Graduates in Wonderland (26 page)

Callum got very drunk and announced to everyone at the table that he likes to pretend that I am his girlfriend. WHAT THE FUCK? The only reply I could think of was, “But I have a boyfriend,” and he said, “Yes, I know. But I also like to pretend that he does not exist.”

Everyone at the table awkwardly shifted in their seats and then changed the conversation.

I was stunned by his announcement, but the absolute truth is also this: I felt flattered. I felt acknowledged. Especially because I've been feeling neglected by Sam's absence. And more than that, though—­I felt a flickering attraction toward Callum. This was immediately snuffed out by overwhelming guilt. I didn't talk to him for the rest of the night, but when I got up to leave the pub, he jumped up to offer to walk me to my tram stop. On the walk over, he said, “I'm just going to pretend that we're holding hands.”

Finally, I stopped him.

“You can't say shit like that. I have a boyfriend.”

“I know, I know! I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. Look, I just...” He trailed off before he feigned stealing my purse, which he thinks is a funny joke for onlookers. He laughed a lot, and so did I, because it
was
funny, and laughing made the flirtation feel harmless again. My tram arrived and I got on it alone.

We do not hug good-­bye. We do not touch at all. And yet, I have to keep telling myself that I've done nothing wrong, which makes me feel like I have done something really wrong.

He's getting to me.

How do I know if Sam is The One? Why do I even think there is a “One”? Sam's the first guy I've ever made a real commitment to, but I don't actually know if I can even keep a commitment. I don't yet know what kind of girlfriend I am—­the kind who stays forever or the kind who could leave her boyfriend for another man.

Not that that man is necessarily Callum. Callum's just fun. He loves to make a fool out of himself, but I'm not sure there's more to his personality than that. What I do know is that Callum looks at me like I'm the shiniest object in the room, like he's never met anyone like me before. Maybe he does this because I'm an American girl, maybe because he's never left Melbourne in his entire life, maybe because he sees me as a challenge. I'm not really sure why. He even enjoys it when I tell him to fuck off when he's annoying me in the library. In turn, I find his unflappability attractive, even though I'm not naturally attracted to him physically. He's losing his hair and he chews his fingernails and he has very thick eyebrows that look like caterpillars, but I find him amusing. I find myself looking forward to seeing him at class.

How do I pretend he doesn't exist when he constantly seeks me out?

J

OCTOBER 11

Rachel to Jess

You know, what's strange is that I can easily put myself in Callum's place. I can hear what he is thinking: “I make her laugh. We have the same interests. I just need to push hard enough. That boyfriend will fade away at some point—­most boyfriends do.”

But I think that you are falling into the trap of “Love the one you're with.” If you really think about it, would you prefer Callum to Sam if both of them lived in Melbourne? Either way, if you keep flirting with Callum, things with him will progress.

Even if it feels harmless, these things always turn serious fast.

Here, I'm back to hanging out with Jacques and Marc and Sasha, and see them on the weekends, when we go to house parties. Whenever I see Olivier, I try to be extra friendly to eliminate this coldness that's developed between us, but he's having none of it. Finally, I just ignore him as he ignores me.

To prep for my upcoming SAT classes, Josh gave me extra training sessions, and so I've had to spend hours with him as he teaches me things like, “If you don't know the answer, just act like you do but make them figure it out.” The one-­on-­one sessions are pretty intense. We're becoming really good friends—­it's great to finally have someone get all of my cultural references and jokes. We joked about how we thought we'd spend our time in Paris becoming great writers, but instead we're teaching snobby teenagers how to get into our alma maters. We also cried a little about this.

Josh is such a sturdy, levelheaded presence. He's so straightforward and blunt. After Olivier and the subtlety of the French, it's refreshing. I once told him that horses are people too, and he said, “Well, then why don't I get to shit in the street?” If I had asked Josh, “Is the door open or is it closed?” he would have responded, “The door is locked and you will never have the key.” Still not the nicest thing to hear, but at least the ambiguity is completely gone.

