Graduates in Wonderland (28 page)

School is back in session in Australia. I thought you should know that if there was any way to handle the Callum situation with dignity and grace, I did not find it. In class, I always make sure to sit by someone else and avoid Callum's looks. I refuse to engage in conversation with him and I turn down social outings when I know he'll be there.

My system worked perfectly until yesterday, when I was walking across campus and I saw him walking toward me from fifty feet away. I...okay, I pretended like I did not see him and then turned left into the nearest building. But he had seen me, and he caught up with me.

“Jess. I hate that you're avoiding me. Can't we still be friends?”
he said.

“I know. I'm sorry. I just...can't. I almost lost my boyfriend because of you. I know I was part of this too, but it's over,” I said.

And then, before he could say anything else, I left.

I felt sick after this confrontation, but I don't have any real regrets about it. I wonder if this is how guys who have ended things with me felt. Um, I am going to try not to think about that, actually.

Sam is finally moving to Melbourne, so we will get to give our relationship a real chance. I tried calling you to let you know but you aren't picking up! However, I have to sleep now—­I have been up all night writing assignments for my classes. This is the best kind of grad school, though, because it's definitely more fun to turn in journalism pieces than to write academic essays. For my radio final assignment, I sat inside a computer lab in a basement for fifteen hours editing a radio segment about a punk band's tour through Asia. And I kind of loved it the entire time.

This work is so much more stimulating than writing about expat families and city sights in Beijing even though Melbourne is a peaceful, quiet, and relatively unexciting place in comparison. I also appreciate that I can run outside here without coughing up my lungs.

I'm flying to Texas for Paige's wedding at the end of the month. I'm going to be the worst maid of honor ever because I missed the bridal shower, engagement party, and bridal luncheon. I did not throw a bachelorette party. Basically, I have done nothing to get this job except put in a lot of hours of my childhood.

Sam can't accompany me to the wedding because he wants to save money and spend that time getting settled in Melbourne. But I wanted to test him out in Texas waters! See if anyone in my town could understand his English accent. Take him to classy burger joints called Buns Over Texas or show him that gas stations called Toot'n Totum really exist. Maybe make him drive a pickup truck.

But mostly, I need someone like you or Paige, someone who really knows me, to meet him and size him up. I recently realized that it's strange that no one close to me has met him.

Is he even real? What if I made him up?

Love,

Jess

MARCH 12

Rachel to Jess

So, Olivier just called and asked to get a drink tonight so he can get the keys to Sasha's apartment (she and Marc are out of town and I'm taking in their mail). I wanted to find a way out of this, but he's moving to a bigger apartment nearby and has lots of boxes that he needs to store in Sasha's apartment between leases.

Still, though. HATE HIM. Advice on how to act tonight during this exchange?

MARCH 12

Five minutes later

Jess to Rachel

Throw them in his face and say, “Have the fucking keys!” And then run away, in heels, so it makes a good noise on the ground.

MARCH 12

One minute later

Jess to Rachel

Sorry. Just rewatched a French film, with a super dramatic opera soundtrack. A very loud emotional movie. Put me in a melodramatic mood. My life definitely needs more opera music.

MARCH 12

One minute later

Rachel to Jess

Or I could just drop them on the ground in front of him and stand there until he picks them up. Cold. Only works if I have super confidence. Like a cruel ice queen.

MARCH 12

One minute later

Jess to Rachel

No, no, you really can't be crazy! You have to just be normal. Not jokey and smiley, but not mean either. Just say something like, “Here ya go, how's moving, oh yeah? Well, gotta go screw my Italian boyfriend, who I forgot to tell you about. Tick tock.”

If you really say that, I will pay you thirty euros.

MARCH 12

Two minutes later

Rachel to Jess

Um, the cold ice-­queen thing was a joke! But the fact that you said that makes me think that you think I'm a little crazy.

Tick tock?
Stupid Australia.

The worst thing is, I know when I see him, I'll melt. I wish I could hold on to the hatred.

