Then the softness drops. She stares at the flower like it’s a problem, her lips pinching.
I don’t know what that reaction means, but I press on. “There’s a film at the indie theater this weekend,” I say. “It’s, uh, German and won a bunch of awards. I was thinking we could see it. Maybe grab food.”
“Umm…”
The pause stretches. I wait for the yes that has to come because she cried in front of me and we made love and she fell asleep in my arms. I gave her my virginity. That has to mean what I think it means.
She fidgets with the strap of her bag. She returns the flower. “Hey, Aeron, I don’t want to be rude but I also want to be clear about us, okay? So… I had a nice time the other day, you’re very sweet, but it was just some fun. Like, part of the college experience, you know? You go to parties, get emotional about stupid shit, hook up with strangers.”
Strangers.
I’m not a stranger.
Why is she calling me a stranger?
My mouth won’t work. I’m just standing here holding a dried violet. And I don’t know what’s happening.
Cinna chews her bottom lip and stares up at the sky. When she looks down, it’s like she is looking at a stranger. Her eyes have that polite, distant quality to them. “I’ll be clear so there’s no confusion. I really don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I have to be honest. I think you’re a sweet guy and…” A pause. “I’m… I’m just not interested. I’m sorry. We had fun and that was what I needed that night but that’s all it was, you know? I’m sorry. I hope this doesn’t make things weird.” She nods slowly, encouraging me to agree. I nod back. My head moves and I don’t tell it to. She checks her phone. “I, um, I have to go. See you later, okay?”
She walks off, her bun bouncing with each step. The curls I spent an hour sketching are fading into the distance.
To her it was a party hookup? A stranger she used because she was sad.
All those years of being kind to me, noticing me, bringing cookies upstairs, telling me she saw how Mom treated me differently. That was…
I glance down at the tiny dried violet in my hand. I crush it in my fist, then rub the pieces between my fingers so they shred and flutter to the ground.
Everything Cinna did for me, every kindness she showed, wasn’t about me at all. It was all for my sister. She was being sweet to June’s little brother so June would feel happy.
I didn’t matter to Cinna except as an extension of my sister.
Always. It’salwaysabout June.
The feelings fill my skull until it feels like my head will explode. The pain then fills my chest until it’s crushed. My limbs start tingling. The hurt is so total my body doesn’t know where to put it. My knees buckle inward slightly. My skin feels suddenly dry and ready to crack. My jaw aches from clenching.
The pain propels me forward. I walk until I’m off campus. I walk across the street to the bus stop.
It takes three buses to reach the inner city, two hours of watching suburbs thin out and buildings grow tall. Streets narrow and light becomes harsh. By the time I get off the last bus the afternoon is already fading into fall’s early embrace. The neighborhood is concrete and rust-colored brick, dumpsters chained to fences, a bodega with half its sign burnt out.
I’m heading to a guy I found on Snapchat a few weeks ago. Before that frat party, I’d been thinking about trying something stronger than weed.
Then my night with Cinna happened and life felt amazing, so I decided I didn’t need other drugs.
I’d be okay as long as I had Cinna.
What a fucking joke.
I shiver as I walk. I forgot my jacket. The cold bites my forearms and cuts through my T-shirt. I don’t care.
The apartment building has six floors of stained concrete. I find the right unit and knock.
A guy opens the door with the chain lock on. He has orange-tinted skin, like he lays in tanning beds too long. One disinterested eye peers through the crack. “Yeah?”
“We were talking on Snapchat,” I say.
His expression doesn’t change. “I talk to a lot of people on Snapchat.”
Irritation cuts through my numbness. “I need to buy something, so do you want my money or not?”
