I slept my hangover off for the entire day. I didn’t come to class the next day. Or the day after. I couldn’t face either Bethany or Rosie. The two days of skipping classes turned into a week. My mother didn’t bother me. She knew I could pass my classes in my sleep.

Rosie called me after two weeks.

“You can come back to class. I’m leaving,” she said curtly and hung up.

I tried calling her back but all I kept getting was a busy signal. She left the phone off its hook. I tried for hours before I got the phone ringing.

“Oh I’m sorry but she already left for York City.”

“Can I still catch her at the airport before her flight leaves?”

“Oh I’m sorry dear boy, but the flight already left. I just returned from the airport.”

My world crumbled as I stared at the phone numbly.

—

I skipped as much class as I could as the semester wound down. Taking only important quizzes and exams. This took me out of the dean’s list. But I didn’t care. I passed my classes.

Bethany switched schools the next semester.

I spent the better part of the year walking in a haze. There wasn’t a place in school where I could turn to that wouldn’t trigger memories for me. Everything had a memory. Of Rosie. And Bethany.

My grades were slipping and there were classes I was now flunking. I soldiered on, not knowing what else I could do to lift this pall over my life.

She called as the year was ending. Or rather, her sister called me.

“She’s going home this summer. She wants you to attend her eighteenth birthday.”

“Thank her for inviting me. But I’m not coming,” I said.

“Whatever suits you. I’m just delivering a message,” she answered.

For the next three months, I agonized over that decision. I wanted so badly to see her. But I couldn’t face her, look her in the eyes, and see those eyes looking back full of hateful accusation. I heard it in her voice, and I could see it in my mind.

A week before her birthday, I decided I’ll just write her a letter and drop it off at the party.