By the end of our intense teacher training, we started having lunch together and I told him all about Olivier, whom I'm still hung up on. When I reached the part about the last time Olivier kissed me, I couldn't keep it together and started crying. He put a hand on my shoulder, but it didn't feel out of place. It just felt comforting.

Anyway, he has a girlfriend. Whom he lives with.

He also buys me coffee all the time when we bump into each other before work. His rationale: “I am your boss. I know what I make, and I know what you make, and I know who can afford this more.”

We then go and drink them on the steps of a big nineteenth-­century government building around the corner, where we share a cigarette. I have officially given them up(!), and his girlfriend has made him give them up too, but somehow I always have one or two in my purse. And he says witty things and basically we pretend we live in the Jazz Age and have lives as public intellectuals, in which sitting around drinking coffee for half the day is an acceptable occupation.

Quitting smoking (which I have now done four times since ­graduation) is not my only self-­improvement effort. I joined a gym and went curtain shopping. I just reread that and realized I am on my way to being a trophy wife who is really good at taking the SAT.

That's pretty much the most plausible future I can think of right now—­everything else is hypothetical. Now that I know my time in Paris has a definite ending point because I can't pursue my PhD here, I'm growing anxious about moving to a new country. I hate thinking about starting over in a new place again. To start a PhD in the United States, I would have to repeat my last two years of coursework—­and I'd have to pay US tuition fees, which are enormous, especially compared to here.

I started asking everyone I know where they thought I should go. Josh: “New York!” Sasha: “Vienna!” Olivier: “Anywhere but here!” (It was implied.)

But there is one other option that sounds feasible: England. Pros: I speak English. I wouldn't have to pay US fees. And most important, my French coursework would still be accepted, because both France and the United Kingdom have the same postgrad system.

I'm starting to think England might be the only solution. I've been researching programs in London and I'm going to send off some applications to see what happens. If I don't do anything right now, I'm going to end up back in Wisconsin, trying to explain the point of a film studies master's degree to recruitment agencies and my father.

But that means no more Sasha, no more Josh, no more Seine and cobblestones and champagne-­colored light. I'm already reminiscing about my present.

Anyway, I'm off to go teach sixteen-­year-­olds. I had my first class yesterday, and in case you have forgotten, sixteen-­year-­olds are assholes. One kid dropped other people's coats on the floor, dumped out the contents of the girls' purses over lunch, and basically made my life miserable. Good joke, future psychopath.

Love,

Rach

OCTOBER 20

Jess to Rachel

That future psychopath sounds like Callum. Whom I can't stop thinking about. That is, when I'm not hating myself for doubting my relationship with Sam. What is wrong with me? I care so much about Sam, but I'm getting frustrated. I've finally found someone and yet I sleep alone most nights. I moved here so we could be together—­but we're hardly ever together. In my darkest, most selfish moments, I think that he could find a way to see me more if he really wanted to. If he loved me more.

That's when my mind wanders and I wonder what it would be like to be with Callum. I want to know what it would be like to kiss him just once. I want to sleep with him just once. And then I'd know what it was like and it would never have to happen again.

Do you think I met Sam when I was too young? I'm beginning to think this. Although I'm always on the lookout, I never imagined myself finding The One until I was at least thirty. Sam arrived earlier than I expected and maybe I need more time to explore, to be alone, to be less serious, to learn about what I want from my life. To be with other people.

The extreme fluctuation of my feelings is beginning to scare me. Last year I was in Beijing. I fell so hard for Sam and all I wanted was him. I would have done anything for him, and then I did. And now here I am in Australia, part of a real relationship for the first time, and yet I'm thinking about some guy who makes me laugh by pretending to fall into a trash can.

I feel sick thinking about it. I don't know what to do. At this point, I seem to be trying to stand very still balancing these two relationships. I want everything to stay as it is, where I can flirt with Callum during the day and come home to my boyfriend, Sam, on the weekends.

