A Productive Study Session

The study rooms on the first floor of Pembarton hall are so much smaller than they really should be. Or at least, than they feel that they should be. Like, let’s be honest, it’s not like, well, anyways, it’s simply a bit cramped. And I notice, as I sit, waiting for my study buddies and staring blankly at a notebook full of useless notes. To be clear, normally they aren’t really useless, but Abdul is supposed to be bringing the coffee. He always has the good stuff and I’m out for the moment. I’ve mostly been mooching off of Therese, Val, and Ruth for the last month. Getting new coffee isn’t too hard, but getting up the effort to walk all the way across town to the small general stuff store that carries the nicest coffee in the area has been hard, especially considering how easy it is for me to mooch coffee off of all the people around here. College, amirite?

Anyways. That’s unimportant, I scold myself, turning my attention back to my notes. We’ve got a massive test next week, and I need to know all this by then. No, not all this. I pull out my study guide. Only, like, ninety percent of it. Great. I begin the process of my studying prep. I look over the first question, then skim my notes until I find the day when that one was covered, then put the day on the study guide. That way, I will associate the question and answer with the same thing. Hopefully. I get the first question done, after a little time.

Abdul walks in, bearing coffee. “Don’t you dare complain about this one, Irene. We didn’t have any time set in stone. This was more of an option than a plan,” he preempts.

“Thanks for the coffee,” I say without replying, taking the coffee instead.

Abdul stands a moment, waiting for something. I don’t know what. I’m working, going through my notes. Then, sitting down, he doesn’t pull out his stuff. “What’s up with you?” he asks.

“Hmm.” I stop doing the skimming. Dang it, I’m probably going to have to start all over. “What do you mean?”

“You let me slide, which only means two things, you want to chat or something’s wrong.” Then, gesturing at me in general he adds, “And it obviously isn’t one of those two.”

I look up at him. He’s genuinely concerned. Which means he’s not just guessing. That’s less than ideal. If he can figure it out, then there’s no way she’s gonna be able to hide it from anyone else. Well, the small group of anyones who matter. Who she’d want to hide it from. “It’s, well, just,” I begin. Then I stop myself. That’s silly, I don’t want to bring Abdul in on my shit. We’re not really that kind of friend. We keep our conversations lighter, more fun, more focused on the terrible things happening in everyone else’s lives. “It’s nothing, I’m just focused.”

“Yeah, sure you are,” Abdul chortles at that incredulously. “Come on, I love the gossip. What is it?”

“Not gossip, that’s for sure.”

Abdul nods. “Of course, my lips are sealed,” he says, making a zipping motion across his mouth in mock seriousness.

“As a dam with a hole in it,” I mutter.

Abdul objects. “Hey, when we figured that thing out about,” he looked around, before continuing vaguely, “About our friend and our older acquaintance, I didn’t tell nobody.”

“You told Therese and Greg.”

Abdul dismisses that one. “They were together and I needed you to see Ter confirm it.”

“Therese,” I correct him. It really shouldn’t be this hard for people to remember that.

“So you admit they don’t count. Now spill,” Abdul presses. He’s right, I suppose. Sharing secrets that Therese already knows with her doesn’t count. And she can’t honestly expect him to keep his best friend out of the loop. Not everyone’s close friendships are like her and Therese’s. Unfortunately for everyone else, giggling giddily when you know secrets that your best friend doesn’t really is the best feeling.

But in any case, the point is he’s right. “Fine.” It’s my turn to look around. The cramped room is also right up against the main hallway down Pembarton, and abuts two separate dorm rooms. With dorm room quality walls. “So you know that thing I’ve talked about a few times? That thing that isn’t a thing, and I don’t want to nor can afford to become a thing?”

“That thing that you’ve been distinctly and intensely not doing on and off for almost a year now?”

I strongly object to his assessment. “Not even. Eight, going on nine months maybe. Ten if you count that one thing over the summer, but I don’t because that was a whole different animal and supposed to definitely be a one off.” I mean, come on, I’m not generally this hard on timing, but a year ago I didn’t even know that she’d, well, anyways, let’s just say his timeline doesn’t make any sense and leave it as that.

“Fine, that thing you’ve been intensely enjoying not doing on and off, over and over again, for almost nine months now, ten if you count that thing over the summer that you don’t count because you don’t believe in hindsight?” Abdul corrects himself with a smirk.

“Thank you,” I joke right back. “But yeah. It isn’t a thing. You and I both know that. And it’s never going to be a thing because of…” I trail off trying to think of a reasonable, vague way to explain that my best friend is an evil genius who has plans for everyone and I am one as well, but not quite as good as her, and so if she starts to think that there’s a problem with my decision making, I don’t know what’ll happen but I’m sure it won’t be great.

“Because you’re not an idiot,” Abdul offers, knowing roughly what I’m thinking, if not the specifics. He does oft struggle with a similar sort of thing, with Greg being his bestie. “And it’s a bit of a, how do I put this gently…” He trails off, apparently in thought, before restarting his statement, “It’s somehow got bigger serial killer energy than either of our emotionally distant besties with obsessive tendencies and rage problems.”

I laugh at that. He’s not wrong, mostly. “Hey,” I joke, “Therese doesn’t have rage problems. She has rage solutions.”

