Not so super -- Chapter 15.
By the time I found my bearings, I was a few blocks away from school. I had my jacket in one hand and my knapsack in the other. I knew that I’d left school. I didn’t remember doing it. I hadn’t gotten into my locker before Zeta found me. I doubted that I had done so afterwards. Who knew what books I had in my bag? Homework this weekend was going to be a problem. But that was pretty far down on my list of things to worry about. Maybe lower than Eunice.
I stopped to put on my jacket and looked around. The street was familiar, but not quite right. It was lined with rows of aged, three-story townhouses, but not the aged, three-story townhouses I usually passed on the way home. I was off my route, but only slightly. I slung my bag over my shoulder and reoriented myself homewards. The more my mind replayed the last two days, the more I lost control of my feet. Once again, I felt myself taking odd turns southward. Not exactly away from home, but not the fastest route either.
Zeta and Channy. Channy and Zeta. How did I get here?
I tried to tackle Zeta first. Had I done something to lead her on? Had I said something that made her believe that I cared for her? I couldn’t remember anything. There was the book that she’d leant me. I couldn’t remember asking to borrow it. I took it, but I only took it to shut her and Dro up. They were talking more and more about science fiction and I was feeling increasingly exposed. I couldn’t believe that Zeta thought I was flirting. But who knows what I looked like?
I did talk to her about her method. I even brought it up, myself. But she was firmly in my orbit by then. She had invaded my territory already, stealing Gers’ seat on the bus. I couldn’t find evidence that I’d been returning her interest.
While the trajectory of my relationship with Zeta was utterly opaque, I was starting to make sense of my trajectory in Cambridge. Left to my own devices, my feet were heading to MIT. They knew that I needed to talk to Channy. I guess that they’d decided to bring me there. I wasn’t ready to face her. I wasn’t ready to confess. I forcefully turned homewards and resumed walking.
Zeta was hurt. Was it me who'd hurt her? I guess I should have said no yesterday. I shouldn’t have agreed to the date. But I was truly taken aback. It was hard to think in the moment. I couldn’t imagine being admired by any girl as pretty as Zeta. Her attention had obliterated my ability to do the right thing. I resolved that to be more careful in the future. I resolved to end things before they got out of hand. But if another pretty girl tried to get between me and Channy, was it going to be easy?
And what about Channy? Had I already blown that relationship? How could I know when I didn’t understand the relationship to begin with?
Suddenly, I realized where my feet had taken me. Not to MIT at all, but to the spot on which I stood. There I was, on Mass Ave, roughly halfway between MIT and Central square. And there they were: A pair of black, wrought iron benches. In a hushed awe I let my fingers caress them. Without being told, I knew where I was. This was the spot where Channy had collapsed.
I tried to imagine her, running along this sidewalk, the concrete pounding at her tiny, bare feet. I imagined her seeing the benches and flopping down, unable to continue forward. Shoes discarded, bag on the ground, she must have hugged the back of the bench while wailing aloud. I could imagine those heavy glasses tilting slightly off her nose, her bright eyes rubbed red and raw. I imagined a kindly stranger, maybe a woman, kneeling down and touching her shoulder. “Are you alright?” the stranger might have asked. Channy, quiet now, might have turned to the stranger while straightening her glasses, but what would she say? Could she say, “I’ve failed my dreams and now I’m doomed to loneliness?” Could she say “I broke up with my boyfriend?” No, she could only say, “I’ll be alright,” and then drag herself, uncomforted, back to her dorm.
This must have been where Channy mourned losing me. The irony bit hard when, maybe, it was me losing her all along.
I sat down and imagined myself crying, but it wasn’t in me. I opened my phone and flipped through my pictures of her -- smile after smile after smile. By now, she had all kinds of smiles for me, from the serene smile of her yearbook picture to the smug smile over her shoulder to the embarrassed but lovely smile at the Gap. But I had no pictures that allowed me to imagine her breakdown, no pictures without a smile. It was like she didn’t want to let me see that there was such a side of her.
I looked at those smiles. While each was entirely different from the last, they shared one feature: They were filled with faith in me. She let me ask her anything. She told me everything. She cried at the thought of losing me. How could I have come so close to cheating on her? I had done the right thing, canceling with Zeta, but was I too late? Was Channy’s faith in me misplaced?
