"You sureeee?" she teased, poking your cheek with her artistic nose.
"Haha, yes, I'm sure. But you don't have to tell me," you reassure her.
"No I want to tell you but I don't want you to be bored!"
"You haven't bored me yet so I say that's not a big risk."
Krystal turns her head slightly and gazes at you. She seems more awake than before, or just less drunk. You give her a comforting smile. Her lips curve up and she nods, more to herself than anything.
"Basically he and I got together two years ago and it was really good then. He was all cute and nice and I really liked him. But then he would start saying mean things to me and make me feel bad so I wanted to break up with him. Like, he would never hold my hand in public and he'd always blame me for everything and get really mad whenever I made a mistake. Oh and I found out he cheated on me so I tried to ask him about it but he just didn't want to talk so we broke up."
You digest what she said, involuntarily pulling her closer to your chest.
"Did he make you cry a lot?"
"All the time. He'd get mad at me and wouldn't allow me to sleep in the room with him so I'd cry myself to sleep on the floor of his apartment. And he'd yell at me in public and call me stupid and other bad stuff."
You clench your teeth.
"And then he calls me today and says he misses me and wants to get back together and I almost said yes because I'm lonely and I hate that I would say yes and so I felt angry at myself and sad and cried."
Krystal … lonely? You take a second look at this seemingly perfect girl in front of you. Looks like everyone has problems of a sort.
"That's … I'm sorry," you say, wishing you could offer more.
She doesn't respond. You wait patiently.
"I don't regret it but I don't want to go back to it," she finally claims.
You think for a moment. Should you support her or be more reserved?
"I get that. So good job for saying no to a jerk like him."
She falls silent again. You take greater initiative this time.
"You made the right choice. He's not the one for you. If he makes you feel bad all the time and you guys don't work things out normally then that's a bad relationship. So yeah, you did the right thing for yourself."
Krystal pulls away from you, holding you almost at arms length as she studies your face. You stare back earnestly, wondering if she can even see you when she's this drunk. Apparently she's satisfied because she leans against you again, curving her body around yours.
"Thanks for that."
"You're welcome. A reminder never hurts. Thanks. For sharing."
That makes her sit up straighter.
"You don't need to say thank you for that! I should be the one saying thank you for sitting down and giving me your handkerchief and making me laugh and now you're carrying me back to my dorm," she finishes shyly.
"Well don't worry because I'm thinking of ways of how you can repay me. By the way, it's a bandana not a handkerchief," you quickly retort.
"It's totally a handkerchief. A hanky," she snorts derisively.
"It is not a hanky!"
"Is too!"
You glower at her and she snickers. You see the doorway to the North Quad building and quicken your pace. Your occasional workouts haven't given you iron biceps and your arms are burning.
"Why are you running? You don't have to run," Krystal says.
"Well for a heavyweight you're quite—" you don't get to finish.
"Yeah I know I'm skinny, everyone says that I'm skinny, and I can't drink but I can!"
"Actually I was gonna say you're pretty heavy for a heavyweight…"
"Haha shut up! Stupid!"
Krystal's face lights up with a smile and you're momentarily transfixed by the sight before she smacks the back of your head.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"For saying I'm fat!"
"I didn't say you're fat, I said you're heavy—ow! Okay, I'll stop!"
Laughing together, you make your way to the entrance and set her down. She stands with little difficulty and reaches into her back pocket for ID card. It takes her several tries to swipe her keycard and you gently take it from her and press it against the card reader machine. The reader beeps and you hand the key back to Krystal who clumsily stashes it behind her phone case. You watch the glass doors slowly swing inwards, admitting you into the luxurious realm of the North Quad.
You stagger forward. A thick red carpet hushes your footfalls. Oil paintings decorate the walls while the soft glow from a crystal chandelier lights the foyer. Krystal pulls you to the side, sliding her hand into yours. Your fingers interlock and you marvel at the way they fit together so perfectly, so naturally before you're drawn out of your reverie by the sheer splendor of the great hall. Wall hangings decorate every corner of the room, tapestries imported from some Middle Eastern country hang from the ceiling and plush divans litter the floor. A fireplace quietly glows in the corner, and rows of books line mahogany shelves recessed above the mantle.