Abdul laughs at that. “Alright, so that thing that isn’t a thing and we know won’t become a thing,” he says to get me back on track. He really does want to know what’s up.

“Yeah, well, even though it won’t be a thing, I’m starting to think that it thinks it is a thing. Or at least that it will be a thing if it keeps happening?”

“Might that be because you keep doing not it, like consistently?” Abdul offers, “Have you considered not doing not it? Maybe even doing something else entirely.”

“But I do enjoy the not a thing,” I counter, “And it’s so much work to set up something else to do entirely.”

Abdul looks at me incredulously. He then overtly and mockingly drifts his eyes up and down my body, before saying, “You sure about that?”

“Shut up.” I counter.

Abdul smiles even wider. “I’m just saying.”

“And I’m just saying shut up.” I shake my head at him as I start to look at the study guide again. Focusing on my work always helps keep my mind off of my life. “So, I was planning on going through the guide question by question to figure out the days each one was talked about.”

Abdul shakes his head and offers up instead. “If it makes you feel any better, Jorge broke up with me.”

I look at him. He seems less upset about it happening than that it happened. “Really,” I ask, “If you don’t mind, what happened?”

“What do you think?”

I look at him. He knows what I have been thinking is going to happen with this one for a few months now. “So, how’d he find out?” I ask instead.

“Parents texted me about changing the meal plan for the upcoming month,” he explains, “Then Jorge just went off on me about lying all this time and hiding things about myself.”

“Sorry, man. But, it is Jorge we’re talking about here,” I say, “You sure it was the lying about your secret that set him off, and not just the secret itself?”

Abdul sighs, shaking his head. “I’d like to think better of people,” he says.

I give him a look. “Just saying, you did keep it from him for a reason.”

Abdul shakes his head. “I keep it from pretty much all of them,” he states.

“For like a month. This one is different and you know it.”

Abdul groans. “Yeah, I know.” He shakes his head. “If I’m real honest about it, I think it was like fifty-fifty.”

I breathe out deeply. “Well, that sucks. Though you’ll get over it, find someone new.”

Abdul smiles. “Of course I’m gonna. Have you seen me? I’m sexy as fuck and well educated. Now who does that remind me of?” He stares at me, that stupid grin on his face.

I shrug. “Unfortunately, ever since Katie’s accident, Greg’s kinda been out of the dating scene,” I joke.

Once more, Abdul groans. “Don’t even joke about that,” he complains, “You know how hard I’ve been trying to get him to go out and work off some of that pent up stress.”

I smile widely. Oh, he has trouble with his friend. “Oh, no,” I say through my shit-eating-grin, “I have no idea how much work goes into trying to convince an uncooperative friend to deal with their pent up stresses in a healthy manner.”

He chuckles, then waves me off. “Ter doesn’t get pent up. She just stalks someone then is fine. Besides, isn’t she, you know?”

“Therese, and no, I don’t. Do you?”

He cocks his head. “You don’t? I mean, I don’t think about it at all, because in my head she’s both terrifying, and the child I knew vaguely freshman year. But still, I coulda sworn.”

“Guessing things about Therese is a great way to end up wrong and in a small book of people to fill ditches.” I’m only really half joking. That book definitely exists, though I doubt just guessing about her sexuality would get your name written in it.

Abdul smiles. “Oof, can’t let that happen. Manual labor doesn’t suit me.”

To choose my response. So many options. But, given he’s just out of a vaguely serious relationship, even one that was never going to work, I probably shouldn’t make a Manuel joke. So it’s Ter-ifying time. “Sure,” I say with a smirk, “Let’s say that’s what her book’s for. Manual labor.”

“Dang it,” Abdul replies, “I was so sure you were gonna go with the Manuel laboring joke. You going easy on me?”

“With what’s going on, I figured better safe than sorry,” I answer honestly, “If it makes you feel any better about yourself, that was my first thought.”

He nods. “Honest? It does. I was worried for a second that being relatively newly single has made me even hornier than I thought.”

I laugh at that. “And you see why I’m so concerned about stopping doing the thing that isn’t a thing. Imagine me, but even hornier.”

“Oof,” he jokes, “That might be a problem for all the men and women of town.” I laugh. He continues, “I mean, how will they feel when a whirlwind comes through their homes, there places of work, the bridge, has her way with all the young adults, then leaves them wanting more because she would rather spend all her time gossiping with the stone-wallest person anyone’ll ever meet.”

“They’d either tar and feather me, or make a local holiday in my honor. Not sure which,” I joke.

He smiles. “When this undoubtedly happens, if anyone hot turns you down, would you mind giving them my number.”

I laugh. It’s good to vent about things. Before I could come up with and spit out my witty reply, Batu shows up. “What are you two laughing about?” he asks, as he sits down and pulls out his notes.

“Sex stuff,” I say, causing Abdul to chuckle. Batu sighs, shaking his head at the two of us. I get back to why we’re actually here, “Anyways, my thought was, to make studying go by faster the next few days and when we’re on our own, we figure out which days we talked about each question, then we can focus in on those pages and learn the material on the guide without as much superfluous shit.”

Batu nods. “Makes sense, you started yet.”

“Not really,” I admit.

Abdul takes the fall. “Sorry, but sex stuff sometimes got to take priority,” he jokes.