I tried to envision the upcoming conversation. Would Channy yell at me, and pound her fist like Zeta? No, that's what a kid would do. Channy was an adult. She'd quietly tell me how disappointed she was. She’d tell me that she was wrong about me, that she'd have to leave me. Her dreams would change to show what a cheating jerk I was. I'd go back to being the lonely loser I was before I met her. And all because my head got turned, by some pretty girl. Like Dad with Nina.
The longer I sat there, the colder my feet got. I wondered whether I really had to tell her? I had been lying to so many people for so long -- my mom, my teachers, my friends -- what made Channy any different?
There were too many solid answers to that question.
For starters, there was the murder. We were in this together. We had to do the right thing. How could I ask her to trust me if I hid my near-infidelity? Then there were the dreams. Who knew what she already knew, what she’d already dreamed? If lied to her today and told the truth tomorrow she might have already dreamed it yesterday. And maybe there was another answer. Could I possibly be falling for her? That was too weird to contemplate. I couldn’t think like her, talk like her or act like her. She was, in all ways, superior to me. But I did care about her, in a way that I couldn’t articulate. Maybe the older me was falling for her. And if he was, how could I ruin it for him?
I knew what I had to do.
I gave the bench a quick squeeze, and thanked it for its service. I stood up stiffly and headed back towards my apartment. My steps were lighter and my path more direct. I hadn’t known what I had needed, when I left school, but I had clearly found it. By the time I got home, I felt ready for the conversation ahead.
Once home, I headed towards my Twitter app. But first I had to get past the kitchen.
“Honey, you’re home!” Mom said, a dish in one and and a towel in the other. “I didn’t think you were coming. I don’t even have a movie lined…”
Her voice trailed away as she got a good look at me.
“Are you okay? Is everything okay?”
She had put her arms on my shoulders. I took a deep breath, and then wrapped my arms around her.
“I did the right thing, Mom,” I whispered. “It wasn’t easy, but I did it.”
Gently, she pushed me back so that we could make eye contact. She didn’t say anything, but her teary smile said all that I needed to hear.
“There’s one more thing that I need to do,” I said. “I’m going to take care of it right now.”
“Oh, Ricky,” she whispered, holding me close. “I’m so proud of the man you’re becoming.”
I returned her smile and then pressed through the curtain and into my bedroom.
I took out my phone and re-read her last DM, the one I’d received at lunchtime.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
I'm glad you got away safely.
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The more I looked at this tweet, the less I understood it. Was she referring to Suspect #1 or Zeta? I screwed up my courage and brought out my phone.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
Hey -- are you still working?
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Her response came before I could put the phone away.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
Yes, but I can take a break.
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No “what’s up?” or “how are you?” No question at all. ChannyOne was in firm control at the other end of the connection.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
I guess that it was my turn to think about you.
Did you dream last night?
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
Of course! Every night.
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Yeah, I knew that.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
About me?
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
I thought that you didn’t want to know.
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The minute I read it, I knew that she was right. I didn’t want to know. I already felt like I had too much extra information. I was full from receiving stray facts about Jenny, Mom and countless strangers. I now knew that Channy also struggled with all that extra knowledge. I’d made up my mind that I didn’t want Channy to tell me about the future. But today felt different. I had to know that I hadn’t killed our future already.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
Maybe just this once.
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There was a strange pause, like she was deciding whether she believed me. Then her answer came.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
It was wonderful. I’d guess we were in our 50s.
I may have even been 60.
It was morning and you were reading to me in bed.
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That was strange. Why wouldn't she read for herself? And what made that wonderful?
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
Why was I reading to you?
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
Really, Rick. You shouldn't ask.
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I paused, stuck on that thought. It was clear that I’d already received more information than I’d wanted. Still. She had dreamed about me after I said yes to Zeta. My action hadn't killed those dreams. Although maybe that was just because Channy didn't know about Zeta yet. I took a deep breath, and continued.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
I guess you're right. I don't want to know.
There’s something that I need to tell you.
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Her response came quickly.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
You can tell me anything, Rick.
