Free Carrie Pilby by Caren Lissner

I…’”
    â€œYes?” His eyes were closed.
    I couldn’t finish.
    â€œCome on,” he said. “Go ahead.”
    â€œDavid,” I said.
    Then I said no more.
    He sat up again. “Is this it?”
    â€œI…”
    â€œIs that the best you can do? You’re not even going to try?”
    I just looked at him.
    â€œOne compromise?”
    It just didn’t fit.
    â€œDidn’t I teach you? Didn’t I say it over and over? Why can’t you learn it?”
    I didn’t know what to say to that.
    â€œIs it such a hard thing to learn?”
    Finally I said, “It’s not something I would say.”
    â€œBut you can learn. ”
    â€œWe’re not in class.”
    â€œJust say it!”
    I looked at the rug. “It wouldn’t be me…. ”
    â€œDo you always have to be such a goddamn prude?”
    Before I could say anything else, he jumped up, stalked into the bathroom and shut the door. I sat still on the rug and suddenly felt very cold.
    He came back out in a minute and said he’d drive me home.
    We rode to my dorm in silence. He didn’t say anything when I got out of the car.
    In my room, I curled up in my bed in the dark and stared at the phone, sure he’d call. I rehearsed various speeches in my mind, speeches in which I would tell him that maybe there was a way we could get past this, that maybe there were things he wouldn’t say, either, if I asked, that I had already made compromises and that I’d been happy to make them for him, but this was something that bothered me. And if we couldn’t get past this, I wanted to say why it was hard for me to yield to his request.
    But I never got the chance to say any of it. He didn’t call.
    The only time the two of us did talk was in class, when all of us were discussing the reading materials. That was it.
    The semester eventually drew to a close. He and I never had another personal conversation.
    I got an A in the class. I guess David would have been afraid to give me anything less.
    By the way, I deserved it anyhow.
    Â 
    For a long time after that, I had trouble seeing couples kissing on campus. Their lives were so normal; why did mine always have to be strange? Did these carefree couples know that for some people, not everything worked out so neatly? Did they appreciate that?
    The worst was, I knew a lot of the couples were together just for sex. At least David and I talked about books, music and his work. What did these people who did nothing all day but face-mash actually talk about? Some of the girls on my floor had boyfriends whose biggest accomplishment was making fifth-string lacrosse or flunking astronomy.
    The rest of my time at Harvard wasn’t much of an improvement. I studied hard, graduated and moved into the apartment my father found for me.
    Â 
    Now that I’ve just spent some time thinking about the relationship with David, I feel sore and unfulfilled, similar to how I often felt after the encounters themselves.
    So I go out to the supermarket to grab some ice cream and rainbow sprinkles.
    I wend my way through the murky city air and into the perfume-and-garlic world of D’Agostino. I pluck a frosty pint of Cherry Garcia from the freezer, and as I’m pacing the aisles, I pick up sprinkles and cherry soda, too.
    Once I get home, I make an ice-cream soda. The fizz bubbles high above the glass. When I taste it, I immediately realizeI shouldn’t have been denying it to myself for so long. The ice cream slides down my throat into my gut. It feels absolutely wonderful. There is nothing better than this.
    I pass a mirror on the way back into my room and notice that my lips have turned red.

Chapter Four
    In the morning, I’m depressed. I don’t know what to do. I have another appointment with Petrov. This probably won’t help. But maybe it will.
    The sidewalk is soggy, but the sun is out. I keep my eyes on the ground, feeling just