Krystal tugs you quickly past the room and you follow, wanting to make sure that if she falls you'll catch her again. She stumbles a bit and you haul her up, placing a hand on her waist. You two walk into another marble foyer which houses six gleaming elevators. She presses the "Up" button and an elevator dings. You follow her into the elevator and rise to the fifth floor where she exists and heads to the last door down the hall. Swiping her keycard, she lets you into her suite.
"Home sweet home. Can I get you anything?"
She waves her hands around. You shake your head as you take it all in. It is a simple two-room affair, with a small living room complete with dark leather furniture and a kitchenette to the side, and a bedroom in the back. You walk to the kitchenette, and open your backpack. She has a toaster oven and so you take out enough bread and cheese to make several grilled cheese sandwiches and pop them in. Turning around, you watch Krystal disappear into her bedroom and close her door. She's definitely sobered up, but part of you wonders if she'll remember tonight. You feel a slight twinge of disappointment when you think she won't.
After a few moments, the oven beeps and you slide out four slightly burnt steaming hot cheesy sandwiches. They smell delicious and you have trouble not wolfing them down yourself. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, you walk over and knock on the bedroom door.
"Come in!" Krystal shouts, her voice muffled.
You cautiously enter and see her sprawled on her bed with her jeans half off and her shirt on the floor.
"I uh—sorry!" you stutter, trying to back out of the room not knowing whether to look or not.
"No it's okay! I really don't care if you see me naked," she shoots back casually.
"Uh yeah okay but I care and so does the rest of the world!"
"Why do I care about that? Can you help me please?"
You gingerly place the food down with your eyes closed.
"Jesus have you never seen a naked girl before? Open your eyes! It's fine!" Krystal angrily demands.
You finally crack open your eyes, keeping them determinedly on her face.
"Help me get my PJs from that drawer. That smells really good by the way, did you make it?" Krystal asks, pointing first at her dresser and then at the sandwiches.
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You cross over to the dresser, pull open the drawer and find a white sleeveless short nightdress that you toss over to her. That was a stupid move. Krystal wildly waves her arms trying to catch the dress but it smacks her in the face.
"I can't pull off my pants. They're too tight," she whines, pulling the dress over her head and unclasping her bra. Was God playing a prank? This had to be some joke. You let out a breath and walk over to her, eyes still focused on her face. Kneeling down and with a mighty tug, you manage to help her take off her pants.
"Thanks! Just throw them anywhere. The housekeeper will take care of them."
In the North Quad they had housekeepers? You shake your head disbelievingly as you retrieve the sandwiches and water.
"Here, eat these and drink this. Then you might not have the worst hangover of your life," you order.
She obediently bites into a sandwich, and then holds it out, offering you a bite. You hesitate for a split second before biting into it too. It is delicious. You can't help thinking that you guys had an indirect kiss. Seriously, you were so childish today. There must have been something in the water. Soon, both of you are munching away, sitting on the bed together. After a moment, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and decide to ask what's been on your mind for the past hour.
"So, why me?"
"What do you mean?" she asks and licks away a crumb on the corner of her lip.
"You know what I mean. Why didn't you just tell me to go away and instead tell me about your ex?"
She thinks for a second. You're not sure if she's actually thinking or the alcohol is making her brain process things more slowly.
"I don't know. I guess you're a stranger and you dress really differently so you probably wouldn't judge me. And I'm drunk," she states, taking another bite of her sandwich.
You process that for a moment. It was probably the truth. But for some reason, it hurt.
"So, it's not that I look particularly trustworthy or anything?" you tease trying to mask your feelings.
"I don't know you at all, how would I know that?" she shoots back.
"True. But how do you know my name?"
"Because all my premed friends are jealous of you and they always talk about you."
That was unexpected. You struggle to contain your confusion. Jealous of me? What was there to be jealous of? You had nothing on them. You hadn't even applied to medical school yet! Applications open in a month.
"But, why are they jealous of me?"
"Uh cause you're the smartest and get the best grades and all the professors love you? I don't know, I'm not premed. That's just what they say. And they showed me your Facebook profile so I know what you look like. But I don't think you're a know it all or a kiss up. I think you work hard and I really like that. I always see you in the café late at night, even on Fridays and Saturdays when everyone else is going to party. But you're always studying. I wish I could focus like you and do something with my life."
