Chapter Text
I always loved summer - its warmth and its carefree nature that allowed me to express myself in ways I didn’t find possible in other seasons. Alas, it’s the end of summer again, yet it doesn’t feel like it. For the first time in years I feel actually good about the change. Maybe it’s because I am finally with the person that I’m supposed to be with. Conrad.
I still can’t believe that he chose me. That he chased after me all the way to Paris - something that no one else did. He brought me back home and I couldn’t be happier. It’s the beginning of our life together. Our moment to shine and thrive as a couple. The return of something that was inevitable, but we chose to ignore it for too long. I’m so happy that the anticipation is finally over.
However, now there’s an anticipation for something else. Graduate programme. I gulp at the mere thought of starting it, suddenly feeling anxious and out of place. “You’ve got this,” I hear Conrad’s voice.
We’re sitting in his car, it smells like new leather. Mainly because the car is indeed new. His father bought it for him as a gift when Conrad got paired up in a new medical program that’s actually close to my new university.
“Yeah…yeah, I know,” I say after a moment of pause, but I’m not convinced. Not yet. I need a hug or some kind of reassurance that everything will be fine, even though I will keep second-guessing myself. Alas, nothing like that comes out of his mouth. Instead:
“Isabel Conklin, you have a minute to get a grip,” he sighs. I can tell that he’s annoyed and rightfully so. I keep stalling it.
“I just…I need a moment, okay?” I mumble, my hand searching for him, but he’s holding a steering wheel, already checking in his mind whether the traffic will be bad or not.
“Belly…look, I can’t be late for this job, understand?” He tries to reason with me.
I nod. I understand. He’s about to be a doctor. Someone that actually can save lives. His job is important, unlike my studies. At least that’s what may or may not slipped out of his mouth during our last fight. Even though he promised that he won’t belittle my work. But hey, it happens during fights, right? People hurt each other in the heat of a moment, right? It’s not like I haven’t experienced it before. We fought a lot when we dated for the first time. Constantly, actually. And with Jeremiah-
Suddenly I can’t remember a single fight during which he was hurtful towards me. Please don’t put your inferiority complex on me, the words I said during our first fight linger and leave bad taste. Such a bad taste that it helps me to actually get out of the car.
“Atta girl,” Conrad smirks, proud of me and oblivious to what made me actually want to escape the closed space of his car. “See you tonight,” he simply adds and starts the car.
“Yeah, see you,” I mumble quietly and wave at him, forcing myself to smile. He doesn’t see it anyway. He’s already gone.
I look at the sign that says welcome to Brown University. Here I go. The defining moment of my future. If it goes well I’ll finish a prestigious university, making Conrad proud of me. And my mother. And myself of course. I can’t help, but wonder if becoming a psychologist would finally make Adam accept me as his favorite son’s girlfriend?
Is that how Jeremiah felt? Never good enough? Inferiority complex, my own words keep echoing in my head as my mind forces me to replay that fight before my eyes. Why do I keep coming back to that painful memory? Why? Just why?
I take my phone out of my pocket and scroll down the contact list to find Jeremiah. My heart throbs painfully as I open our conversation. Conversation that doesn’t exist. He didn’t reach out a single time, except for that one call on New Year’s Eve. I sigh and quickly type: Hope that the end of summer is good for you!
Should I send it? I keep debating it for a while, before finally calling myself an idiot and deleting the message. Why would I even text him? He made it painfully obvious that he doesn’t need to contact me. I should’ve understood that the moment that Conrad showed up at my door in Paris and said that Jeremiah’s fine with him being with me.
My heart throbs again in a way that’s rather uncomfortable. Focus, I tell myself.
I go through the campus, looking at the faces around me. I don’t know anyone. Sure, I expected it. I knew that it would be like this. That choosing being close to Conrad, means leaving my old environment behind. It’s alright, because I have him. The boy I loved when I was little. Alas, it would be nice to have Taylor here or anyone from Paris. I talked about it with Conrad last night, actually.
“I’m worried that I won’t make friends,” I confessed at night.
“But you’re not going to be there to make friends, right? You’ll be there to study,” he reminds me.
His words are like a knife to my heart. Suddenly I feel like I’m sixteen again and he tells me to look in the mirror. It hurts. But he’s right, isn’t he? I’m supposed to be studying here, not partying and being overly sociable. I went through that phase in Paris as he kept reminding me, saying that it wasn’t a good look on me. That he prefers the calm Belly that couldn’t handle her liquor when she was younger. And for him I’m willing to be that Belly again. Because that’s what love is about, isn’t it?
