“So, how are you?” I ask. She doesn’t respond right away.
“Eh, fine. You live and learn, I guess,” she says.
I’ve always wondered what that expression meant. It’s as if it’s a way to just write off a huge part of life and not deal with it. It seems enlightening and worldly, but it sounds like an excuse. Like a statement that someone makes when they don’t want to make a statement at all.
“So, what did you learn?” I ask.
She’s just trying to cope with this. I shouldn’t be putting her on the spot like that. I know that and I hate myself for doing it anyway.
“What did I learn?” Juliet asks like she’s trying to buy time. “That I shouldn’t go out with assholes.”
We both laugh.
“That’s going to be a tough thing in this city,” I joke.
I don’t see Hudson until that afternoon. In the morning, he goes for a run and then I go out for brunch with Juliet. She’s still distraught over Dylan, but trying to put on as brave of a face as possible. That afternoon, she goes out to a matinée show of A Streetcar Named Desire with some of her acting friends. I’m invited, too, but opt to stay home. The drizzle that started that morning has morphed into a full-blown rainstorm and I have a hard time braving the streets of New York in this kind of weather.
The good thing about not going to the cabin for the weekend, one of many, is that I actually have time to edit my paper due on Monday. I was in a rush to finish it before the trip and now, for the first time this semester, I’m actually done two days before it’s due. The feeling is quite exhilarating, I can’t lie. There’s this heavy feeling of dread that lifts off me. I don’t have a dark cloud hanging around my head about a paper that I should be writing but I’m not. It feels so good, actually, that I decide to try to finish other papers early as well. It might be a pipe dream, but it’s good to have dreams, right?
There’s a knock on my door just as I finish reading the last sentence of my paper.
“Come in,” I say. I click save and close my laptop.
When I turn around in my chair, I see Hudson standing awkwardly in the doorway, unsure about coming in.
“Oh, hey, how are you?” I ask.
“Okay, I guess.” He hangs his head. “I went for a run this morning. To clear my head.”
“And?” I ask hopefully.
“I’m still finding it difficult to get over the fact that I lost fifteen grand, but I guess I’m feeling better than last night.”
I nod and ask him to come in. We both sit down on my bed together.
“On the bright side,” I say. “At least, you had fifteen grand to lose. I mean, that’s something, right?”
That was my bad attempt at a joke. It backfires. He looks crushed. I feel like a massive idiot for even saying something like that. Something so insensitive.
“I’m sorry,” I say. Too little, too late.
“No, that’s true, I guess. Just a little too soon, I think.”
I nod, grateful that he doesn’t take it personally.
“So, I mainly wanted to come here and talk to you about Dylan,” he says.
“Dylan?”
“I don’t want you to talk to him about this anymore. You shouldn’t have lectured him about this.”
“I was just trying to help you,” I say defensively.
“I know, but I don’t need it.” He shakes his head. “It’s not Dylan’s fault. I don’t think he scammed me. He lost a lot of money, too.”
“I know, but—“ I start to say.
“No buts, Alice,” he cuts me off.
I feel this incessant need to make Hudson understand that I was coming from a good place. I don’t know why. I don’t think for a second that he might already know that.
“It was an investment. That’s what happens to bad investments,” he adds. His voice is forceful, certain. I look up at him. There are flames of anger in his eyes.
“What’s wrong? Why are you mad?” I ask.
“Why? Because you are butting into my business. Do you know how embarrassing that is?”
“I was just trying to help.”
“Alice, I don’t need you to–” he yells. Then stops short at the end of the sentence. He doesn’t finish it. It’s like he’s afraid of finishing it.
“You don’t need me,” I say. “I get it.”
I get off the bed. I don’t want to see his face. Yesterday was like a dream. Not necessarily a bad dream, just a dream. It doesn’t feel real. I walk over to the window and look out at the pouring rain outside. The whole city is crying.
“That’s not what I meant,” Hudson says.
I wait for him to put his arm around me, but he doesn’t. He simply walks to the door and leaves.
3
I don’t know whether it’s from lack of sleep and general exhaustion, but I suddenly break down sobbing. This is the first time I’ve cried like this since our actual breakup. I feel like I’ve been holding it all in for so long and now it’s finally out.
“No, I can’t do this anymore,” I whisper to myself through the tears.
An hour passes. My tears dry up. I open a textbook to try to get some studying in before finals next week. A knock at the door breaks my concentration.
“Can I come in?” Hudson asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m busy.”
He sits down next to me anyway. Takes my hand. I try to push him away, but he doesn’t let me. I look into his eyes. There’s a hint of hope and a whole lot of regret in them.
Hudson leans toward me and takes away my books. He drops everything on the floor. I let him.
He leans closer to me. Presses his soft lips onto mine. Breathes me in. As we kiss, his hands start to slide down my body. Eventually, they
