Page 71 of Glass Half Full
I could go to school here.
I’ve always loved the McGill campus. When Tahseen and I were finally old enough to come downtown on our own, we’d always hang out here. There’s something about the architecture, the history of it all, that makes every step you take here feel important. Purposeful. Powerful.
Tahseen was always dead set on doing her degree here. I knew even then that I wanted to go abroad, but I still applied to McGill as a ‘safety school.’ I even got offered a small scholarship along with my acceptance.
I sip at my drink, imagining myself joining in the swarm of students, wearing a deep red McGill sweater and filling my head with ideas and knowledge, with plans and goals to achieve. I’m surprised to find how little the idea scares me. Just a few months ago, even the thought of being on a university campus again would have made my heart speed up and my breath get short. Now it almost makes me excited.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
I’m so zoned out I don’t even notice Dylan until he’s lowering himself onto the bench beside me. I turn to him and feel my face splitting into a wide smile. It’s become a reflex response around him. No matter where we are or what we’re doing, I lay eyes on him for the first time and this surge of joy shoots through me like just the sight of him pushes the dopamine button in my brain.
“It’s okay. It’s a gorgeous day out. I almost forgot I was waiting for you,” I joke.
“Well we can’t have that.” He leans over to peck me on the cheek. I turn so he can kiss me properly, but he’s already pulling away. “What Starbucks drink are you subjecting me to?”
It’s fine, I tell myself as I reach for his drink beside me and pass it over.Just because he didn’t full-on make out with you the second he saw you doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong. He also doesn’t need to sit right beside you. There can be a few inches between your thighs.
Still, he’s never lost the opportunity to squeeze in as close as he can. My doubts start seeping back in like an IV drip I just can’t cut myself off from.
“Relax,” I order him, doing my best to sound breezy. “It’s only an Americano.”
“Espresso as it should be served.” He holds his cup up to cheers it with mine and then takes a sip. “Thanks for picking these up, and thanks for meeting me today. I really am sorry about being late. I had to stop in at the bar, and you know how it is. You go in to do one thing, and then you end up doing a dozen.”
He knocks back a few sips of coffee one after the other, and I notice the way his heels are tapping out a frantic rhythm against the ground.
“God, I sound like an asshole. ‘You know how it is,’” he mocks himself. “I should have gotten out of there earlier. I’m sorry.”
“Dylan.” I place my hand on his thigh, tentative at first, but I squeeze his muscle when he puts his hand over mine and finally stops tapping his feet. “It’s okay. Are...are you okay?”
I wish he’d turn and smile at me. I wish he’d bring my hand to his lips and kiss my fingers before saying he’s okay, we’re okay, everything is the most okay it’s ever been.
Instead he sighs.
“Is this...” I pause and swallow, bracing myself for the last thing I want to hear and the one thing I’ve been most afraid of. “Is this about...that night?”
“It’s not like that.” His hand twitches where it’s still holding mine. “It’s not like that at all. That night was...There’s nothing about that night I regret. I’ve never felt so connected with someone, so...so whole in the way I am when I’m with you. I want you to know that.”
I feel like I’m on a seesaw, sliding down into despair one second and being buoyed up by hope the next.
“It was the same for me. I don’t regret anything about it either. So why do I get the feeling you’ve got something bad to say?”
He starts stroking the top of my hand with his thumb as he stares across the laneway in front of us. Then, as if he’s just realized he’s doing something he’s not supposed to, he pulls his hand away and shakes his head. I feel the loss of his contact through my whole body.
“I just...I don’t know if this is working.” He winces at his own words. “I just don’t know.”
I should move my hand off his leg. It’s stupid to keep it there when he doesn’t seem to want to touch me, but I just press my grip more firmly into his thigh. I’m not letting go of him.
“You mean you want to slow down again?” Part of me realizes that’s not what he means at all, but the rest of me is hell-bent on denying it. “We can do that. We can go even slower than before. I don’t care how long it takes. I’m willing to put in the time.”
He’s still staring off into the distance. “I don’t know if time is the answer here.”
“What’s even the question?”
I try not to snap at him, but I can’t help it. This doesn’t make any sense.
He turns to face me, and his eyes hold more pain than I’ve ever seen in them before. “The question I keep asking myself is whether being with me is the best thing for you.”
“No.” Even I’m taken aback by the force in the word. My voice sounds harsh, dangerous even. I’ve never heard myself speak so low before. “No, no, no. You do not get to do that, Dylan. I told you I was in this. I’ve told you over and over again that I’m ready for whatever this takes, that I know it’s not going to be easy, that so many things are stacked against us, but I’m here for this. I’m here for you. Don’t confuse what’s best for me with what’s the least scary for you.”