Suddenly I get a text message. I pull my phone out of my pocket once again, my hands trembling as I unlock the screen only to be met with a text from Taylor. You’ve got this biaaatch, she wrote. I can’t help, but chuckle, even though I hoped for a message from someone else.
Jeremiah. He sure must know that I’m in Brown now, right? I know that he talks with Taylor and Steven and they had to tell him. I mean, why wouldn’t they? Unless…he doesn’t want to talk about me? Or does he? Ugh, I’m doing it again, don’t I? Reminiscing about him. I should really stop, but I can’t. Somehow it bothers me that he did not make a single attempt to contact me after New Year’s Eve. Why? Should I ask Taylor? I avoid talking about him with her. With anyone actually. It’s like a wound that I pretend is healed just so no one would be alarmed. No one noticed so far and part of me hopes it will stay this way, maybe even fade away with time.
I get in the right building where I’m supposed to have my first lecture this academic year. The hallway welcomes me with a sterile scent of detergents, a sign that it was properly scrubbed earlier this morning. Now I can understand why Conrad isn’t bothered by the smell of the hospital. Brown got him used to it. I wonder if I’ll accept it too? I should, right? Since we’re together now, I might visit him at work, just to bring him a sandwich or steal a quick kiss when he’s busy.
The place isn’t as crowded as I imagined it to be. I’ve always pictured Conrad passing through those people, completely unbothered and cool like he always was when in my eyes when we were teenagers. But it seems different now. It looks like he fitted here perfectly with his aloof persona. And now I’m here as well, finally belonging to him and to his life. It’s nothing like Paris, nor Finch.
Finch. My stomach hurts at the mere thought about that place. It’s good that I’m not there. That place holds too many memories that I should leave behind me. Memories that carry a weight that I don’t think I’m capable of lifting, at least not on my own.
The class is about to begin and I take the place in the second row. I’m here to study, after all. Not to make friends, right? I made those as a kid. And at Finch. And in Paris. I don’t need more friends.
“Hey, I’m Beck,” the girl that chose a seat next to me says and I can’t help, but smile. Suddenly I’m feeling lighter, like my time here won’t be as miserable as I feared it would be. We exchange a few words before the professor enters the class and the lecture begins with his laptop bag being thrown at the desk with a loud sound that makes us all freeze in place.
“Good morning. I’m professor Lahey and in this class we’ll learn about developmental psychology,” he begins.
I can’t help, but be excited. I open my laptop and begin to note right away. Conrad would be proud. My mother too. I’m getting one step closer to the career of my dream. I listen to every word that professor Lahey says, writing down every single piece of information about physical development. It’s not that exciting, but the syllabus for this semester looks promising. You have to start somewhere, right? Just like me and Conrad. We had to start somewhere. Just like me and Jeremiah-
No. Just no, I tell myself and keep noting, forcing my brain to stay focused on the actual subject of the lecture.
“During adolescence, hormones are driving not just physical changes, but also intense emotions and impulsive decisions,” professor Lahey says halfway through the lecture, getting my attention. “Hormones surge, the brain is still developing, and every feeling can feel amplified. You might experience intense crushes, dramatic friendships, or conflicts that seem unbearable at the time. But who am I lecturing? You’re all past that, you know what I’m talking about,” professor continues and many people around me chuckle knowingly.
My heart sinks to my stomach, fingers keep shakingly typing down his words that somehow hit me in a different way that my peers. I don’t feel like chuckling or laughing at myself. I feel…weird, uncomfortable even.
You might experience intense crushes. Isn’t that exactly what I felt when I was around Conrad? What part of me still feels when we’re close? Bullshit, I immediately contradict my initial thought. If it was just an intense crush instead of the eternal flame it would surely be put down as soon as I started dating Jeremiah, wouldn’t it?
Jeremiah. He keeps coming back in my thoughts. I check my phone discreetly again. I don’t know why I’m doing it. It’s been months since our conversation. I’m not even sure if I remember his voice properly. Do I picture it low enough? It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. Conrad does. He chose me. He got me back home from Paris.
In the meantime, professor Lahey continues dwelling on the subject: “What feels like a deep connection at fourteen may actually be your brain’s way of responding to novelty and excitement, not a rational choice."
