,” he said, and stepped onto the bus without me.