“Maybe you should talk to Daisy first.”
“About what? Every night will be a sleepover for her. In fact, if I didn’t ask you to move in with us, she’d probably do that thing where she puts her hands on her hips and scolds me.”
“Well, I should at least think about it, right?”
“Sure. I think the late housing change request is the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, so you have a little while.”
We sit there in silence, my eyes finally becoming heavy.
“I’m surprised he hasn’t come back yet,” she says.
“Who?”
“You know who. Bennett. That time you were sick… he was practically manic. And ever since the beginning of the semester, he has waited up for you to get home from your late nights at the library. I would always see him with the light on. It only took a few weeks to pick up on the pattern.”
I shake my head at her. “But… the lights were always off when I got back.”
She looks at me pointedly, and I realize that he probably turned them off just before I normally arrived home.
“I am the last person anyone should take relationship advice from,” she starts. “But it sounds like you both want the same thing in different ways. And he spent all those nights waiting, right? Somaybe he just needs to cool down. I think if you want to backpedal things a little, he would be willing to wait some more.”
Backpedal.I hate the sound of that. Like we’ve gained progress and would just lose it all if we simply relabeled our relationship.
“Why does it matter to you so much?” she asks. “The whole not-being-married thing.”
“Because what if someday we actually want this for real?”
“And it doesn’t feel real now?”
I pause, trying to parse out how to respond. When I think of the moments that were supposedly fake, I have to admit that even those made me feel something. Every touch and kiss led us here. I can still feel the carpet of the library on the backs of my thighs and picture the sight of the gas fireplace flickering shadows across the room. That was all very much real to me.
“Of course it does,” I tell her.
“So then what’s the point of waiting? Why does it all have to happen in some sort of order? You’ve got now. Right this moment, and that’s as far as life’s guarantee goes.” She studies me as I feel my brow furrow, and my memories channel back to the dozens of times Bennett would smooth his thumb over my forehead, like he could erase my worries.
“My aunt,” Briar says. “She would always saydon’t save the good stuff. Clothes, dresses, dishes… whatever. Because we could just die. We could just wake up one day and think it’s any other day and we could leave the new dress with tags in the closet for another, better day, but that day might never come. And then you’re well and truly fucked.”
“That… is so depressing.”
She nods. “Yeah, life is pretty bleak. But I think you gotta ask yourself: Is Bennett the good stuff? Is he the dress with tags? Is hethe fancy-as-shit china? And if that’s the case, what are you waiting for?”
I let that settle for a minute. What am I waiting for? Is this really about reserving the someday possibility of marrying on our own terms? Or is this about waiting for the perfect day—the perfect season of our lives—that might never come?
I spend the next night in Briar and Daisy’s dorm. We pool our resources and make a rather comfy bed of blankets and pillows. Daisy and I help each other study for our Geology 1 class, which we take from the same professor at different times. Every once in a while, we help Briar with her seemingly endless customers. And by the time I fall asleep, I can clearly see how simple it would be if the three of us did take the roommate plunge. Especially considering that I would have my own bed and wouldn’t be relegated to the floor.
On Saturday morning, Mom picks me up after I ask if I can spend the night at home and catch up with her.
“Lucky me,” she says as I buckle my seat belt. “A slumber party with my favorite girl.”
“Can we make pizzas for dinner?” I ask. “The ones with the pesto on top.”
“Looking for some comfort food?”
“Something like that.”
I begin to tell her what happened while we eat dinner on the couch.
She lets me curl up against her, and to my surprise she doesn’t immediately advocate for me and Bennett to get a divorce. She frowns when I mention Sydney’s birthday dinner and our conversation, but Ican’t tell if it’s because she wasn’t included or because Sydney offered me money. Probably a little bit of both.
