“No. But I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”
Of course, I’ve never liked the way any guys have looked at her.
Chapter Six
Beth
Present Day
David’s copy of Hamlet, it turns out, has been infinitely more helpful than I ever could have imagined. David knew this of course, since it turns out he took the same class his freshman year. Hamlet is the first of three plays we’ll study in depth this semester, aside from King Lear and Macbeth, and after Professor London’s first lecture on Act I, I start to suspect that David would do a better job teaching the course himself.
I finish my hours at the student health center and stop in to see Professor Bowman. I’ll see her in an hour in Abnormal Psych, but I have a few ideas I wanted to discuss with her.
“Hi Beth. How are things?” she asks.
I smile. “Good. I like my classes. Well, most of them. I like yours, anyway,” I amend.
Professor Bowman chuckles lightly. “That’s good to hear, I suppose. And how has volunteering been? I know it can be daunting sometimes.”
It can. I volunteer at the help line, answering random anonymous calls, talking to strangers about their problems, never admitting the irony of them getting advice from a girl who has no answers for herself. “It’s been okay. But I was just thinking…a lot of the people who call—or more, the people who don’t call even though they might need to talk to someone…they might not really feel comfortable talking, you know, to strangers. Like, a lot of people who suffer from depression, or other issues, are more introverted, you know?”
Bowman offers me a sympathetic smile, exhaling a long-winded sigh. “You’re absolutely right, Beth. Of course, it’s the catch-22 of the program, isn’t it? That those who need help the most are the least likely to reach out for it.” Her eyes swim with empathy and I suspect she’s good enough at her profession to know my thoughts come from experience.
“So, I was thinking. What if they didn’t have to call at all?”
“I’m listening…”
“What if they could text a number? Either to say what they’re upset or worried about, or even just the word ‘help,’ or that they want to talk. What if they could just text a number and say ‘hi’? Just starting a conversation, having someone to talk to with complete anonymity, it could go a really long way.” I think of the night I tried to kill myself. I think of the one thing that made me hesitate. The texts from David urging me to go out, offering to pick me up. The ones that, with just a few words, reminded me that there were people out there who cared.
It wasn’t enough to save me. Only fate did that when my brother happened to come home early. But it could save someone else.
Bowman rubs her chin contemplatively. “Beth, that is very smart. Frankly, I’m a bit ashamed I haven’t considered it before. I’m going to look into the logistics of something like that tonight. There must be software available to facilitate it.”
My cheeks color themselves pink, and I grin proudly. I thank her for listening to my idea, and head out to the student union to get lunch before Abnormal Psych.
A wave of unease settles over me as I walk through the rotunda. It’s been following me around ever since Brian showed up at the Beta party. Now I understand why David didn’t want me knowing he’s here. But so far, mercifully, I haven’t run into him.
There’s still that small piece of me that wonders if Brian ever worries about us crossing paths. But deep down, I know he probably doesn’t much care, either way. I’m just an ex he dated for less than a year, back in high school, after all.
I meet Lani and chat over subpar pizza, my eyes anxiously scanning the dining hall every few minutes. She notices, and offers a sympathetic smile.
“Total dick move, huh? Your ex, I mean.”
I frown at her. “What do you mean?”
Lani’s eyes roll with impatience. “Uh, showing up at your college? Trying to reinsert himself into your world just when you’re starting to build your own life.”
“Well, he’s not really reinserting himself into my life. He’s not here for me. It doesn’t surprise me that he’d transfer for a spot on a Division One soccer team like RRU’s. It’s just a shitty coincidence, that’s all.”
Lani stares at me like I’m missing something. “Do you really believe that?”
I blink at her for a beat. “Well, yeah. Look, Lan, it’s a romantic thought. A guy transferring schools to win back his ex. But that’s just not Brian, okay? I mean, he was sweet, for a time. But then he cast me aside like an old-model iPhone after a new release. He didn’t have regrets. He didn’t ever talk to me again, actually. So the idea that he moved across three states, left all his friends, to do his senior year at another school for me—it’s just a fantasy, okay? And not even my fantasy.”
It’s true. It’s been a long time since I pined over Brian. I won’t pretend he doesn’t still cross my mind now and again—that I don’t wonder why it was so easy for him to just discard me so suddenly and completely. How he could have just sat there and watched his phone announce incoming text after text, never compelled to reply, or even acknowledge that I continued to exist.
My family kept my suicide attempt close to the vest—something I’ve always appreciated—but there’s yet another piece of me that has always wondered what Brian would have done had he known. If he would have shown up at the hospital, or just continued on with his life—like my father did, at the time.
What would Brian have done if he’d known that taking those pills wasn’t even the toughest choice I’d had to make since he’d dumped me?
