Saving Elijah

eyes. "Remember that old John Sebastian song? 'Do You Believe in Magic?'"

    *    *    *

    "Where are you, Dinah?" David asked me at some point during a bout of clumsy sex that night. "I'm here," I said. But I was thinking about Sam, wanting to make love with him, wanting to feel his lean body, his skin, him. I knew it would be slow, and tender, and passionate.
    The next day, New Year's Day, I went back to sleep after everyone went out to hit the slopes.
    "Dinah?"
    Sam's voice. I opened my eyes. He was standing in the doorway, still wearing his parka.
    He took a deep breath. "I should have asked you out last year," he said. "Then we wouldn't be in this mess."
    . Oh, God. If he'd asked me out then, he would have been my first and only. I'd never even have met Seth Lucien.
    "What mess?"
    He looked at me for a long time. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Dinah," he said, and he came in.
    That first time was passionate and tender, and thrilling, and full of sweet, dizzying joy. It was also dangerous. We knew we might be discovered at any moment, which made it twice as sexy, and I had that cast, which made it funny and awkward, too.
    "I never knew," I said.
    "Knew what?"
    I kissed him. "How great, how intense, how ..."
    "Magical?"
    "Yes." I laughed. "Magical. And fun—nobody ever even told me sex could be fun."
    He nuzzled into my neck. "I love your neck, Dinah. Has anyone ever told you how beautiful it is? Just like a swan."
    Well, no.
    We laughed a lot, and we kept remarking on how we'd both known almost from the first moment at that bar on M Street. I didn't mention Seth Lucien, I didn't mention the accident. I never wanted to think about any of that again. And the wrenching subject of Julie? When it came up, and it did that morning, we were already dressed.
    "What are we going to do?" he said.
    "I don't know," I said. "I don't know."

    *    *    *

    I broke up with David as soon as we got back, and Sam broke up with Julie. She came back to the dorm after he told her and slammed her books down.
    "How could he do this? Damn him!" She started to cry. "I was sure he liked me, I thought we would ... Now I've been dropped—he thinks I'm getting too serious about him. Oh, Dinah, I can't unlove him."
    "It has only been two months," I said weakly.
    "I know, but he's the first guy who's ever made me feel... I mean, who treated me like a human being. How could he do this, Dinah? I felt so comfortable with him."
    I stared at her. For me, it was far more than comfort. For me, being with Sam was like coming home.
    "At least he's not in my class this semester," Julie said, "so I don't have to look at him every day." At least.
    Sam and I had vowed to stay away from each other until Julie felt better and started dating again. We'd meet surreptitiously, but never anyplace where we were alone, much less where there was a bed. My desire to be with him burned brighter and hotter with each passing day.
    About a month later, on a cold February day, we spent a few hours together, poking around Georgetown, our conversation returning again and again to Julie. "Maybe if I just tell her I want to go out with you casually," I said, "like it's no big deal, she might be able to accept it that way."
    "I have a feeling no matter what you do it's going to turn out badly, Dinah."
    I huddled into my coat. "If I handle it right, maybe it won't."
    "Maybe I should talk to her again," he said. "Don't think you're the only one who feels guilty about this. And stupid, too." He grinned. "Never thought of myself as a heartbreaker."
    Without breaking stride, I linked my arm through his, leaned over and kissed him. "Well, you are."
    Julie did seem to be calming down. She'd even had a few dates. That night, I cornered her as she came into the dorm room.
    "I ran into Sam today."
    "You did?" Her pale eyes blazed hopeful. "What did he say?"
    "We had a cup of coffee."
    "And?"
    "And nothing. He's a nice guy."
    "Did you tell him how upset I am?"
    "Seems like you're starting to get over it."
    "Do you think ... does he still have feelings for me?"
    "He feels terrible that he hurt your feelings."
    She put her books down, took off her coat and pitched it at her desk. "Big deal, he feels terrible. Time to get out my violin."
    I took a breath. "Jules? Would you mind terribly if I went out with him? As a friend, I mean."
    She stared at me for a long moment, studying my face. "What?" she said finally.
    "You know. Like a friend." I sounded less convincing by the