Expiration Dating Read online

  The door thunked open downstairs. I scrambled into my clothes and lunged into bed, pretending to sleep as Josh lumbered up the stairs, singing drunkenly at the top of his lungs and flopping onto his bed without taking off his shoes. He looked like a Muppet even at rest. I heard Josh’s breathing steady as I lay, feeling the rise and fall of Andrew’s chest against my cheek.

  I relaxed, as the beat of his heart lulled me to sleep. I was drifting off when I began dreaming that Andrew was rubbing my back. I sighed, happy to let the dream continue indefinitely. Non-dream Andrew then whispered in my ear, and I opened my eyes.

  He hadn’t gotten enough before Josh interrupted.

  Excited, thrilled by the danger of his sleeping roommate not four feet from us, Andrew nipped my lip, his hard kiss a rough contrast to the softness of his mouth. I wanted more.

  Josh rolled over, muttering something about a Gyro sandwich, and I collapsed next to Andrew, struggling to keep my laughter quiet. He covered my mouth with a hand, but I could tell he was smiling, too. I kissed his palm, gave Andrew a wicked grin and went under the covers.

  “You try to be quiet,” I warned as I slid downwards. I kept a playful hand on his chest until he gave in, laying his head on the pillow.

  Sunlight streamed through a skylight above as I woke, disoriented. I realized where I was as soon as I saw the sleeping form next to me. I rose quickly, stumbling out of bed. I hadn’t remembered to set an alarm, and I was surely going to be late to class. I felt Andrew’s arm snake out and grab my wrist, dragging me back to bed. Josh’s bed was already empty, so I knew it must be later than I thought.

  “What time is it? I need to get to class!” I said. “I’m probably already late.”

  “Come back,” he mumbled.

  “No, I need to go, I need to leave,” I said, still slightly disoriented. I stumbled around the room, somehow ending up with his shorts on backwards.

  “Dana, lay down.” His voice was firm, but his innocent smile was inviting. His complex gray eyes were a contrast to the sandy hair framing his face.

  The cozy comforter seemed to call my name, so I agreed. Andrew stroked my back and said, “You will still get an A, one class won’t make a difference. You’re staying here today.”

  I didn’t respond.

  “You already got an A from me.” He drew the covers in tight, and I couldn’t resist.

  I lay back against his chest. He was right. It felt nice to break the rules for once. To top everything off, Andrew forbade me to leave the bed while he ran next door to grab breakfast supplies. I was more than happy to oblige.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I eventually wandered downstairs after another half hour of dozing, half listening to the sizzle of greasy bacon, drooling over the smell of the eggs and onions hissing in the pan. A heaping omelet was placed in front of me as soon as I sat at the table, and Andrew soon joined me with freshly made coffee.

  “What service!” I said. I pecked him on the cheek. I realized it might not be the kosher thing to do, but I was too carefree to worry. After devouring copious amounts of food, I offered to clean up the dishes. We spent the rest of the day trying to stream American TV shows, playing multiple cribbage games- I lost all of them, and ventured out to a nearby park. As the darkness grew, I asked Andrew to play some music on the guitar for me.

  “You’re good,” I said as he wrapped up a popular tune. “You’re … really good.”

  “Thank you,” he shrugged. “I’ve only been playing for twenty years.”

  He moved from the guitar to the piano, where he proceeded to play every song I asked for on a dime. He confided in me that he had perfect pitch. It came naturally to him. When I asked how that could be, he pointed to a cup on the desk and asked what color it was.

  I hesitated, wondering how I could mistake the neon red Christmas mug for anything other than red. “Red.”

  “Yes, why?”

  I thought for a second, tapping my front tooth. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s exactly what it means to have perfect pitch.” He played a note on the piano. “That’s a G, because… well, it just is.”

  My mom tells me to stop singing at family parties during Happy Birthday.

  Andrew became engrossed in his music, song after song filled the apartment. I lay back on the couch. The same question that had been nagging me for weeks resurfaced: Why does it have to be so difficult?

