My mind’s racing. I don’t know how to stop it. I need to lie down.
Dylan and I ride the train back to school in silence. Neither of us is in the mood to talk. The train’s not too crowded and there’s enough room for both of us to take up entire seats. I sit across from him in the window seat. Juliet, Tea, and Tanner are planning on taking a later train, but are also coming back today. No one’s really in the mood to stay too long in Atlantic City after the night we’ve all had.
Around Elizabeth, New Jersey, my headache finally starts to fade and I can think clearer. When I look across the aisle, I see that Dylan also stopped staring out of the window like he’s unconscious.
“How could we let this happen?” I ask, sitting down in the seat next to him. He shrugs and hangs his head. “What are you going to do?” I ask. “Are you going to tell Peyton?”
“I have no idea,” he whispers. “We were just getting back into this really good spot. Not fighting so much. I thought we were finally over all that bullshit from last semester. Now this…it’s going to crush her.”
I sigh. “I don’t know what to do either,” I say.
Suddenly, a look of shock and horror appears on his face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You’re not actually thinking of telling Hudson, are you?” he asks.
I shrug.
“Alice, you can’t!” His voice aches from desperation.
I haven’t actually given this any thought. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want Hudson to know. I don’t want him to know any of this. I want us to go back to the way things were before he got “confused” and we went “on break”. I want us to be back in that happy place where everything felt safe and I thought our love would last forever, but we’re not there anymore. This weekend definitely made things a whole lot more complicated. Even though I don’t want Hudson to know about what happened, I mainly want it to never have happened. I’m not sure if I want to lie to him.
“Alice?” Dylan shakes me. I must’ve spaced out for a moment, or ten.
“Yeah?” I ask.
My eyes focus on the earnest look on Dylan’s face. He doesn’t want me to say anything to Hudson and he’s holding his breath, waiting for my answer.
“Alice, you can’t tell him,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because he’s my roommate! How are we going to make it through the rest of the semester after this?”
“Wouldn’t it be worse if he finds out anyway?” I ask. I can’t lie; the thought of keeping this from Hudson does give me some relief.
“He won’t, if you don’t say anything.”
“What about keeping this lie? Isn’t that bad, too?”
Dylan sighs. “Of course it is, but…I just don’t know any other way around it.”
We don’t say anything for a few minutes while we both think about this. More time doesn’t really help me decide either way.
“Okay, what about this?” Dylan says, turning to me. “What if we first try to get this whole thing resolved? You know, get un-married. Then, and only then, tell him the truth.”
That actually sounds like a good idea. Wow, I’m impressed.
“Yeah, that sounds like it could work,” I say. “And by un-married, you mean…”
“I don’t know, I guess we can try to get an annulment. If that doesn’t work out, then maybe a…divorce.”
That word. Divorce. It sounds so adult. Even more than married. Lots of people get married. Not everyone gets divorced. Especially at nineteen.
“Wow, divorce,” I say, trying to come to grips with the foreignness of the word. “I always thought that I’d have a house with wall-to-wall carpeting, a big mortgage, a golden retriever, and an SUV before I’d ever do that.”
“I thought those things were a requirement,” Dylan says, flashing me a smile. I laugh. This is the first time we’ve smiled since last night. It feels good to do it again.
“So, you think we can get an annulment instead? What is that exactly?” I ask.
An annulment sounds more reasonable than a divorce. I mean, we were really drunk. This was a mistake. How can our situation be subject to the same thing as people who have been married for years? Shouldn’t there be some sort of special clause for accidental weddings?
“I don’t really know,” Dylan says with a shrug. “From what I’ve seen on TV, I think it’s some sort of alternative divorce for people who were coerced into marriage.”
“Hmm, well, maybe we were coerced. We drank too much. We can’t be held responsible for this,” I say.
“I’m not sure it works that way.” He nods. “This is Atlantic City. If everyone said that they were drunk and should get the opportunity to get a do-over, none of the casinos would be in business anymore.”
“I guess not,” I say.
“As soon as we’re back, I’m going to find out exactly what an annulment is and whether we can get it instead of a divorce,” Dylan says. “But before we do that, we have to make a promise to each other.”
“Didn’t we already do that?” I joke. “Promised to love each other through thick and thin? For richer and poorer?”
Dylan cracks a smile.
“Look where that got us,” he says. “Okay, let’s promise each other that we’re not going to tell anyone about this. I mean not anyone. Not Hudson. Not Peyton. Not even friends back home. Until this is all resolved.”
I look straight into his eyes. They twinkle under the harsh fluorescent lights.
“I promise,” I say with a nod.
“I promise, too,” Dylan says. For a second, we dance around possibly giving each other a brief hug to solidify the promise. Instead, we settle on a handshake. It’s more professional. Less intimate.
“Oh, and don’t forget to text
