On an Edge of Glass

“Whatever.” Mark drops his hand dismissively.  “You already told me that Brian and Pam were fine about the LSAT and Columbia.”
                  I shake my head and give him a look.  “Yeah, my parents were surprisingly okay about my lackluster scores, but that doesn’t mean that I’m happy that I flushed my entire future down the toilet.”
                  That’s the truth.  And, that, I remind myself is exactly why I shouldn’t devote any more of my time to Ben Hamilton.  I let myself get engrossed with him last semester and look what happened.
                  “Will you stop being such a drama queen?  You applied to a hundred other law schools and I know that you’re going to end up someplace just as awesome as Columbia.” 
                  I incline my head.  “I doubt I’ll end up someplace just as awesome.”
    Mark rolls his eyes.  “Ellie, I told you weeks ago to scream, shout, or cry, then get over it.  Instead of purging all that negativity, you’ve become a dweller.  And you know that I hate dwellers.  All that sniveling and whining…”
    “ Thanks Mark.  You make me sound like a cranky toddler.”
    “Well, if the shoe fits. ”  Mark nudges me with his elbow.  “I just don’t want to see you turn your very last semester of college into some arbitrary self-inflicted punishment, Ellie-bear.”
    I close my eyes.  “I know that you’re just t rying to help, but I’m fine.  I really am.  And the stuff that happened with Ben is for the best.  We were doomed for a bad ending from the beginning.”  This is the line that I’ve been feeding my sorry self for six weeks and I’m almost to the point where I believe it.  Ben and I were always too different to make it work.  We were destined to choose separate paths.  He’s a musician and I’m an aspiring corporate attorney.  Logic tells me that the two roads never shall meet.
    “Maybe not…”
    “Mark, you’re the one who warned me that he was just getting out of a relationship and orbiting a completely different planet than the one that I live on.”
    “I know, but—”
    I’ve had enough of this conversation.  Just thinking about this stuff twists me inside out.  “No buts .  Let’s just leave it alone.  Ben and I are fine as friends.”
    Mark turns away to order but it’s obvious that he still wants to say something.  After we get our cappuccinos and sit down at a small table in the corner, I tell him to spit it out. 
    The sides of his mouth are turned down in a thoughtful frown.  “If you and Ben are so fine then what’s with the radio silence?”
    “ For your information, we’re not silent.  Did it ever occur to you that maybe we don’t have a lot to say to each other?”
    Mark’s eyebrows go up a notch , and I know that he doesn’t believe me.  That’s understandable.  I don’t really believe me either.
    “Ellie, I still think you should at least try to talk to him about what happened.  Maybe if—”
    I don’t let him finish.  “ Maybe we should go back to when you said that it was okay if I didn’t want to discuss Ben.”
    “ Touché,” he chides as he takes a sip from his cup.  “If we’re banned from talking about your calamitous love life, then you realize that we’re going to have to talk about mine, right?”
    Despite myself, I laugh .  “Oh Lord, and the Hal Shepherd saga continues.”
    Mark leans across the table and lowers his voice.  “So listen to this …”
     
     
     
    When I get to my statistics class that afternoon, some guy is in my seat.  I’ve noticed him before.  Aaron or Elliot or something like that.  He raises his hand a lot and I get the impression that he likes the sound of his own voice.  I think he’s a Political Science major. 
    Ainsley would call him a “tall drink of water.”  He’s got sun-kissed chestnut hair smoothed back away from his forehead, broad shoulders, and a clean-shaven jaw that surrounds an oval mouth.  He’s wearing an ironed button down paired with a simple sweater.  God, it’s like stumbling into a parent’s wet dream.
                  This class doesn’t really have assigned seating, but it’s pretty standard to choose your seat on the first day and stick with it, so I find it a bit odd that he’s lounging in my chair with his ankle cocked casually on one knee.  He’s writing something in a spiral notebook. 
                  I