In the Wake of Wanting (2 page)

“How did you start a fire?”

“I wasn’t paying attention and I turned on the wrong burner. There was part of a dishrag on it and I went to take a quick shower while I was getting everything started. It was contained. I’ll probably need a new stovetop or something. I don’t know. I’m not worried about it.”

“You could have called and told me you were running late,
Tria
,” she says sweetly. “I didn’t realize you had a game.”

“Well, it’s already so late there. I didn’t want you to have to postpone having dinner even longer.” The time difference between New York and Oxford could be worse, I guess, but it’s pretty inconvenient when I most want to talk to her. During the week while we’re in school, we have scheduled calls over my lunch break, which means we rarely get to talk about anything very personal since I’m typically somewhere on the Columbia campus, where there’s not a whole lot of privacy. It doesn’t matter where I go, it feels like someone is watching me–and they probably are.

Being the son of the richest man in the country, I’ve spent my whole life in the spotlight. The entire city has had a front-row seat to my childhood. I recognize the unwelcome photographers who have staked out family birthday parties, formal gatherings, and casual arguments in the street. I know some of them by name.

The campus provides a little shelter from prying eyes, but not much.

“Are you all right?” Zaina asks.

“Yeah,” I tell her with the first genuine smile of the afternoon. “You?”

“I’m glad you’re okay. That must have been scary.”

“It was a little unnerving. But I’m confident in the FDNY’s response to fire alarms here. They were very quick. I barely had enough time to put underwear on before they nearly busted down the door. But I’m not too inept with an extinguisher. Sadly, the neighbors now have one more reason to hate me, though. Aside from my occasional loud friends and their louder music, the paparazzi blocking the drive downstairs, and the randos that somehow make their way into the building every now and again in their search to find me, now they can complain about having to exit down the stairs when the alarms went off today.”

“A good fire drill never killed anyone.”

“I hope,” I say, thinking about my elderly neighbor, Mrs. Hoffbriar, across the hall. I wonder how she managed and consider going to check on her. Knowing her, she’s probably still packing up her expensive jewelry in preparation to take it downstairs. She’s a woman with priorities. Having never had children, her prized possessions are the millions of dollars of jewels her husband had given her over their lifetime together. I only know this because I’ve helped her move some heavy things a few times, and she’s thanked me with milk, cookies, and an inordinate amount of much too personal information. I make sure I’m available to help her anytime, though, because anyone less honorable–and less wealthy–would take advantage of her trusting nature. She knows my family name. She knows I would never have a need for her diamonds.

“Can we toast? To us?” Zaina asks, lifting a wine glass.

“You know I can’t buy alcohol,” I respond with the answer she should expect from me.

“You have Jon and Livvy, or Matty. I figured they could get you some wine.”

“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be encouraging me to have any.” We’d had one too many fights about her perception of my overuse of alcohol. I don’t lie about much, but when it comes to her, I never let on that I drink anything. It gives her one less thing to use against me in any arguments that may pop up.

“It’s a special occasion. I’m having some.”

“I guessed wrong, then. I just have some Coke,” I say, lifting my spiked beverage for her to see. Without waiting to see if that will work for her, I start in on a speech. “I knew how lucky I was four years ago when we sat down at Tamarind on our first date–mainly because I never would have been able to navigate that menu without you.” She rolls her eyes at me. “You know I was already infatuated with you by all the questions I would ask you on our group dates. There was no hiding my crush on you well before we were a thing. I loved learning about you: about our differences and our similarities. And what I was surprised to find was that we were actually so similar. My favorite thing about you is that we share the same ethical values, Zai.” If my conscience could intervene and thump me on the back of the head, it would at this moment as I talk about my ethics while I lie about such a stupid thing as what I’m drinking just to avoid a potential fight. “That if there’s ever a question of right or wrong, we’re always on the same side. I never thought that would be such a hard thing to find… but it’s important to me. I love you, Zaina, and we’ve had four, wonderful years together. Thank you.”

“I love you, too,
Tria
. I love that you know and respect what’s important to me. I love that you supported my decision to go away to school, even though it meant we would be apart while I pursued my dream. And not many boyfriends would agree to–”

The doorbell rings, interrupting her toast.

“Sorry, Zai, can you hold that thought?” She looks offended. “I think it’s my dinner.”

“Oh,” she says, conceding with a forced smile. “Okay.”

“Yes?” I answer to the concierge downstairs through the intercom.

“Trey, you have a delivery from Sal’s Pizza.”

“You can send them up. Thanks, Jerry.”

“You’re welcome.”

I return to the computer while I wait for my food. “What did you order?”

“Sal’s. Mom called it in for me.”

“That was sweet of her.”

“You know my mom. Just a sec,” I say to her when there’s a knock on the door.

“Hey, Trey,” Arturo, my regular delivery guy, says. “Large artichoke and prosciutto pizza with a Caesar. Your
mommy
paid in advance.”

“Oh, shit. Really?”

“Yeah.”

I pull out my wallet and hand him a ten.

“I gotta be honest, she tipped me well, too.”

“Well, it wasn’t her place to do that. Take it.”

“You guys are too generous.”

“You guys always save the day and encourage my laziness. Although today…”

“What’s that smell?” he asks.

“Burnt dishcloth and stovetop, I guess.” I step back to let him see the damage.

“Oh, fuck! You did that?”

“Yeah.”

“The fire department came for
you
?”

I laugh. “Yeah…”

“We need to bring you something more tomorrow?”

“Maybe so,” I tell him. “I’ll call in if I don’t go out. Thanks, Arturo.”