Interesting. But it can’t possibly apply to me and Conrad. I mean, come on. We were meant to be, like it was written in stars. Susannah knew it and she knew the best. Our connection is still real, just more mature. Unlike mine with Jeremiah. Our was…was…suddenly I lack words to describe our relationship. The only description that comes to mind is well-rounded. Which is an odd way to describe a relationship that wasn’t meant to be, right? Right?
There are a couple more classes today, but they’re not as interesting as the one with professor Lahey. “Wanna go to the nearby bookstore to check some of the books that professors recommended?” Beck asks and I immediately agree. Two other people join us and we enter the place. The smell is different here from other locations at campus that I visited so far. It smells like mint and raspberries, which is an odd combination that somehow works.
“See anything interesting?” One of the two other girls - Harper, asks.
“Not yet,” I shrug.
“Keep looking around. You might find something that you didn’t notice at first,” she says and I decide to take her advice. Thank god I did. Otherwise I wouldn’t find Marcel Proust’s book collection on sale. It’s not exactly on my syllabus, but professor Lahey mentioned In search of lost time as an eye-opening masterpiece that might help us understand some of the cases that we’ll talk about during class from a completely new angle.
As soon as we leave the bookstore, the girls invite me to the nearest pub, but before I manage to agree, Conrad shows up. “Hey,” he greets me with a smile. No hug, no kiss. I’m getting used to it. That’s who he is. He’s never been an affectionate type of person. I just got used to something entirely else with Jeremiah and now I have to unlearn that pattern for the sake of this relationship that we fought so much for. “I’m Conrad, nice to meet you,” he offers a handshake to my new friends and they chuckle at his politeness. “What were you talking about?” He asks.
“We were planning on hitting a pub. You’re welcome to join,” Beck says.
He slightly furrows, even though he keeps smiling. But I can tell that he’s disapproving. His eyes give it all away. He puts his hand around my waist, pulling me closer and it calms me down. He’s showing affection. In public. Maybe I don’t need Jeremiah, after all? Maybe Conrad is actually able to give it to me?
“Belly, I was thinking about taking you out for dinner. Just the two of us?” He looks at me, ignoring my new friends.
I blush slightly, suddenly I’m this teenage girl that swoons over a boy all over again. I can’t help it. “I…I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?” I barely say and leave with Conrad. Just a few steps towards his car and he retreats his hand, putting it in his pocket. I shiver at the sudden coldness. “Is everything alright?” I ask quietly as we get in his car.
“You were supposed to be studying,” he sighs as he starts the engine, leaving the parking lot. “Not partying. You’re not in Finch nor Paris anymore, remember?” His voice is cold.
“Sorry,” I simply say, looking down. I just don’t want to see the look of utter disappointment painted all over his face. I swear to god that he looks like my mom when he does that - a concerning habit that I choose to ignore for the sake of my happiness.
“And what’s with the book collection? They don’t look like psychology textbooks,” he says as he keeps driving. The area looks familiar, I wonder whether he’s taking me to dinner at one of those nice restaurants near our apartment. We always said that we would try the menu, but we didn’t have the opportunity yet. I’m glad that it will finally happen. When I was sixteen I often daydreamed about him taking me out to a proper dinner. Just the two of us. Now I might finally get to experience that.
“They’re not, but my professor recommended reading it. Marcel Proust is a genius, at least in his opinion,” I try to defend my purchase, but unsuccessfully.
He clicks his tongue. “It’s a waste of time if it’s not on the syllabus. Not to mention a waste of money. May I remind you that you’re not working and we’re basically living off my and my dad’s money?” He says calmly.
My face turns beet red as he says that. “Sorry,” I say again, hoping that it would improve the already tense atmosphere, but it doesn’t seem to work. Sorry is never enough with Conrad. Apology acceptance must be earned, ideally with a behaviour improvement. “I thought that you were taking me out to dinner?” I say as he parks in front of our apartment building.
“Did I? I meant eating at home together. I bought chicken on my way to pick you up from Brown,” he says.
I don’t even dare to sigh in response, I’m too tired to fight him on this one as it seems too trivial to be actually worth it.
What feels like a deep connection at fourteen may actually be your brain’s way of responding to novelty and excitement, I remember professor Lahey’s words. Could that be true? The echo of his voice bouncing in my mind. Suddenly, the memory of him - the rush, the butterflies, the way everything felt so impossibly intense - feels different. Not wrong, just… smaller somehow, like I’m seeing it through a clearer lens. And maybe, just maybe, I’ve been holding on to the idea of him, rather than who he really was. A shiver runs down my spine as we get home.