Suzanne was home, in San Francisco, doing her Summer stint at a firm there. I hadn’t spoken to Mary in months, not since I had run into her and Betty and had that long coffee in town. They both asked me as I finished up there to be patient. I knew that was all I could do. She was worth waiting for.
Nor had my Mom, who went with Mary and Betty a fair amount, said a thing about Suzanne.
Now I sat on Suzanne’s stoop. I hadn’t been there since that horrible January day. I don’t know why, but I sat on her stoop. I was sweaty and needed the break. I plopped my backpack next to me and took a sip from the water bottle it carried, then holding the bottle lightly in my hands as I thought. I thought about her a lot. In some ways, she was my only friend and now I had nothing but acquaintances. Classmates who were Summer associates with me. Michael, Bill, and Marie, the other members of the study group, which had, without Suzanne, carried through the Spring semester and proven its worth by having each of its members achieving Stone Scholar status for the year. We all missed her, but she kept her distance from them as well. I thought of her when I found that out because I did not know whether she was also a Stone Scholar.
So, I sat on her stoop for about half-an-hour and then slowly rose and grabbed my backpack, hoisting it over my right shoulder. I had not thought of her and just of her this intensely for a long time; I almost always did before drifting to sleep. I was now very, very tired and I got on the subway to 125th where I changed to the bus, my usual bus, to the Metro-North Station for the train ride home. And I almost but did not cry. Until I got home when the tears flowed and my Mom hugged me tightly as I told her how I had screwed everything up.
Suzanne: Trapped
Shit. It’s her. She has the stupid backpack that her Mom’s so proud to see. I want to meet Patsy for a run but she’s sitting on the stoop.
I sent a text:
{Suze: Patsy. Something’s come up. I’m stuck in my apartment. Go without me. S.}
I loved her but I did not know if I could trust her let alone whether she could ever love me as anything but a friend. If I went to her, I was afraid the dream of our becoming lovers and more would evaporate and I wouldn’t have anything with her.
Kerry: “You’re Not in California?”
My phone rang. I was taking a nap after walking and concentrating so much. And crying so much. More than anything, the concentrated thoughts of her wore me down.
It was Suzanne. My stomach churned. She hadn’t called me since, well, the last day I had been at, and actually in, her Apartment. She was in San Francisco so I wondered why.
“Hello.”
“I saw you.”
“What??”
“Why did you come to my Apartment?”
“Wait. Aren’t you in San Francisco?”
“No. I never went.”
She’d been in New York the whole time. She was a half-an-hour away the whole time.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Not now. I have to see you. I’ve hated myself since…well, you know. I need to tell you something and I don’t care what happens when I do. Can I come up to see you tomorrow?”
“I need to speak to you too. I can drive down and meet you now.”
“It’s too late.”
I sighed.
She quickly said, “No. No. At least I hope not. It’s too late for meeting tonight. I don’t want to hurry it. I can’t hurry it.”
“Take the train to Bronxville. Just text me the time. I’ll meet you and we can walk over to the lake, sit down, and, well, talk.”
“I’d like that.”
“And Suze.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll get your coffee beforehand. I know how you take it. Or at least how you used to take it.”
“That hasn’t changed. I…I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.”
“For a change, I just might.” I did not mean to say that last bit. It popped out. But I did not care if I was sharing too much. With Suze.
Suzanne: Rolling the Dice
I don’t know how it was for Kerry but I hardly slept at all. When I saw her on the stoop I could have run down to her. I hadn’t seen her since the last day of exams months before. I had immediately walked home, ignoring all of the post-exam celebrations the school set up for us.
Kerry would only have been on the stoop, thinking I was in California, if she was still thinking about me seven months after everything had gone to pieces. But I couldn’t run down. I thought of her all the time, at least all the time I could afford to spend on stuff that was not school- or work- or running-related. I had done a good job of just shutting it out completely except for that conversation I had in June with Patsy and the sit-downs with Mary.
I couldn’t run down because I had no idea what I would say to her. And I was afraid that whatever hope I had would be forever dashed, that she would make it clear that she was straight and that I repulsed her because I was not straight. But when I finally put it to myself like that, when I had finally examined precisely what she thought of me, I realized that I would never repulse her. I knew her well enough that she was a person who would never reject someone for simply who she was because that was not who she was.