The Brink of Destruction

It was like watching a well-oiled machine. Wynn's brother was getting married, and she was packing to go home for the weekend. Stacked on the bed were five or six complete outfits, and a mysterious garment bag hung on the closet door.

"So, what's the dress look like?" I asked. "Is it a typical bridesmaid fashion nightmare?"

She rolled her eyes, laughing. "No, thank God. His girlfriend decided on black, grey and white, and it's simple but classy. I think I may even be able to wear the thing again to the APO spring formal--assuming I make it through rush, of course!"

Both she and I had decided to pledge Alpha Phi Omega, and we were loving it. Now, before you get the wrong idea, let me state the obvious--neither of us are Greek material. But APO isn't a sorority, it's a service fraternity, and every member, male or female, is a "brother." Lots of fun, minimo snobbery. Just clearing that up.

Right now we'd been broken into pledge teams, each with a different community service project. My group was repainting the gym of a Boy's Club, and Wynn's was winterizing houses for elderly folks. Once the work was done, though, and we'd made it through initiation, we'd be able to celebrate at the formal--the one bow to civilized society our motley group would tolerate.

"Are you going to be able to get Mike in a monkey suit for that?" I teased. "He'll do it for you, the old softie, but I bet he'll be tugging at his tie all night!"

"Hey, I may just tell him to take it off!" she laughed.

"The suit?"

"Fun-ny! So what are your plans for the weekend?" She had tucked everything into the suitcase with amazing precision and was zipping it up.

"Work, another Lit paper, study for midterms, and then probably a lot of sleep. Oh, and a phone call I don't really want to make."

She paused, her smile fading, and sat on the edge of the bed. "So you're going to call him?"

"I've been agonizing over it all week, but that's what I keep coming back to. It feels like the right thing to do."

"How do you think he'll take it--does he suspect anything?"

"I don't know of any reason he would. He doesn't really get angry about things, but I think he will be hurt. And surprised."

"And you're sure about this?"

"Yeah."

"I mean, really sure? I don't want to sound like a mother hen or anything, but I'm just wondering if you might be closing a door you won't be able to open again," she shrugged, trying to make it sound casual.

"I don't think so. When I think about him now, it's like thinking about a good friend, but nothing else. He's so sweet, and treats me like a princess. I don't know, maybe I don't feel like I deserve that."

"Would you feel different if he wasn't so nice?" I glanced up at her, and though her eyes were full of innocence, it wasn't hard to catch what she was saying between the lines.

"Maybe, but that wouldn't be him. He's just not a mean person."

"Well, I'm not really saying he should be mean...maybe just..."

"Wilder?" I offered.

"There go those terms," she grinned.

"You don't miss much, do you?" I asked. "Am I nuts, Wynn? I just feel like I'm not the same person I was a couple of months ago, and maybe it's crazy to think you can really change that much in such a short time."

"Maybe this was you all along, and you just didn't have a chance to find out until you got here. Or maybe you needed someone to open you up to that side of yourself."

"You've definitely pulled me out from under my rock!" I agreed.

"Actually, I wasn't talking about me." She was looking at me the way Mike did sometimes, not challenging, just waiting for me to understand.

"Do you think this is about Billie?" I asked. "God, I hope not. He's--he--"

"He's gorgeous, isn't he?" she said, her eyebrows raised.

"Yes, dammit!" It was such a relief just to say it. "But it's not just that. I feel so free when I'm with him, like I've taken off a pair of tight shoes. I never worry about trying to be ladylike, or what the neighbors back home would think, or any of that. I just am, and that's enough."

"How does that fit into your plans after you graduate? I mean, if things happened to work out with the two of you." she said carefully.

Busted. She'd made the point I was hoping we could avoid. The truth was that being with Billie--living in the moment and without regrets--and having the discipline to make it through med school, were mutually exclusive. I couldn't see how he would ever be willing to live that kind of life, and wasn't even sure I wanted to anymore. But if I did, then the only person who would make sense would be Dustin...

"We don't have to talk about that right now, do we? You just go home and enjoy the wedding, and tell Logan and Stephanie I said 'mazal tov'!"

She gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek, and then looked right into my eyes with those big baby blues of hers.

"You know I'm gonna be here for you no matter what, right?" she said, holding up her fist toward me.

I balled my hand up and bumped it against hers. "All the way to jail and screaming, 'Damn that was fun'!"

When she closed the door behind her, the silence was deafening.

One ringy dingy...two ringy dingies...

His voice when he answered his phone was so happy and excited that it stabbed my conscience. I knew he was glad to see my number on the ID, and it made it that much harder to do this awful thing.

There's no need to rehash every word. It's enough to say that after some small talk, I told him I had something important to ask him. I mouthed vaguely about being so far apart, about new friends and less in common, and I apologized--too profusely, I think now--for the changes I admitted I was going through. He questioned himself; I reassured him that he was wonderful, because it was true. He offered compromises--transfer, weekend flights--that were pleas in disguise. I murmured one counterpoint after another, and finally there was nothing left but the sound of our breathing across those many miles.

"Gen, I still love you," he said, and the shock and disbelief in his voice tore my heart to pieces.

"I love you, too, Dustin," I told him, and then caught myself. It wasn't right to say it out of habit. "It's just that the way I love you has changed. And that's my fault, not yours. I think I'll look back one day and realize that I was very stupid and selfish to let you go. But I don't think it's right not to be honest with you."

And that's pretty much how it ended. I took his heart and threw it on the ground, and made a fucking hypocrite of myself talking about honesty.

Because the whole time, I never mentioned Billie's name.

****************

"Wild Bill's Whorehouse, Mike speaking!"

My voice was breaking up, and I could barely understand myself. "Mike, c-could I sp-speak t-"

"Gen, honey, what's wrong?" He was genuinely alarmed.

"I'm o-okay," I hitched, "but I n-need to talk t-to Billie, okay?"

For just a second I thought he'd gone to get his roommate, then I heard his voice, low and soft as though he didn't want to be heard.

"Genny, if he's done something to hurt you, all you have to do is tell me. He's my friend, but I'll fuck him up if he's done anything to make you cry."

My hero.

"No, really. I'm--I'm okay. Even if it d-doesn't sound like it."

He hesitated one last time. "Okay, I'll get him for you. But if you need me..."

"I will. Mike, thanks. You're amazing."

"You too, sugar." And then, from further away, "Billieeee! Phone!"

I pressed my fingertips against my stinging eyes and tried to make my breathing more even. I wasn't even sure what I was going to say to him, but I knew I had to hear his voice.

"Billie speaking."

Any composure I had mustered fell apart, and I started to sob.

"Billie, I-I'm so sorry, but I n-need to talk to you. I--"

He stopped me before I could finish. "I'm on my way."

As the dial tone blatted in my ear, I sank down on the bed and poured my anguish into my pillow.

Poor Davy Jones.