  My relationship with Andrew was so easy in every sense… except for logistics. How could I let myself fall for him, when I knew we’d be ripped apart by distance in months? He’d go back to Seattle, I’d go back to Minnesota, and that’d be the end. Who knew where we’d be after college, which cities we’d choose, which jobs we’d take. Who knew what would happen in the next year of school?

  The situation seemed like a cruel trick, the universe showing me I could be happy in a relationship, then yanking all progress from under my feet. The worst part: knowing he would still be out there. We wouldn’t have closure, an ending; there’d be no reason to be apart. There was nothing wrong, except for timing. I couldn’t wrap my head around the concept. I couldn’t, wouldn’t accept it. Shouldn’t things work out when you’ve found the right person?

  Slowly but surely, Andrew’s roommates joined us, each drawn to the living room by the sound of the piano. The list of requests went on all night. I didn’t talk to Andrew for most of the evening, as he was entertaining his housemates and guests. I didn’t realize it was almost midnight, until it was nearly too late. I jumped up saying I had to leave and scurried toward the door. Andrew waved goodbye from the piano as I jumped into the lift, sprinting to catch the last metro.

  “Nice to have you back,” Emilia said when I returned.

  “Good to be back.” I tapped my foot, still agitated by the thoughts that’d plagued my mind during the mini concert.

  “So are you two official yet?”

  “No. We’re just friends.”

  Emilia raised her eyebrows. “Really.”

  “Yes.”

  I sat down next to Emilia, twisting my fingers together.

  “I don’t know what’s happening to me!” I said, twisting to face Emilia. “I haven’t dated anyone for five years, and then I come to Italy determined to meet an Italian, and I end up with a crush on some American- from Minnesota, no less.”

  “Dana, you can’t always plan these things out,” Emilia said.

  I barely heard her.

  “I shouldn’t be spending this much time with him. How am I supposed to meet anyone else?”

  “Did you hear what I said? He’s a nice guy; maybe you’re finally ready for love.”

  “Love? Who said anything about love?” I paused, hands on hips.

  “It’s a saying,” Emilia said, turning back to her book.

  “It’s not. Anyway, I’ve avoided it for five years. Why is it so hard to stay away from now?” I asked.

  “It’s hard to avoid it when it works,” Emilia said, standing, carrying her tea cup back to the sink. “Think about it.”

  I thought, and I thought. Emilia could seem so cold on the surface, but there was an underlying sense of wisdom about everything she had to say. Though she often came off as crass, she was one of my most loyal friends. I couldn’t explain the relationship, it just worked for us. I never doubted that she cared, and in fact, her bluntness was probably just what I needed.

  The next day passed in a blur because I was so distracted by what Emilia had said. I went to classes, went for a run, and went about my daily motions in a daze. Emilia even reprimanded me for leaving the burner on after I made a cup of tea. I didn’t even drink the cup of tea, I realized a day later when I found it still sitting on the counter.

  What was wrong with me?

  I met Emilia and Megan outside of Castello Sforzesco, the Milanese castle in the center of the city, on Wednesday. We had gotten into the habit of going for an evening walk, which usually ended with a gelato at our favorite bar.

  “
I’ve figured it out,” I said as we strolled, spread out on the wide path surrounding the castle. “I’ll enjoy Andrew until… circumstances change. Then we’ll both just move on. That’s what he wants, anyways.”

  “Okay, but why do you have to decide now? Why can’t you just see what happens?” Megan asked, stirring up dust on the path with her sneakers.

  I breathed deeply. “He’s been very clear that we won’t stay in contact when we get back to America. He says he doesn’t want to lead me on, and that he doesn’t do long distance, so… there’s really no chance for us.”

  I paused, squinting at the graying sky. “That’s where we get into disagreements. I can’t see the point of falling for someone when you know it’s going to end. It’s like falling in love with an expiration date.”

  Megan nodded her approval, but Emilia remained silent.

  “Is everything OK?” I asked.

  Tears filled Emilia’s eyes. I forgot about my issues.