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Anything. Ask me anything. Tell me anything. I doubt she could guess how uncomfortable she made me.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
Something bad happened today.
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I waited to see how she’d respond. I’m not sure what I was expecting. I felt like I was dancing on the edge a cliff. If I fell off, I'd take her dreams and happiness down with me. I had to make her understand. Any little response would have given me guidance on how to continue. But I got nothing, so I plowed on.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
There's this girl. She asked me out yesterday.
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Still nothing. Her silence grew heavy on me. I couldn’t begin to guess what she was experiencing. Maybe, even now, she was running from the Gap floor to hide in a corner and sob. Heck, she had collapsed on a public bench. Maybe she was crying right there in front of customers while they tried to soothe her.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
I said yes, but I didn't go.
I broke it off before we went anywhere.
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With every passing second, my panic increased. My stomach was turning as I willed her to respond. I felt like there was gulf growing between us. I had to keep sending her DMs until she responded. I had to know what she was thinking.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
Nothing happened.
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The phone buzzed immediately after I hit send.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
Okay
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Her response was infinitely ambiguous. It offered no hint about her state of mind.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
“Okay?”
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There was another long pause, although not as long as the first one.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that.
I'm sure that it was hard for you.
But everything worked out the way it was supposed to.
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The way it was supposed to?
And then it hit me. She wasn't worried about what I'd do. She already knew. She had dreamed this exact moment before. Hell, she had been sending me hints for the last 24 hours -- “You can tell me anything, Rick.”
I could feel anger welling up inside of me.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
You remember this, don't you?
Do you remember this exact confession?
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The wait was short, but painful.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
Yes
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What. The. Hell? Here I was, angsting my head off about what would happen when she already knew. It was worse than that. She had been dropping hints for the last two days, holding that knowledge over me. Full of shame, there was something I needed to know.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
Weren't you afraid that I'd go with her?
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
LOL! I remember where we take our honeymoon.
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Laughing out loud?
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
Wanna guess the name of our firstborn?
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Was she taunting me? She was.
The horrible, smug ChannyOne was out in full force. Smug? It was beyond smug. It was offensive. It was dehumanizing. How could my free-will mean so little to her? A haze of anger descended across my field of vision. The sounds from the kitchen faded. I dropped the phone like it was on fire, being burnt by the demon at the other end.
I needed out. I needed to put some distance between me and the girl who saw me as her puppet, as a character in the movie playing nightly in her head.
I was dimly aware of Mom as I walked out the door. I was barely aware of the door itself. I charged out of the apartment, out of the building. I was across the highway before I even knew where I was. The background meant nothing to me as I moved, single-mindedly, forward.
A loud, blaring horn suddenly jolted me back to the world around me. With a certain amount of chagrin, I took in my surroundings. Behind me, four lanes worth of traffic were powering along the highway I’d just crossed. I stood on the curb, surrounded by the noise and movement, acknowledging my near-death experience. But I was here, now, and I had to walk. Setting my back to MIT, and the horror that lived there, I walked along the river towards Harvard.
As I walked, it dawned on me how underdressed I was. In the forty-degree weather, I had no coat, no gloves and no hat. The air chilled my body and flaming rage. Within a few blocks, my anger had cooled. I knew, now, that Channy had the ability to draw out my anger. In the future, I was sure that I would again be angry with Channy. But as it receded I felt only confusion.
I couldn’t understand her. I guess that I‘d never really understood her and that scared me as much as it confused me. Why should she waste time on a little twerp like me? Why was she willing to share so much of herself with me? And why was she so sure that I couldn’t be lured away from her?
None of it made sense, and this confusion increasingly took the place of my anger. By now, I was by the Harvard dorms along the highway. The footbridge over the river loomed up ahead of me. Although my teeth were chattering, that bridge seemed like the perfect place for standing and thinking
I mounted the bridge and walked to the center. Resting my arms on the concrete ledge, I peered down into the river. The river was mostly white ice, reflecting the light pollution from the city. Directly below me was a patch of black water, melted by the heat emanating from the bridge itself. I looked into the water, expecting to see that smug smile. But I didn't.
I saw Jenny.