MARCH 12

One minute later

Jess to Rachel

Tick tock is not Australian! That was just some dismissive nonsense to say to confuse him.

When you see Olivier, just pretend you are Audrey Hepburn and he is a flea. No, you are a powerful vampire and he is Bella. Wait, now you love him again. NO. I don't know.

You are YOU and he is Olivier the Loser, who will be remembered for absolutely nothing.

Love,

Jess

P.S. Also, I need fashion advice! There are no bridesmaids dresses for Paige's wedding. The wedding invitation says that the attire is “ranch formal.” Not really sure what this means. High heels with my overalls? I want to wear my most comfortable outfit, which is Levi's, a plaid shirt, and a tiara.

MARCH 14

Rachel to Jess

I've never been to a fancy party at a ranch. In fact, I did not know that those two things were compatible. What that means to me is full equestrian show gear. Please go wearing a black jacket, white collared shirt, riding pants, high boots, and a hard hat. Maybe a pair of pearl earrings.

Every day I do an hour on the elliptical (one hour! Self-­improvement kick is official! BOOM!) while listening to an audiobook about Grace Kelly. And she, a Scorpio like me, almost backed out of her marriage when she found out that Prince Rainier was an incompatible Gemini.

HA NOT ALONE IN MY CRAZY!

Anyway, I gave Olivier his stupid keys. I tried to be calm and controlled, with just a touch of condescension. Slid them across the table. “Oh, how's my life? It's amazing. I'm having such an amazing time. Life is so amazing right now.”

I've been spending my days with Josh, who is the polar opposite of ambiguous Olivier. Josh indulges me at my worst, and today we were sitting on the steps of an old church and I asked him why he came here in the first place.

He said, “I came here to be Hemingway.”

“You
did
?”

“And to marry a French girl.”

Oh.

“So do you write?”

“I keep a notebook,” he said. “I've got some ideas.”

I have always placed adult Hemingway lovers who come to Paris as walking clichés, but when Josh talks about Hemingway's life, I can tell he wants some kind of epic life, epic romance, epic adventures.

I thought I did too, but the only thing is, I think it's too late to have epic adventures in Paris now. It's too polished. For epic, you need China (as you know), or India, or some place other than Western Europe. I would say this to Josh, but I think he already knows this. I also think he knows that he is too much of a real romantic to have the same kind of laissez-­faire attitude of the Lost Generation.

The longer I'm in Paris and the more I think about leaving for London, I'm discovering that I love the sheer cinematic aspect of just living here. Paris is so movie-­like in its way, where every walk along the cobblestones, beneath the nineteenth-­century streetlamps, along the steep staircases, could all be taken from a romantic movie made in the 1890s or the 1950s or yesterday. All of it makes you feel part of something epic, in your own way.

Of course, I actually spend so much of my time at the library watching old movies about Paris for the final stages of my degree. It's the best homework in the world, but being tucked away in a corner watching classic movies set a block from my apartment can feel surreal. After I leave the library, I can see an imaginary red balloon floating over the city in the same way that I can see Gene Kelly dancing along the Seine.

I haven't spoken to a single person today, and wandering along the Seine all day has made me a little too dreamy. You would snap me out of it in a second, probably by pushing me into a river every time I start singing “La Vie en Rose” to myself.

No word from the universities in London yet, which is kind of good. Suddenly, I like not knowing. I like not having to be sure that I have to leave this all behind—­knowing that Paris is still my home, right now, at least.

What is living with Sam like? It's the first time that either of us has EVER lived with a boyfriend. Feels very serious suddenly.

Love,

Rach

MARCH 22

Jess to Rachel

Whenever I imagined living with a guy, I also thought that it would feel really serious, but actually it's just sort of a game where I try to mask or conquer weird habits. When someone's suddenly just there all the time to witness you falling asleep in your jeans for a midday nap or only eating crackers all day because you felt too lazy to go get groceries—­suddenly you don't want to do these things. Just the extra pair of eyes makes me act like a real person. Sometimes when I lived alone, I would have phases where I wore pajamas all day and had no outside contact. I basically did not feel like a person at all.