  “I Skyped with Dan this afternoon,” she said. She turned to Megan and explained, “Dan and I dated all year, but broke up when I moved here. He was thinking of going to school in New Orleans, and we would’ve had to do long distance for a few years.”

  She peered at me through wet eyelashes, “He’s dating someone else.”

  “Emilia, honey, I’m so sorry,” I grabbed her into a tight hug.

  Megan stood awkwardly off to one side, notorious for not showing emotion. “I’m sorry, too.”

  “Was this sudden?” I asked. “Was there any warning?”

  “Some bitch from my class,” Emilia sobbed. “She has worse shoe taste than you,” she glanced up. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” I said shuffling my dirty tennis shoes. They got me from A to B and that’s what counted in my mind.

  “He said he wants to be friends. Friends!” she was starting to sound hysterical. I’d never seen her like this before. “How can we be friends? I’m across the world from him, I don’t hear from him once, and then he Facebook messages me that we need to talk.”

  “What did you say while you Skyped?” I asked.

  Emilia looked ashamed, “I said I missed him, and I went into a lot of details. I went on and on about our old camping trips, and you know, the other stuff…”Emilia trailed off. “And then he told me he had a new girlfriend.”

  I eased Emilia on to a nearby bench and sat next to her, letting her process while Megan faced her.

  “And the worst part? My friends, my family, they’re across the world,” she looked devastated. “I found out yesterday that my grandpa’s had to go to hospital and today that the guy I thought I loved is with someone else. And I can’t do anything about either of them.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Megan and I exchanged a helpless glance.

  Emilia didn’t notice. She was still staring at my dusty shoes. “I mean, my grandpa will be fine, it’s just the thought that scares me. I’ve never felt so helpless. Not to mention, I have no one close to me to talk to.”

  “Emilia,” I said, gesturing.

  “I’m glad I have you guys,” she amended. “It’s just weird, you know, because I feel like we’re such good friends but we don’t have any history together. We’ve only known each other two months, and here I am crying like a baby to you.”

  “The circumstances are not normal,” I said. “Emilia none of us have a history with each other. But that’s also the cool thing! Just think. You can be whoever you want because no one knows you. No one knows about Dan, or anything. You have a fresh slate.”

  Megan gave a vigorous nod.

  “You should have fun with it,” I said. “I am, Emilia, you wouldn’t know me if we were back in America. That’s the beauty of this experience. It happens maybe once in your life if you’re lucky, and we’re fortunate enough to be stuck in it together. If that’s not one way to form a friendship...” I let my hands drop to my sides, and I sat next to Emilia.

  Emilia was still, digesting my mini speech.

  I wasn’t quite finished.

  “Let’s make new memories, memories that we can talk about forever. Heck – you’re in Italy! We might as well make the most of it, right? And if it’s meant to be, Dan will be there when you come back. If not, it really is his loss.”

  Megan decided to chime in, “So should we grab a beer or somethin’?”

  Emilia smiled past her tears and nodded.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emilia calmed down significantly after the initial shock, and by the weekend she was back to her immaculate self. The three of us spent a lot of time together cooking meals, going for long walks, and testing out new gelato shops. It was at over one of these dinners that our next adventure began to take shape.

  “Damn, that’s hot,” I said setting the plate down with a clatter.

  “Yes, that’s what I said,” Emilia said.

  Megan, without looking up from her laptop, told me to, “Put some ice on it.”

  “God, you guys are caring friends,” I said as I grabbed a towel and ice.

  “Did you guys realize midterms are next week?” Megan asked, now looking up from her computer.

  “Does that mean we need to study, for once?” I asked.

  “I’m more concerned about the week after midterms,” Megan said jiggling her leg on the couch. “My mom is coming in town for spring break.”

  “That’s awesome!” I said. “What are you going to do?”

  “Rome for two days, I dunno, maybe she’ll let me rent a Vespa and learn to drive it.” She brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes.

  “Isn’t it two weeks, though?” Emilia asked. “What about the second week?”

