Someone to Love(66)

Blair gives a friendly wave, and I head on over.

“Saw you this morning in the coffee shop,” I say, dropping my book bag, and a myriad of loose papers vomit out. Gah! Just the thought of bending over and dealing with it sets my nether regions on fire. Blair starts to scoop things up for me. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it in a second.”

The two newest victims to be inaugurated in Webber’s exclusive nudist for hire ring strut out of the makeshift closet, clutching at the signature purple robes, and oh my God, they’re ancient! A series of low-lying gasps erupt once they drop trou, sort of like it did with Cruise, but well, for entirely different reasons. Honest to God, there’s a crypt keeper out there somewhere who is not doing his freaking job.

Their bodies are a strange hue of grey, and they have more folds of skin than a litter of Shar-Pei puppies. Their limbs have odd bruising on them, and their gnarled fingers are nothing but skin over bone, green and purple with blooms of yellow interspersed. It’s safe to say they’ve taken decomposing and turned it into a performance piece.

“So what did you say you were studying again?” Blair scoots her bench into mine with a reserved sense of calm, as if we didn’t just bear witness to a double reanimation. I totally envision two empty caskets with the words “flight risk” slapped across the front. “I set out your papers for you.” She points up at my easel.

“Thanks.” Blair is such a nice person. I can totally see her hanging out with Lauren, Ally, and me. I can’t believe how fantastic everything is in my life now. “I’m studying boys,” I whisper. “One boy in particular.”

“Oh?” Her dark eyes round out. “It’s not Mr. Glad to See You, is it?” She gives a knowing laugh. “That was wild, by the way.”

“That would be him—and, believe me, he’s very, very wild.” My body experiences a private summer as a Cruise inspired heat wave takes over. “Especially in bed,” I whisper that last part so low it’s almost inaudible.

“I thought you said you were a virgin?” She snaps it out as if I misrepresented my citizenship in the land of Not-So-Wholesome Milk and Money, A.K.A Garrison. “I mean, you implied it. It’s a big virtue, so I thought it was pretty cool and stuff.”

“Well, I was.” I pinch a quick smile. “But I’m not anymore. He’s a god, so how could I resist. You did see him, right?” It comes out more fact, less question.

“Oh, it was ‘hard’ to miss.” She glances down and sweeps the floor with a look of irritation. “I tried to save it once, and it all went haywire.”

“I’m sorry.” I touch my chest appalled by the fact I’m inadvertently rubbing my perfect boyfriend in her face when it’s obvious she’s coming off some big emotional breakup. “I’m sure your Mr. Right will walk through the door any day now.”

She glances up and her eyes widen; a villainous smile twitches on her lips. “So he will.”

I follow her gaze and spot Cruise sharing a few brief words with Professor Webber. He looks visibly rattled as he speeds in my direction.

I bolt to his side, still out of breath from our erotic “in class” encounter.

“What’s going on?”

“My sister called.” His face reduces to an ashen shade. “She says there’s some kind of emergency back at the house. I need to take off.”

“I’ll come with,” I say, happy to abandon an entire hour of geriatric studies.

I snatch up my book bag and run out the door with him.





The snow molds over the hills, smooth and sweet, like a Valentine. The world is lost in the blue and purple hues of late afternoon but the closer we get to home, there’s a caustic, amber glow that casts blinking shadows over the horizon and my heart seizes. Everything was going so well and now there’s danger. A siren goes off in the distance as it screams its way over. It’s almost as if the cruel world were whispering that this fairytale I had embroiled myself in is too good to be true. And deep down inside, I sensed this all along. I can see the handwriting on the proverbial wall—in the snow banks as they clap in reds and blues, even the wind blows a little harder here as the evergreens scold me with their needle-like protrusions. They all say the same thing. Tragedies occur, even here. This place wasn’t special—neither was I.

Face it, Cruise and I probably stand as much of a chance as my mother and her revolving door relationships.

When we finally arrive at the Elton Bed and Breakfast, we’re horrified to find a small army of paramedics and fireman have overrun the property.