School was not how Erin expected to spend her summer. She told me so, one humid night in my backyard. We had ignored the dirty plastic chairs in favor of the grass, stretching out on our backs and observing the stars above. Erin was wearing my favorite of her summer dresses: white with thin straps and a skirt that framed her hips and swayed rhythmically as she walked. Under the full moon it glowed as if it was lit by fireflies.
She had spent the dreary Oregon winter days dreaming of tanning, bike rides, barbeques and a possible summer romance with the dark haired boy that lived down the street. My heart tightened and stomach dropped at this last bit, but I just smiled and assured her that I'm sure he liked her too. How could he not? She sat up and lit a cigarette, what does it matter anyway? She asked me, her thin lips pulling hard on the marlboro. I won't have time to find out.
Erin's mother had insisted on summer school. She needed to graduate on time, she refused to pay for a fifth year of school because she had fucked around. Fucked around was how her mother had said it, hissed it through the phone. I had heard it, Erin put them on speaker phone so I could. She had failed a few classes the year before. After she turned 21 she was never able to turn down the opportunity to go to the bars. I could picture her mother's face on the other end of the phone: thin and tight lipped, skin stretched tightly to hide the wrinkles that she had gained through three divorces. Bleached hair cropped into a perfect bob. Thick black eyeliner painted menacingly across her eyelids. Erin was the opposite of her uptight mother. Where her mother was rail thin and meticulously manicured, Erin curved and bounced, even her chocolate hair twisting in directions she couldn't control.
So, instead of chasing that neighbor, she was locked inside a dark brick building from 8 am to 4 pm studying accounting and economics with an old professor that smelled like moth balls. Only able to catch glimpses of the summer rays through the small windows. She felt like a prisoner. You're so lucky Dan, she said, tossing her cigarette butt into the grass. No school, no job, endless hours to enjoy the sun.
Yes, endless hours. I had graduated with my degree in economics. I was stuck in this dead end college town until I found a job somewhere else, until I found anything anywhere else really. Endless hours to sit in my house and reread Sarte and wait for Erin to finish class. Everyday I left my house at 3:45 so I could be outside waiting for her exactly three minutes before she finished class. She usually stormed out of the building, dark hair billowing behind her like a storm cloud, only a so happy to get the fuck out of there as a greeting. I always worried if I wasn't there exactly on time she would leave without me, and then what would I do?
I'm not that lucky, I said to her, sitting up and reaching for my beer. I get sorta bored now that my roommates have moved out and the city is so quiet. She just shook her head, hair undulating down her back. Dan, you're being ridiculous. While you're sitting around moping like an antisocial loser, I'm plugging numbers and listening to my professor drone on about sunk costs. Everyday all day. I know we've been friends for years, but no one feels bad for you here. She pulled out another cigarette and lit it. I can help you, I responded lamely, I did major in economics you know. I know you can, you always have. Sorry I called you antisocial. It's just...sometimes I feel like you need more friends. Maybe a girlfriend! Oh a girlfriend would be great for you.
I stared blankly up at the sky and heard her lay softly back down next to me. Even without looking at her I knew she was picking at her fingernail polish, a habit she had gotten into only recently. I knew she had painted them salmon even though she wanted coral, knew she would bite of tips of her beautiful nails after she had fully picked off the polish. Knew she would want a snack later of a peanut butter and honey sandwich. I knew she would be bored of star gazing in five minutes. I knew tomorrow, despite it all, I would be waiting outside of the big brick building three minutes before four.
So, she said, breaking my train of thought. You really think he likes me?
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