  “No plans,” Megan said. “She’s only staying for a week because she didn’t want to leave the farm for too long.”

  “Let’s do something.” I wrapped my hand in a towel, and I lifted it in the direction of Emilia. “I don’t have any plans at all. Emilia?”

  “My family’s not coming until Easter, so I’m open as well,” she said.

  “Well, that sounds like we’ve got ourselves a plan,” I said.

  Over our three course meal, two of them wine, we dreamed up places we wanted to visit. The Middle East was too dangerous, so that was out of the question. I pushed for Thailand, but tickets were too expensive. Finally, Emilia suggested we stay within Italy.

  “What about Sicily?” Emilia asked.

  “Yes!” Megan agreed. “They have a volcano I have always wanted to climb.” As a geology major, rocks held a special place in Megan’s heart. I didn’t understand the appeal, but hey, to each their own.

  “Fine by me, as long as they have a beach,” I said.

  “It’s an island,” the other two girls said in unison.

  “Well, that’s settled then,” I said, choosing to ignore their tone.

  “Dana, what about the other week?” Emilia asked. I shrugged.

  “We’ll figure it out, we have plenty of time,” I said, focused on trying to type with a bandaged hand.

  On Tuesday, after a relaxing weekend, the school was abuzz with rumors about a Michael Jackson tribute concert at one of the popular venues. Alcatraz was a well-known club, known for the girls in skimpy clothes dancing in cages, the massive trio of dance floors, and the DJ’s suspended high in the air on a platform above the packed dance floor. The next night, Wednesday, was supposedly the concert of the semester.

  “Would you like to go?” Emilia asked between classes. “I miss concerts. Let’s do dinner and make a night of it.”

  “I don’t know,” I hedged. I thought it would be fun to go, but I also hadn’t seen Andrew for a few days, and to be honest I kind of missed hanging out with him. Midterms had kept both of us busy, and without going out to the dance clubs I didn’t see him all that often. “I’ll let you know tonight.”

  I caught Andrew as he was coming through the front doors for class.

  “Hey, you!” I said, falling into step with him.

  “Hey.�
� Andrew barely looked up, shuffling around in his backpack.

  “Did you hear about the concert tomorrow night?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Andrew said. There was an awkward pause. I took on a less flirty tone.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to go, since we haven’t really hung out recently,” I said. “Of course Emilia’s coming and your friends are welcome, I just thought…”

  Andrew looked at me for the first time, “Sure, that sounds fun. Sorry, I’m just running late.”

  I watched Andrew head off to class. I caught up with Emilia as we headed home.

  “Tomorrow night sounds good,” I told her.

  She eyed me, “Is Andrew coming?”

  “You are good.”

  The day of the concert rolled around, and I went to classes as usual, got a quick run in, and ate some dinner with my roommates. It was then time to get ready for the show, and I took special care picking out my outfit. I wore a strapless black dress with light blue sparkles that glittered when I sashayed under the lights. I also wore my dancing shoes – comfy high heels that I could stomp around in all night long. I even let Emilia apply my makeup, fake eyelashes and all.

  We splurged and bought a special bottle of Grappa liqueur to start the night out. We said cheers, packed the bottle to go, and were soon pouring out of the metro, ready for some M.J.

  “Emilia,” I said in a moment of weakness, “I’m kind of excited to see Andrew tonight.”

  “I know, sweetie,” she said. We got in line with our tickets, and I noticed Josh the Muppet standing behind me, chatting with Andrew’s Cheeto-scented roommate.

  “Hi!” I greeted them. “I didn’t know you’d be here. Where’re the rest of your roommates?”

  Josh stepped uncomfortably close to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. “I don’t know, I didn’t get the chance to ask if they were coming or not. There’s some girl staying with us from Germany, one of them knows her. They were pretty drunk when we left already.”

  We had reached the front of the line and entered into the dance area. The flashing lights bounced off the far corners of the room, the area larger than two football fields stuck next to each other. The girls were up in their cages, but they thankfully still had something resembling a bikini on.