Your mouth drops in disbelief. Krystal Jung wanting to do something with her life? Her mom owns one of the biggest makeup brands in the world and her dad is a managing director at a huge bank. She'd be able to get a job without any problems, unlike literally every other economics major scrambling for a summer banking internship. She'd be able to rake in the money or go work for a nonprofit—anything at all because of her financial security.
She must have sensed your disquiet because she laughed quietly.
"You don't understand. I appreciate the head start my parents gave me. But I always wanted to know how far I can get myself and I want to try it out without their help."
You feel slightly annoyed. Your parents are immigrants who work multiple jobs to keep you and your sister in school. Granted, financial aid gave you a hefty sum, but you still had several thousand you had to pay yourself. All your textbooks, your medical school practice books, your lab gear, everything, you had to buy without help. You worked all manners of odd jobs to fund your education—tutoring, dishwashing, teaching piano, gardening, you name it. All of that took a toll on you. Not on academics because you'd rather die than let anything affect your GPA, but working extra jobs and trying to maintain all your extracurriculars and grades meant you had very little time to socialize and find friends. If you were honest with yourself, Victoria probably was your only friend. You couldn't help feel a flash of anger. Of course Krystal and all those rich kids were popular. They had time to party and make friends. People wanted to associate themselves with them to get connected. If you had Krystal's luck and money, you'd probably have a very different college experience. And this revelation made you realize exactly how lonely you and tired you felt, especially as of late. And to think there would be people who had everything but wanted to give it all up! They wouldn't last a day in the real world trying to fend for themselves. And they'd talk big and try it out because they knew they'd always have a security net and so wouldn't feel afraid of failing at something. And even if they tried it out, they already had a head start and that wouldn't be a true test of their abilities. It just wasn't fair. You had no second chances. You couldn't fail. You had your family depending on you to succeed so your mom didn't have to scrub her hands to the bone washing clothes, so your dad didn't have to beg and grovel for tips as a waiter, so your sister could actually pursue her passion for writing instead of going to school to become a nurse.
Krystal looks at you strangely.
"Is everything all right?"
You glare at her, at her wide open trusting eyes, dulled slightly with drink, but bright nevertheless. And then you realize you can't fault her because her life is all that she has ever known. She couldn't understand you. She couldn't ever comprehend where you came from and how far you had come. And her saying these things didn't mean that she was a bad person. There could be no comparison. You had misdirected your anger at an individual who was a product of privilege and not at privilege itself.
"Yes, yes. I was just thinking about privilege and how I had very little compared to you," you respond slightly bitterly, not completely able to stop the words.
She holds your gaze and nods solemnly.
"You're totally right about that, and I'm sorry I can't do anything to correct that right now."
You shrug, still rankled.
"If it's any consolation … I've always admired you. And wanted to get to know you, but being in different majors is difficult—"
"I guess you didn't want to be my friend that badly then."
She lapses into a silence. You don't really know what to say or if you even want to be there. But then you remember that she had been the one crying over her ex and how lonely she felt and you feel guilty. So you sigh and let go of the anger as best as you can.
"I'm sorry. I'm being inconsiderate."
"It's okay, you have a reason to be."
"Not to be mean to someone who's been crying."
"I meant you have a reason to feel angry with me for saying what I said about my parents and wanting to do stuff on my own."
"It's all right, forget it. We should go to bed."
You take the sandwich place and bottle of water, now empty, and dump them in the kitchenette trashcan. Pulling on your backpack, you turn your torso and wave at Krystal.
"See you around."
Before you can open the door, she gets up and walks over to you, enveloping you in a timid hug.
"Please, could you—could you stay for a while? I don't want to end the night like this, angry and sad," she says in a small voice.
You look down at her wrapped around you. You don't like ending on a low note either. Relenting, you shrug off your backpack and follow her back to her bed. She crawls under the white covers.
"Can we cuddle?" she asks, hands clasped together under the sheets, her eyes imploring.
You wonder again if she's being like this because she's drunk. What if she wakes up in the morning and blacked out? That should be interesting. You would pay money to watch that unfold. Acquiescing, you get under the sheets and hold out your arms.
"I'm the king of cuddling."
She immediately launches herself into your arms, resting her head on your chest and pulling you close. Your arms close around her and you breathe in the scent of her shampoo. The lights automatically dim and you feel her breathe steadily.
"Amber? Thank you."
A brief pause.
"You're welcome."