I've always had this anxious fear of what would happen if a guy saw me at my worst—­hungover at 6 
A.M
. with dirty hair and panda eyes from the previous night's mascara. But Sam and I are working through it together. So far, I don't really care about how sweaty he is after playing soccer, and he doesn't seem to mind panda eye too much.

And after a while, it just gets too exhausting to pretend I look good all the time. Laziness eventually wins out over pride, and I figure it's better he knows what he's getting into sooner rather than later, but maybe I'm getting a little too comfortable too soon. I wore the same baggy T-shirt to bed five nights in a row and found it at the bottom of the laundry hamper when I got home today. I did not put it there.

Before Sam moved in, I was worried because we skipped the whole casual dating thing and went right from fling to moving in together, which could have gone horribly wrong. But he's easygoing and rarely grumpy, so, it's actually going really well. Mostly, I can't believe we get to spend every night together. There's relief in finally having him here for good. All those terrible good-­byes that I had to dread and endure are gone.

We cook dinner nearly every night. He's teaching me the basics. And after dinner, Sam washes the dishes and I dry them with a dish towel. He's a little shocked at how undomestic I am, but I tried to explain how none of my friends are. You aren't. Astrid definitely isn't. Paige is good at drawing
houses, but not cleaning them. We all have our different talents, but live in rooms covered in clothes piles that reach our knees.

Sometimes I look at Sam chopping tomatoes in my sunny kitchen in Australia, and I can hardly believe that we are leading this low-­key, coupley life when just a few months ago, I was his boss and he was my intern in Beijing, and not a soul in the country knew we were a couple. Ten months ago, we were on our pretend honeymoon in Malaysia, frolicking on the beach. I feel the urge to write a flow chart of how I got from Point A to Point B just to try to make sense of it all.

I have never felt this settled before. Yesterday, I saw a baby cactus, and I had to buy it. I had to have it right then. I brought it home, and Sam and I decided it was definitely a male and named him Brian Flanagan, because we felt like Brian Flanagan was the name of a scrappy guy. One small cactus against a big world. It's also the name of Tom Cruise's character in
Cocktail
. It was all very symbolic.

I can't seem to get enough of Sam. We bicker sometimes, but it's the first time that I've ever been in a relationship where I feel that, no matter how big the fight is, it won't lead to the end of us. We've already survived one of the worst I can imagine.

You always said we had to be honest, so I feel like I should tell you that sometimes we write entire e-mails that only consist of rows of xoxos. Please slap me in the face with a fish. We have a Sunday-­morning routine, which involves mochas and newspapers and discussing ideas for my news articles. It does not involve teary good-­byes.

So, I lead a boring, coupley life. Finally. I had one brief panic-­stricken moment after we spent seventy-­two hours together nonstop where I told him I needed to go for a run. I just needed to be alone with my own thoughts. I put on my shoes quickly and sprinted through the park thinking, “I am a stallion! I cannot be tamed! I want to roam free!” An hour later, panting, I walked in the door and found Sam in the kitchen, cooking dinner. He smiled at me and kissed me even though I was sweaty. Then he told me he had a great idea for a feature article for one of my assignments. I actually can't imagine my life without him now.

Sometimes I remember that I almost lost all of this. That's also when I decide, okay, maybe I'll shave my legs today. Better not push my luck too much.

Anyway, what's going on with Josh now? Have you met his girlfriend? Are you positive you aren't attracted to him? You definitely sound more than a little enamored. Send me a photo of him so I know if you are actually just friends, or you are “just friends” and he looks like a Calvin Klein underwear model. You're talking an awful lot about him....

Love,

Jess

APRIL 5

Rachel to Jess

Pass this message on to Sam: Living with you is like living with a cat. Sometimes the cat wants to play with you and it's super fun, but when the cat doesn't want to play with you, you have to leave it the hell alone. Also, it sleeps during the day in short bursts and prowls at night. Does Sam realize this?