Page 54 of Past Present Future

But with Rowan, there’s nothing I want more than to make that effort.

“You should. It’s incredible. And not just for her,” he adds. “You can ask her what she wants. What she likes. It’s a lot easier than trying to read minds.” A grin. “Communication is probably fifty percent of the whole thing. Maybe more.”

This sexual enlightenment is making my mind spin. “Thank you,” I say, meaning it. “If my face ever returns to its regular shade of pale, then I’ll put all of this to good use.”

“Thank you. I’ve got to start brainstorming how to tell Adhira I’m a lovesick idiot.”

To prepare for my next trip to Boston, I buy three different brands of lube from an adult shop in the West Village, each one promising to completely transform my sex life. I only blush a little when the cashier tells me to have fun.

We fully intend to, I think to myself, and that confidence buoys me for the rest of the week.

15

ROWAN

“SO WE’VE NARROWED our list of countries down to—” I set the phone on speaker while I count. “Fifteen. From twenty.”

“Seventy-five percent. Not bad.”

I laugh, blowing on my nails. “We’d need months to do that many. My feet are aching just thinking about it.”

As much as I love video chats, there’s something great about being able to talk to Neil like this too. The old-fashioned way, as it were. I’m in an ancient, gigantic T-shirt with a hole in the armpit and mismatched socks, hair haphazardly piled on top of my head. Sheet mask on, Crest Whitestrips pressed to my teeth, an open bottle of nail polish on the desk in front of me. Full self-care mode.

January was a low point for me, but now that campus has started to thaw, my optimism is back. We’re making this work. Spring break is at the end of next month, and even summer doesn’t seem as far away as it used to. It helps that we’ve gotten creative with the distance lately. Last week, we watched a movie at the same time—Neil’s choice, since he won East Coast Howl, although I’m pretty sure he picked You’ve Got Mail just for me. And a few nights ago, we went on a date to an Italian “restaurant,” aka the pasta bar from both our dining halls, then ate together while listening to Dean Martin. I even lit a candle in my dorm room that I immediately extinguished upon realizing it could set off the fire alarm. We waxed poetic about what it’ll be like to eat pasta together in Italy, a country that remains near the top of our list.

A lot of our relationship may be happening at this desk, but we’re doing the best we can.

“We should probably book our first flight soon,” I say. “Before it gets too expensive.”

“We will. As soon as I get my next paycheck.”

There are some shuffling sounds in the background. Neil was drinking a cup of tea, and I imagine him fishing out the bag, saving it for the school’s compost bin. I reach to my mouth before realizing—whoops, probably shouldn’t have painted my nails while whitening my teeth.

“Oh! I wanted to tell you. This might be a bit cart before horse, but… I found a Spanish copy of Vision in White online.” I’m in 202 this semester, along with a first-year seminar called American Popular Culture that I can’t believe counts for school credit. “I figure I already know it so well, and I can work my way up to reading it. And it’s slightly more interesting than what we’re reading in class. Just slightly.”

“Yeah? That’s fantastic. I hope it’s just as romantic in Spanish.”

“Probably even more so,” I say, because none of our calls are complete without some discussion of academics. “Did you ever go back to that linguistics club?”

Neil’s quiet for a moment. “Just once… but I don’t know if it’s really for me. I’ve actually been working on this project in psych about the links between Judaism and psychology.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, I noticed that the majority of psychologists we were studying were Jewish—Sigmund Freud, Alfred Adler, Erich Fromm, Abraham Maslow.…”

“Of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs?”

“The very one,” Neil confirms. I can hear the spark of excitement in his voice—I’ve always loved that. “Some of them were influenced directly by religion. The concept of self-actualization, for example, has roots in Jewish thought. I think there’s also an argument to be made that Jewish tragedy drove people to seek out ways to better understand human nature and ultimately find ways to heal.”

“Wow,” I say, impressed. “You’re not thinking of changing your major or anything, are you?”

It’s mostly a joke—obviously I’d support him changing his major if he decided that was what he wanted to do. But it’s so out of character that I can’t wrap my mind around it. Neil and words go together like… well, like me and words.

Or the way we used to.

“No, no, of course not,” he says quickly. Then, when we realize how late it’s gotten: “See you next Friday?”

He’ll be in Boston for the first time, coinciding with his birthday, and I’m already deep in planning mode. “Next Friday. Can’t wait.”

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