Vinny chuckled as he watched me. “Nick, just out of curiosity, where do you go other than class and here?”
I shrugged. “I got two jobs now and six hours of classes per day. WhatcanI do?”
Vinny wrapped a scarf around his own head, pushing his afro down. “There’s a coed dance next month. You might as well come,” he said, giving the invitation like a peace offering.
“What’s coed?”
He tucked into bed. “It means West Egg boys and East Egg girls all come together for a night of fun, hoping to get lucky bythe end of the night. Best not to show up by yourself. You need a date.”
“Okay, so how do I find one?”
“Learn a line. Find a girl you like, strike up a conversation, and then make it seem like you don’t even need her.” Vinny smiled proudly to himself as if he were the king of pitching woo. “I guarantee it’ll make her come to you.”
He clicked off his lights and the room plunged into darkness.
I tossed and turned with anxiety through the night. Could I make a girl come to me? Icouldafford to work out more. If my frame filled out my clothes, I’d have more opportunities with girls. But how to join a gym?
I still didn’t know if I was cut out for the concept of a coed dance. I respected Vinny’s challenge for me to put myself out there more, but what the hell was aline?
On Sunday morning, I practiced mylinesin the bathroom mirror.
“Hey, you look cute in that dress, li’l mama,” I crooned to my reflection, and my reflection stared back with embarrassment. “That was horrible.” I let out a sigh—my effort felt so forced I embarrassed myself in my own company.
In the shower, I decided that pickup lines were not my forte, as they all felt unlike anything I would naturally say. After getting dressed, I found a piece of paper sticking out of the pants I’d left on the floor. A letter?
It read:
Dear Nick,
I hope you won’t mind that I prefer to communicate in writing. I don’t mingle often as I only have a few hours of class per day. I am part-time at West Egg and studying the liberal arts.
I just wanted to say I hope the school is working out for you on your side of things. And to apologize on behalf of my housemates. I’ve known Charlie and Cannon forever, but I wouldn’t call them devoted friends. They still invite me to parties, but I don’t have much use for their silly games.
It feels like I’m hanging on to my old friends while craving new ones. I notice you’re alone a lot too. Forgive me if my approach is too direct.
Yours,
Jay
My skin tingled after reading the signature. I think it was from the feeling of being noticed. It made me both furrow my brows with confusion and smile as questions passed through my mind.
Why had Jay written this to me? When did he deliver it, and how did I miss it?
I didn’t know.
I only knew I didn’t mind it.
6.
Dear Jay,
Your approach is not too direct, and no need to apologize for those guys, even if you were friends with them.
I’m studying elevator operation here. It’s not what I was hoping for, but I’ve learned to make do wherever I am. My parents are both gone, so I don’t have much guidance.
I haven’t found many friends yet myself, but I get along okay with my roommate. I know the feeling of not being too secure with your friends. I try to see the best in everyone, just to get along.
Thanks for writing to me.
