Page 88 of Love and Other Goals

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Back at the AOPi house Sunday night, I fill Amaya and Teegan in on the sharp pivot in my plans.

“Wow,” Amaya speaks first. “I guess I’m a little shocked that anything would change your mind about UC Davis. Honestly, I’m shocked that you could change your mind about anything you’d set it on. But it sounds like an incredible opportunity. A perfect job description for you, if there ever was one.”

Teegan gives me a big hug. “I’m super excited for you, Beef. And so proud of you.” As she sits back down, I can read on her face that she’s debating whether or not to say something.

“Just spit it out, Teegs. What else do you want to say?”

She still hesitates, but then says, “I guess I just wonder where this leaves things with Mateo?”

I bury my head in my hands. “Ugh, I don’t know.” I look back up to meet her sad eyes. “I mean, yes, I have realized that I need to be more flexible with my plans. But that doesn’t change the fact that Mateo didn’t tell me about his opportunity. And I also can’t erase the mental picture of the distrust in his eyes when he questioned me about Aaron. I don’t know how to get past that.”

It’s a mental picture I replay every time those niggling doubts about whether I was wrong to push Mateo away start to creep in. It’s the only way I can hold onto my resolve to keep pushing him away when the little voice deep inside me starts yelling about how much I want him back.

Teegan’s face is downcast, but she shrugs. Amaya throws an arm around my shoulders and asks me to tell them more about the Chacón Center. Grateful for the change in subject, I launch into a summary of my research, fighting not to let Teegan’s misgivings water those seeds of doubt about keeping Mateo at arm’s length.

It’s a battle I’m too scared to lose.

Although I feel completely confident in my decision to work for Elena, I wake up Monday morning overwhelmed with dread. I wish I could finish my classes remotely and avoid the Townsend campus forever. Except, not really, because I’m not ready to leave Amaya and Teegan yet. If only I could create a bubble around me to keep Mateo and Aaron away, I could move through campus without anxiety.

Outside the door to my Human Communications class, I pause and give a compelling mental pep talk. I hunch into myself and enter the room with my eyes down, choosing a seat in the back corner. I listen to the professor and take detailed notes, careful not to look around the room or participate in the discussion and risk inviting interaction with Aaron. Beelining it out of the room, I hurry back to AOPi and feel I’ve created a successful game plan for avoiding Aaron in class.

Now I just have to draw up a plan for The Hangout. And Arrow meetings. And generally being out in public on campus or in town.

Ugh.

Tuesday afternoon, I’m pacing my room, trying to decide what to do about The Hangout. Go, and risk Mateo being there? Or not go, and give up one of the precious few weeks I have left with Sofia, Shaista, and the other girls?

I decide to risk it and walk down to my car, only to see a bright paper under the windshield wiper again. I approach like the note is a scorpion that might sting me.

I won’t go to The Hangout. It was your place first is written on the front of the folded paper, along with an arrow at the bottom indicating there’s more inside. I add the note to the pile in my glove box without opening it, breathing a sigh of relief that I can at least go to the program confidently knowing I won’t see Mateo. My sigh quickly falls into a groan as I realize that all the middle and high school guys who have grown accustomed to Mateo’s presence there will be disappointed. Guilt starts to gnaw on my armored heart.

No! That isn’t my fault. It’s Mateo’s fault. He can feel guilty.

I push away the nagging feelings as I drive to the program and go inside to find the girls. There are a lot of murmurs with Mateo’s name when I enter solo, and I’m mentally scrambling to come up with an explanation that doesn’t include me tipping my breakup cards to a room full of teenagers.

The program director tells a group of the guys that Mateo had a new commitment come up, and he wouldn’t be free on Tuesdays any longer. There are a lot of disappointed faces, and the guilty feelings start to overpower my justifying self-talk. Sofia asks me about it, but I shrug it off and change the subject.

Arrow meetings are the final hurdle. I contact Rachel and ask to pass off my welcome team duties, using my busy schedule as an excuse, even though there’s a slim-to-none chance that she hasn’t heard about our breakup via Kent. She graciously doesn’t call me out on my fib.

Without the requirement to arrive early, I purposely come late and slip in the back, where Amaya saved a seat for me. I half-heartedly sing along with the worship songs and keep my eyes glued to Kent as he shares a message about trusting God with our unknowns. When the band starts the final song, I whisper thanks to Amaya and sneak out the back before the meeting officially ends, successfully avoiding interaction with anyone.

Walking home alone, I take a deep breath. I did it. I made it through the week.

I’ve always been good at coming up with solid plans. And now I have a strategy to survive the rest of my time at Townsend. Keep your head down. Straight in, straight out. Minimize interaction. Rinse and repeat.

CHAPTER FORTY

My rinse-and-repeat plan turns out to be effective but depressing.

Time at AOPi with Teegan and Amaya is my safe haven, my lifeline, my only bright spot over the next two weeks. They express their concern about how little I’m eating, how infrequently I’m washing my hair, how disengaged I am from anything outside of class or the sorority house. But aside from Teegan’s unacceptable suggestion of talking to Mateo to at least patch things over, they don’t have any alternative solutions to my pared down existence.

Rinse and repeat.

The stack of unread notes in my glove box grows each time I drive anywhere. It’s unfair that a pile of paper can weigh like a ton of bricks on your heart.

I mask my voice with optimism when I talk with my mom, focusing on my excitement about my upcoming year in D.C. and conversations I have with Elena, or our mutual encouragement with how well Dean is doing now. We just avoid acknowledging the role Mateo played in that storyline. Mom always reminds me that she’s praying for wisdom and peace for me, and I lie to myself that she only means about D.C. and not about any other aspect of my life.

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