EMOTIONAL DISTANCE

June

Adrienne was pulling out of her road onto Route 7 when she saw the Montelli Pools van drive by. Her heart skipped. She checked the time. 8:34 am. She decided to follow the van because she could get away with being a little late to work.

The van pulled into a Dunkin Donuts parking lot. Adrienne knew she was doing something stupid but she turned in after it and parked. The van was struggling to fit into the space and had to back up to readjust. When its lights turned off, the van's wheels were still over one of the white lines. Adrienne witnessed all of this from her rearview mirror.

When the door opened, she held her breath. A middle-aged man climbed out. He had a New York Italian look to him. He pulled up his loose jeans and sauntered towards the store. He was probably the uncle. She felt strange to see a possible relative and not even know it—not even have a clue what his uncle actually looked like.

She put the car in reverse and drove to work.

Paul was in Loyola's dining hall at a table with two other sophomores when he got a text. They were all talking about the highly anticipated Dune film release and whether it was worth reading the book first.

"It's a little bit 'meh'," said one of them.

Paul was invested in the conversation when it had started but they were all finished with their pre-packaged lunch and still on the same subject. He took out his phone. It was from Adrienne.

I saw the montelli van drive down rt 7 this morning. Was it you?

He put his phone back in his pocket without responding and played with his green Loyola lanyard in his hands. "Don't wear it around your neck," Bobby had told him. "That's how we spot freshmen from a mile away."

/

Later that night the Orientation Team set up a foam party on the pavilion. He snapped a picture of the crowded dance floor with clouds of foam pouring out from a machine overhead.

He texted her back, No I'm in Baltimore at orientation! and attached the photo.

When he looked back at the dance floor, the cute blonde from North Carolina he met on the walk over waved at him. He put his phone in his sling bag and joined her.

/

Paul's left arm was asleep when he woke up. He was pressed up against the cold cinderblock wall painted white, in a twin-sized bed next to a girl he met at the tail end of the night when his orientation group was in the quad passing around flasks of tequila and vodka.

He tried to climb over her and get off the bed without waking her up.

"You snored all night," the girl said. Her face was flushed from lack of sleep.

"No I didn't," he said. He massaged his arm to get the blood flowing.

"Shh!"

There was a girl in the adjacent twin bed. She had bright orange ear plugs in her ears and a velvet eye mask on her forehead. She glared at Paul before pulling the mask back over her eyes.

Paul left the room. He had no idea where he was or how he got there. Halfway down the dormitory hall, he realized he was missing his bag and phone. He retraced his steps and tried the handle of the door he thought he'd walked out of. It was locked. He knocked lightly—no answer. He knocked a little louder—still nothing.

For a minute, he stood there, rubbing his arm, looking left to right. He didn't know what to do. He felt paralyzed. The thought of telling his friends that his orientation ended with him fully clothed and snoring in a girl's bed, then forgot his phone in said girl's room, was fucking pathetic. Little snippets of making out with the girl came back to him, and maybe her hand in his pants, but he couldn't get it up.

God, he was so embarrassed. The feeling forced a knot in his stomach and then he vomited churned up hot dogs on the hallway's dirty, olive green carpet.

"What the—EW! OH MY GOD!" The girl had finally opened the door. She gagged at the sight and went to close the door but Paul stopped it.

"My bag," he said. His chin felt wet.

She picked his bag off the floor and threw it at him.

After he cleaned up his face and rinsed his mouth in the sink, he found his way outside, back to the quad. He felt like the only one awake in the entire campus.

When he took out his phone, he had a text. It was from Adrienne—sent twelve minutes ago at 7:08 am. Hope you're having fun!!

/

Adrienne wasn't going to respond to his photo, but she woke up thinking about it and decided to respond. Now, it was almost lunchtime and he hadn't texted back. She felt stupid.

As she looked up from her phone, her manager was watching her. The office was always half-empty, but since Adrienne was still new, she was required to be in during the same times as her manager.

The woman got up from her desk and started walking across the room towards her. Fuck, Adrienne thought. She was going to get reprimanded for using her phone. She checked the time. It was a minute to one o'clock.

"Sorry, I was just about to go for lunch," said Adrienne.

"No problem." The woman stopped with a good amount of distance from Adrienne's desk. "I just wanted to ask—you went to Bucknell?"

"Yeah."

Her manager sighed happily. "My son is going there next year."

"Your son?"

"Yes, my oldest, Henry."

Oldest, Adrienne thought. Then she realized her manager was waiting for a reaction. "Oh, that's great. Congrats to him. He'll love it."

"Thank you. I know he will, but I think he's anxious about going. I was thinking, well if you don't mind, that Henry could ask you some questions? I think he'd feel better hearing from an alumna."

"Of course," she said, feigning enthusiasm.

"Perfect! Is it okay if I give him your number?"

"Yeah. Of course." She sounded like a robot.

As her manager walked away, Adrienne just continued working. She wasn't hungry anymore.

Her hunger returned that night in an unreasonable way where all she wanted was a mint chocolate chip milkshake. On the drive back to her apartment, as she was tapping the steering wheel to Top 40 on the radio with one hand and holding a medium-sized shake in the other, she got a phone call. The unknown number lit up the dashboard screen. She ended the call immediately, assuming it was a telemarketer.

A minute later, she had a voicemail waiting. She let it play over the bluetooth speakers. "Hi Miss Weiss, this is uh, Henry Stiller. My mom gave me your number and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about Bucknell. Please give me a call at your earliest convenience. Thank you."

For a second, she thought it was Paul. The voice sounded the same, only Henry's was much more formal—addressing her as an elder, not as a peer. Imagine Paul calling her Miss Weiss, asking her to call him at her "earliest convenience".

Her milkshake wouldn't satisfy her anymore. She put it in the cupholder and gripped the wheel with both hands to make it feel like she was concentrating on driving.

This voicemail was what she needed to reassure herself that ending it with Paul was the best decision, but it also made her sad.

She parked, turned off the engine, and picked up her phone. Paul still hadn't responded. She stared at the picture he sent yesterday. Teenagers laughing, dancing, standing awkwardly with Loyola branded bags as soapy bubbles floated around them. Her own orientation felt like it was fifty years ago.

She pressed call and waited as the phone rang through the bluetooth speakers.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Henry? It's Adri--Miss Weiss."

"Oh, hi Miss Weiss. Thanks for calling me back so quickly."

"No worries. Congrats on getting into Bucknell. You're going to love it there."  

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*Photo by https://unsplash.com/@tomterifx