His Roommate's Friend

The days of our final semester at school passed by more rapidly than I wanted. The mood on campus was somber as we mourned the tragic and senseless loss of fellow students. Andrew worked on his final project, and while we spent time together, it happened less often as we filled our schedules with other obligations.

The sex between us continued to increase in its pleasure as we discovered the little things that triggered heightened responses. My favorite was still a missionary position, and once Andrew’s arm no longer required a sling, he proved to me that he was my perfect match. His penetration was slow but purposeful, and he was able to control himself, last longer, and vary the rhythm to keep me wanting more, but to prevent giving me too much. He had me begging for him to make me come. His prowess extended the time of our intercourse, and when we did finally reach the conclusion and express our seed, we were at once satisfied and wanting for the next time.

Hours were spent together, snuggling, studying, and simply enjoying the presence of the other. Academically, things were perfect. We both expected a 4.0 average for the final semester. On the employment front, one of my professors had spoken with someone he knew in town, and after a five-minute telephone conversation, I was offered my dream job for almost twice the pay I had hoped for and great benefits.

We celebrated at the same restaurant we went to that day that seemed so long ago in my memory. I had chicken piccata again. Life changed during the tiramisu.

“You’re coming with me to look at apartments, right?” I was excited when I asked.

“You know I will,” he replied.

“Do you think we should get a one-bedroom or a two?”

“What do you mean ‘we’? I’m going back to New York after graduation.”

A stake through my heart would have hurt less and ended the pain. I said nothing. I put my fork down.

“I heard from my father last night. I didn’t want to spoil the celebration because it’s about you, but I have a job. It’s not in the division that I wanted, but I’ve got my foot in the door.”

I swallowed my pride, my hurt, my entire being. “No, it’s fine. I just thought that since you hadn’t heard anything, you’d be staying around here.”

“My home’s in New York.”

I nodded. I had hoped his home was with me. What a fool! “Hey, we’re friends. We’ll always be friends.”

“That’s right,” he smiled.

I went looking for an apartment by myself. I got a one-room place with a tiny bathroom and kitchen that was very close to work. There was no reason to get something fancy or big just for me. I’d been given some money for ‘moving expenses,’ and I used it to get a double bed, a TV, and some cookware. There wasn’t much to move into the place. I stayed in the dorm until graduation day. During this time, Stuart, Roger, Andrew, and I had eaten two meals together in the dining hall. Andrew and I hadn’t spoken much; Tigerman and Jojo hadn’t spoken at all. My heart ached, but I maintained a stiff upper lip; I wasn’t going to let myself fall apart.

“Talk to him,” Stuart said. “Tell him he’s an idiot for leaving.”

“No. I don’t think he’s an idiot. He saw this as a friend with benefits relationship. I’m the idiot for wanting it to be more than that.” I wondered what Stuart was telling Andrew.

Stuart was moving back with his parents in the next town. We were going to meet for dinner in a week, so I wasn’t worried about saying goodbye to him. Besides, he was graduating with the afternoon group.

Roger was excited because he’d found work in his hometown, and he couldn’t wait to leave. On graduation morning, he had his car packed and planned to jump into it as soon as he received his diploma. I saw him outside the gymnasium and hugged him. Neither one of us had our parents here. I wished him luck and then found my place in line.

Near some trees, at the edge of the pavilion, I saw Andrew with his parents. His father was a shorter, older version of him. His mother was a spindly woman who was overdressed. I saw her put her arm on Mr. Bergman’s arm. Andrew walked toward his place in line, and his parents walked toward the entrance for those invited to the graduation.

My brain went numb during the next ninety minutes. I stood when my group stood. I walked up to the edge of the stage and listened for my name. I walked across, shook hands with the president, received my diploma, and walked back to my seat. I didn’t feel different, smarter, or anything. There was applause, and we were dismissed.

Making my way to the exit, I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, Jojo, I wanted to say goodbye before I left. I’m flying back to New York tonight.”

“I hope you have a good flight,” I replied. I fought to hold back the tears. I did not want him to see tears.

“I’ll text you when I get there, so you’ll know that I go there OK.” He smiled that wonderful smile of his. Did he not know that it was tearing my heart apart?

I nodded.

“I want you to come to see me when I get my apartment set up. Will you do that?”

“Sure.” I’m not sure why I said that.

As Andrew pulled me into a hug, a tight hug, our first public hug, I heard a voice. “Andrew, we need to go. We still need to get your things, and your mother is hungry.” A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him.

He stepped back slightly and saw the tears spill down my cheek, and then he was gone.

What will Joseph do without Andrew? Will his new job be enough to sustain him, or will he spiral down and fall victim to despair and depression?