Page 23 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
I worried myself sick with questions for a few days after our first encounter before worry turned to anger. This was Jamie, the boy I used to ride around town with, the boy who called me his best friend. And suddenly he was the world’s biggest prick. He’d gone from smiling and joking with me on that first day to avoiding me completely, save for the glares he would occasionally throw my direction on his way out when I’d be hanging out in his and Ethan’s dorm room. It was maddening.
Whatever. He wanted to ignore me? Fine. I would ignore him right back.
I was studying for my first sociology test about a month after school started when Jenna called. I smiled at the screen on my phone, flopping back on my bed to take a break and talk to my best friend who was an entire country away.
“I miss you!” she squealed as soon as the line connected.
“I miss you, too! How’s New York?”
She huffed. “The city is amazing, the school work sucks, and the weather I haven’t decided on yet. How about you? How are classes? How’s Ethan?”
“Classes aren’t bad, and Ethan is amazing. He’s been really busy with Student Government, but I see him almost every night and he’s been showing me a lot of the campus.”
“You guys boning a lot?”
“Oh my God, Jenna.” I rolled over, fingers tracing the lines of my pale-yellow comforter. My dorm room was small, but it had a door that separated me from my roommates, which was all I really needed in life. I had minimal decorations, my laptop the only thing that sat on my desk other than a photo of Jenna and me, and I had two motivational posters on the wall. The biggest embellishments were my throw pillows, yellow and white, and my lime green surfboard that leaned against the inside of my closet, begging to be used.
“What? You lost your v-card this summer, B. I’m finally allowed to ask you about your sex life and I’m taking every opportunity to do so.”
I rolled my eyes. “We’re boning a consistent amount, doctor, and I’m taking my birth control. Can we move on to something else now?”
Jenna laughed. “Fine. If you were wondering about me, I haven’t hooked up with anyone yet, but I have my eyes on a few prospects.”
“Thanks for the update, scout.”
“So what else is new?”
Jenna was attending New York University, on the literal opposite side of the country from me, and the more we talked about professors and campus dining, the more I missed her. It was the first time we’d been apart since we were toddlers, and I was still having a hard time building a friendship with my roommates. I had three of them, one a volleyball player here on scholarship from Virginia, one an animal-rights’ activist from northern California, and the other a soft-spoken Christian from Kansas. None of us had found much common ground to walk on yet, but I was trying to be hopeful.
“When can I come visit you? I miss the beach already,” Jenna said with a longing sigh.
“My twin bed is yours to cuddle in anytime you want it.”
“I’m serious, I’m going to just pop up on your doorstep one day.”
I smiled. “And it’d be the best day ever.”
After our phone call, I shot off an email to Mom with details on how classes were going. Our schedules hardly ever lined up enough for phone calls, but we had been emailing pretty steadily. Interestingly enough, our relationship had grown stronger during my last year of high school. Part of that might have been me disconnecting my father from my life completely while the other part was likely from me finally forgiving her for my name. I wasn’t ready to embrace it again just yet, but after many late-night talks, I understood her motives. My mom had been a young, scared teenager when I was placed in her arms. And though I was born out of a tragedy, she found beauty in me, and she’d given up so much for me to chase my dreams.
I earned a few scholarships that helped get me to California, but I had still fallen short of what I needed. That was, until I found out Mom had been saving for my college fund religiously since I was born. Dad didn’t have anything to offer me, other than a pat on the back at graduation, and I hadn’t spoken to him since.
It hurt letting go of my dad, because for so long I’d lived in that space in-between, where I wasn’t sure how to feel about him or what he did to my mom. But even in that space, we’d grown apart, and I didn’t want the good memories I had with my dad to be replaced by awkward, tension-filled ones. So, I decided after graduation to just let him go. He’d only called once since then and I ignored it. Maybe we could reconnect later, but right now, I was content focusing on me for a while.
