Page 56 of Expressionate
Depression
SuicidePrevention
I ignore the last two points under the title and focus on the first. Something in my gut tells me that Lawrence isn't exactly as nice as he seems to be. He never returned my phone calls from before. Trish talks about him less and less. Maybe he's not hitting her, but she's not happy. That's when my eyes do move towards the lower points. Is shedepressed?
After several moments of fingering the edges of the paper, I fold it and put it back in my pocket. I know she won't take it if I hand it over directly, but maybe I could just slip it into her bag or something. Maybe leave it on the table. I shake my head. I'll figure itout.
I start across the lawn in front of the library and head back toward the middle of the campus where the student union building stands like an arching tower. I march that way, my head down, my earbuds firmly back in. Even after killing over thirty minutes at the library, when I arrive at the Java Shop, I'm early. I shrug off my sweater and stop at the register, ordering a vanilla latte for Trish and a green tea formyself.
In the back corner of the shop, I stop at a table for two, setting the latte down on one side and my green tea on the other. Several minutes later, Trish comes storming into the shop – a bag slung over one shoulder with a sweater dangling over the open clasp of it. When she sees me, her eyes zone in on the latte in relief. Collapsing into the seat across from me, she lifts the cup to her lips, inhaling half the contents in one gulp. Her sweater falls off, sliding into the corner of the seat as sheshifts.
Setting down her cup, Trish sighs. “Guess who called me as I was leaving,” she sayssharply.
“Um… Lawrence?” Iguess.
She shakes her head. “Nope. Fucking Mom. Something is up with her. It’s like she has Love senses, like she knows when I’m coming to see you. I don’t know what’s goingon.”
“Oh?” I sip my green tea slowly. The flier in my pocket is heavy. My thoughts on Tax areheavier.
Trish catches my eye. “Something is up with her. I’ve decided not to answer her calls for the time being. If she calls you, I’d suggest you don’t answereither.”
“You know she’s going to call me if she can’t get ahold of you,” I remindher.
She groans, closing her eyes. “Well, I have to do something. It can’t keep going on like this.” I open my mouth, but she shakes her head. “No, never mind. I shouldn’t have brought her up. I know you guys have your issues. I don’t want to talk about her anymore. Let’s talk about somethingelse.”
“Oh, well…” I glance to the side, my eyes catching on the window, watching the people outside walking by. “I’m…um…datingsomeone.”
Trish leans forward propping her elbows on the small café table between us. “Who – oh my God! Is it the neighbor? The blond?” She scrunches her nose. “He’s a player, Love, he was with yourroommate!”
“What?” I jerk my gaze back to her,confused.
“The guy?” She takes the stopper out of her travel cup and points at me with it. “The blond one with the tattoos. The one talking up and down your roommate? He was there the first time Ivisited.”
“No,” I shake my head. “Definitely not.” I’m not even sure if Cross likes me. “But I am kind of seeing hisroommate.”
“Roommate?”
Seriously? Was she not paying attention that night? “The dark haired one? He has a sister living with them. His name isTax.”
“Oh?” She lowers the coffee stopper and lifts a brow at me. “And?”
“And what?” I bite my lip and lookaway.
She huffs. “Come on, give medetails!”
I shrug. “We’redating.”
“And what else? Do you like him? Is henice?”
“I wouldn’t be dating him if I didn’t like him,” I say, looking back ather.
She shoots me a glare as she lifts her cup to herlips.
I blow out a breath. “Okay, yeah, I like him,” I pause before adding, “alot.”
Trish’s eyes widen, and she leans forward. “Wow, that’s high praise coming from you.” My phone buzzes in mypocket.
“He makes me feel…” I lower my gaze to my lap, a flush rushing up over my cheeks. Is this what I wanted? It feels good to talk about him, but embarrassment is quicklysurfacing.
