I switched the shower back on. "I have to go. I have to go to school."
"I won't stop you," he answered. But then, after a slight pause, he signed, "This time."
Wow. Threaten much?
But at least he finally left me alone in the bathroom. I got showered and dressed and even managed to throw on some lip gloss and foundation in record time. Victor wasn't in the bedroom when I got out of the shower. After I got downstairs, I hastily scarfed down a microwave breakfast burrito. And I swear I could hear him kicking around in the overhead guest room I sometimes used as an office.
He wasn't bothering me exactly. But his "this time" would definitely hang over my head today. If not for the rest of the semester.
This is why I so didn't need Elizabeth Ann Margaret to approach me right after Monday's seminar. The first part of our main thesis production class took place right before lunch. Jacoby had already split, probably to go suck on his vaporizer outside. And everyone else in the amphitheater where our small grad class met was either pulling out the lunches they'd brought from home or making plans to grab something either on or off-campus during the hour break.
I planned to walk over to Harry's Bar and Burger to pick up a couple of their famous sliders. Maybe eat all my WTF feelings with a side order of sweet potato fries and wash down all my WTH-am-I-going-to-do-now confusion with a root beer.
But here was Elizabeth Ann Margaret, blocking the aisle and not wanting me to be great.
"Hey, Dawn," she said, cocking her head to the side like she was the super princess in her frankly not very experimental thesis animation, and I was the pitiful grub she felt sorry for.
"I just wanted to say how sorry I am about what happened a few weeks ago," she started to say, her voice dripping in dramatic regret. "You didn't come to Asher's house party on Saturday. I hope that didn't have anything to do with Asher or me."
She glanced over my shoulder, and I knew she was probably looking at Asher, who sat two rows up from me and could probably hear every word she was saying. I'd forgotten all about the house party he and his roommates threw on Saturday, even though Asher had invited me face-to-face.
"It's fine. I was just busy on Saturday," I answered quickly. "I was hoping to grab some lunch before the second part of class if you don't mind getting out of the way."
Elizabeth Ann Margaret stayed right where she was and continued blocking the aisle as if I'd said nothing, "I guess I got carried away because I've known you for ages now. But it doesn't feel like I know you at all. You know?"
"Maybe there's nothing to know," I answered. At the same time, I reminded myself that rich girls like Elizabeth Ann Margaret always sued when you punched them in the mouth.
"So, does that mean you're not really married?" Her remorse morphed into avid curiosity. "Come on, you can tell me."
"Why?" I asked, just as loud as she was speaking. "So you can tell anybody who asks about me all my business?"
Elizabeth Ann Margaret had the nerve to look hurt. "I'm not trying to gossip. I just don't think it's right pretending to be something you're not."
"And what exactly do you think I'm pretending to be?" I asked. "Because the last time I checked, the only thing I've ever passed myself off as was hard-working."
"Hey, girls. There's no need to fight," Asher said from two rows up. "We'll probably all feel better after we have some lunch."
Elizabeth Ann Margaret glared at him. Then addressed the rest of the class. "So no one else thinks this situation is a little weird? I mean, she's this cool, untouchable, mysterious character. It's like she's trying to get us to ask all the questions about her. But then she acts all snitty when any of us want to know about the husband we've never seen. And the huge house she lives in all alone."
"C'mon, stop, Elizabeth Ann Margaret," Asher said. "You're out of line. She's allowed to have secrets if she wants to. It's none of our business."
"So you're just completely on her side?" Elizabeth Ann Margaret asked him. This time she honestly did look hurt. "Even though she's told us nothing real about herself and as long as I've known her?"
I cast my eyes to the side, annoyed and empathetic at the same time. My life wasn't my own for most of my 20s, but I watched TV. Lots of it. Elizabeth Ann Margaret wasn't as talented as she wanted to be. And she was approaching an age where her biological time clock was telling her that if she couldn't have the career she wanted, she should at least try for a stable relationship.