“Good luck with that,” he says.

“Thanks.”

“Ahem.” I easily recognize Zaina’s annoyed attention-getting throat-clear.

“Oh, shit,” I whisper to myself. I’m surprised Art didn’t ask me about my suit. It’s not like I sit around dressed like this every day. “Let me get a plate and I’ll be right there, Zai!” I yell to her. I hurry to get everything together, then return to the computer. “Okay,” I say, trying to give her my full attention, even though I’m starving and can’t wait to have a bite of pizza. “Where were we?”

“In the middle of our toast,” she says.

“Right.” I pick up my glass again, trying to remember where I left off. “Ummm…”

“You were finished.”

“Okay, cool.” My embarrassment burns in my cheeks. “Sorry, Zai. Really. Continue, please. I’m listening.”

“I was saying… Not many boyfriends would agree to getting all dressed up just to spend an hour or two talking to their girlfriend over video chat, but maybe you’d rather be somewhere else, too.”

“Come on, please. Give me a break with this, okay? We had the nicest dinner we’ve ever had last weekend to celebrate our anniversary. We followed it up with an incredibly romantic night away at the Glenmere. It’s not that I want to be somewhere else, Zai. It’s that my mind is already in a million other places, and at two on a Saturday, it’s hard to put everything else aside and pretend it’s a quiet evening out with my girl. I still have prep work to do before classes start Monday. I need to do research this weekend and I have supplies to buy before the book store closes at six.”

“Why do you have to do that today? Now?”

“Because I have a life outside of you!” I say before thinking. She glares into the camera, looking more hurt than angry now. I smile sheepishly, preparing a groveling apology. “I’ve been volunteering this week. I’ve been at swim practice. I’ve been reading prerequisite stuff and writing. Look, we spent so much time together over the break, but now it’s time for me to focus on school. You know I signed up for a lot of hours. They made me an editor this semester, so that’s more work for me, too. I’m using the blog for my social media course, so I have to clean it up, which–you’re right–I should have done over the holidays, and I’m behind on posting content–”

“So, what, you’re holding it against me for not getting your things done over Christmas break? Are you regretting hanging out with me? We didn’t spend
that
much time together, Trey. You didn’t ask me to stay with you–”

“Hold up, Zai, first of all, I never blamed you for not getting my stuff done. Secondly, you
did
stay over a few nights.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“I didn’t think your parents would go for that, so the thought never crossed my mind.”

“Never
crossed your mind
?”

“Well, what? Did you think you’d just move in with me temporarily?”

“Shouldn’t we be at that point? Where you bring me back to your place when I come home, instead of dropping me off at Mom and Dad’s? And why wouldn’t my parents
go for that
?” she asks with air quotes. “They know of our plans after graduation,” she says. “They adore you.”

“Shouldn’t you have told me of these outlandish expectations before Christmas break and not a week after you went back to school, so you wouldn’t be pissed off at how much I’d let you down without even knowing it?” I respond defensively. “We’ve always excelled at communication, Zai. Why is this suddenly becoming a problem? You change your major from journalism to medicine and all of a sudden you’re elusive and afraid to speak directly to me? Do you need a nurse to be your middleman? Or maybe a prescription pad so you can write shit down?”

“Stop it, Trey, and stop avoiding my question. Shouldn’t we be at that point?”

Living with her–giving up my free time and my privacy–scares me in ways it probably shouldn't. And it wouldn’t be for much of the year. Christmas break, spring break, and a few months over the summer. Even that is too much time for me. I feel anxious just thinking about it.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of
should
or
shouldn’t
. Like, based on whose standards? It’s a matter of if that’s what we want and what we’re ready for, and Zai, I’m not. That’s a… uh…” I stutter to think of my reasoning. “A post-engagement step in my mind. And based on
the plan
, that doesn’t come for a few more years.”

“Well, I don’t agree.”

“With which part?”

“That living together is a post-engagement step.”

“Sorry,” I say, holding my ground.

“Is this one of your super old-fashioned, set-in-your-way things?” she asks in a mocking tone.

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Honestly, I’ve never even thought about this before. It just seems like the quickest way out of the conversation.

“A non-negotiable…”

“Yeah.”

She shakes her head and scoffs at me. “So this is how we celebrate our fourth anniversary. Fighting about our future.”

I stare at the screen, studying her beautiful–yet strained–features. “Why can’t we just remember last weekend as the celebration, Zai? Why does the damn date matter so much? This is just impractical, and it feels forced to me. Last weekend was amazing. Every second of it. We had privacy nearly the entire time. When do we ever get that? And we didn’t squander it. Not a single, private moment, and I remember them all. Don’t take that for granted. I don’t. I loved it. I wrote about it.”

“You did?”

I nod my head. “Just something in my journal. It was my first entry in over a month.”

“Will you read it to me?”

“Maybe someday,” I tell her, thinking about the right moment for that, if there ever will be one. She wouldn’t like what I wrote.

“Take off your tie,” she tells me, “and your jacket. Do you have a vest on, too?”

“I do,” I tell her.

“Take that off. Get comfortable.”

My eyes plead with hers, begging for forgiveness.

“I don’t take you for granted,
Tria
. Everything you planned for last weekend was perfect. From the hotel, to all the meals, to the sunset yacht ride, and the necklace… and the night we spent together. It was the ideal anniversary. Honestly, I don’t know why this was important to me. I just wanted to make sure I had some of your time today so you thought about me on our actual anniversary because I knew you had a lot going on.”