Last night, a group of my classmates stayed late at the computer lab working on our final assignments for the semester. At midnight, Callum walked me to the closest train station. He asked what I was doing that weekend and I told him that Sam was coming into town. Callum nodded and grew serious. He said, “You're holding two fortune cookies. One says, ‘Stay with Boyfriend Sam.' The other says, ‘Date that asshole from your program.'”

I couldn't believe he was really saying this. Why did he have to push the boundaries and be so bold? Why was he ruining everything?

I'd never seen his serious side before, and didn't realize that he liked me so much. Am I only doubting my relationship with Sam because Callum appeared in my life? Now that he's presented himself to me so seriously, it seems like I really do have to make a choice.

I think you and I are in similar situations: Life has once again handed us ultimatums. In six months, we could both have completely different lives. You might be in England on your way to becoming a fancy professor, and I could be...breaking up with Callum.

I feel like my choice is less “Choose Callum or Sam” and more “Choose an unpredictable life of many loves” or “Choose a stable life with one love forever.”

But instead of confronting these feelings, I simply shook my head in disbelief at Callum's audacity—­and also at my own. I don't stop him from saying things like this, and I did not immediately leave. I did not say, “Don't talk to me this way ever again.” I tried to laugh it off. I waved good-­bye.

Moments later, when I was on the train, Sam texted and I did not reply until I was at home.

He's flying into Melbourne tomorrow for the weekend.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Rachel, I'm holding two fortune cookies.

Which am I going to choose?

Jess

OCTOBER 22

Rachel to Jess

You need to make your decision before a fortune cookie does it for you. You have the rest of your life to think about.

If you want something new and exciting, then you should break up with Sam now and pick Callum. But excitement always fades eventually. Is it still going to be funny when Callum falls into garbage cans as a forty-­five-­year-­old man? I feel like there will always be new Callums. But honestly, I'm not sure if there will be other Sams. You love everything about him. His living in Sydney is temporary, but I've never heard you describe any guy the way you talk about Sam.

Sam could be the wrong choice, but remember that even though you didn't meet him when you were thirty, it did take twenty-­five years to find him. On the other hand, Callum's only real pro seems to be that he lives in Melbourne and is new. He sounds like most of the guys you've ever dated—­hilarious and unpredictable—­but Sam is the first guy who you've actually considered a real future with.

Look at the guys you've dated since college. Bruno Who No Speak the English and George Who You Don't Want To Touch and Old Man Ray. Next up, Trash Can Callum? Or Sam? Whom you loved so much that you left China for him?

Let me know what you choose.

Love you,

Rach

P.S. If you pick Trash Can Callum, I'm really sorry about this e-mail.

OCTOBER 23

Jess to Rachel

Too late.

Sam has left me. He knows. He knows everything.

On Saturday, we had a great dinner out in the city and walked home arm in arm. We fell asleep spooning and I was so happy we were together. And then at 3 
A.M.
, my phone rang. I couldn't find it immediately, and the ring woke Sam up. I finally found my phone at the bottom of my purse and I saw that it was Callum. I hit ignore.

“Who was that?” Sam asked.

“No one,” I said and got back into bed. “Go back to sleep.”

Then, the phone rang again. Callum. Sam looked at my phone and saw this.

“Why is he calling you at 3 
A.M.
? Why is someone else calling you at 3
A.M.
? Why is a GUY calling you at 3 
A.M.
?”

I pressed ignore and then a minute later, the phone rang again. I shut it off and turned to look at Sam. I was frozen with guilt and fear and horror. Sam lay next to me and began shaking uncontrollably. I tried wrapping my arms around him, telling him it was nothing, it was nothing, but he was shivering. Shaking.

He kept asking me, over and over again, “Why is Callum calling you?” And then he began asking, “Does he call you often? How much do you see him? What's going on with him? I thought he was just some guy in your class whom you barely knew.” I kept denying there was anything going on, even denying Callum's feelings for me. I was overcome with fear and such guilt unlike anything that I have ever known. I kept playing down Callum's feelings because I didn't want to worry Sam. I rested my head on his chest, and his heart was beating so quickly.