I didn’t know what to make of her. I thought about Jenny and our relationship. Jenny, who was proud of my math accomplishments. Jenny who always had a kind word for everyone. Jenny whose thoughts I too frequently heard. And then, it was as if the dawn broke. I understood what my subconscious was trying to tell me. Over the past year, I’d become increasingly sensitive to the troubled girl hiding behind Jenny Sunshine. I had come to understand that her effulgent smile was just a bandaid over a gaping wound.
I thought about Channy.
Differentiating among ChannyOne, ChannyTwo and ChannyThree had become so commonplace that I almost didn’t stop to think about it. ChannyOne was the face she showed to the world. Even I, her alleged future husband, mostly had to deal with ChannyOne. Even I had to work to get Two out. And Three was almost completely hidden.
Who had “laughed out loud” at the thought that I would ever stray? Surely ChannyOne. What would ChannyThree think? She would be scared. She was the one who collapsed on that bench. She was the one who could fear that some pretty girl would turn my head the way Nina did to Dad. ChannyOne would laugh at the thought of it, because that was her defense mechanism. Any other reaction would be too horrible for that shallow girl to contemplate. My shivering hand reached for its phone but it wasn’t with me. Alone, and unable to communicate, I was suddenly overwhelmed with what must be happening to Channy.
Carefully, I crossed Mem Drive at the light. Once across, I broke into a run. I needed to be home, where my phone was, where Twitter was. Even with all of my weekly power walks, I wasn’t able to keep up the pace. I soon fell into a piteous lope. I half-ran, half-staggered the rest of the way. I arrived at home with labored breath and my heart pounding in my chest.
And, of course, without my keys.
I rang the bell and waited, suffering out on the stoop. Mom flung open the door and shouted at me. I didn’t hear or understand her. I pushed my way past her and into the apartment.
“Are you crazy?” she shrieked, “you could catch pneumonia out there!”
“I’m sorry, Mom, I’m sorry,” I gasped. “It’s been a horrible night. I need to talk to her.”
“Did you run out to see her?” Mom asked, softening a little, as she grasped my elbow.
“No. I just ran. But I have to talk now. She scared me and I’m ready to talk to her.”
“Ricky, honey. I hope that someday you’ll trust me and tell me everything. You know that I’ll be there for you. But for now, just promise me that you aren’t hurting her and you’re not letting her hurt you.”
“I promise Mom, I promise,” I said. I hoped that it was so.
I stumbled through the curtains and collapsed on my mattress. I found my phone, next to the bed, and turned it on. There were a string of DMs waiting. The earlier messages were more than ten minutes apart. But they had been increasing in frequency. At first, they were clearly ChannyOne.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
You’re mad at me. I can tell.
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But as I scrolled past several more, I found ChannyTwo, and her questions.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
Where are you, Rick? I need to talk to you.
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The phone buzzed while I held it in my hands.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
God damn you, Rick, don’t do this to me!
I need you!
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I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
I need you too, Channy.
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The following short seconds of silence were unbearable.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
I’m a mess.
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It came with a jpeg, which I immediately opened. Channy and her unkempt GAP outfit were slumped in the corner of a utility closet. Tears had caused scant make-up to run. Her face was a lurid mask of clownlike unhappiness. I laughed at the photo, until I couldn’t hold back the tears. I don’t know how much time passed before I was aware of Mom, hovering in front of the curtains. I closed the photo, guiltily, and looked up at her.
“Is it over?” she asked gently, perching herself next to me on the mattress.
“I’m not sure that it’s even begun. But it’s not over,” I stumbled.
Mom sat and put her arms around me.
“If she can make you cry like this, it’s certainly begun. And it’s okay to care about people, Rick. It’s great that you care about her. The only alternative is to cut yourself out from society. It's better this way.”
She held me close, gently massaging my back.
“But take care of yourselves. I know you deserve it and I bet she does, too.”
I nodded but couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what either of us deserved. When Mom left, I reached out to Channy for the last time that night.
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**Rick Smith
@LittleTwerp
I needed that picture.
I’ll treasure it more than all of the others.
Goodnight, Channy.
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**Channing
@MyFakeWife
I wish that my dreams had told me so.
Goodnight, Ricky.
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