Deep Cuts

by Holly Brickley

We knew each other in that vague way you can know people in college, without ever having been introduced or had a conversation.

I enjoyed myself despite a blooming awareness that I had no idea what I was doing.

My obsession with your boyfriend is largely platonic, I said telepathically. I swear she nodded slightly.

She and my dad ranked the turkey against the turkeys of years past, apparently for my benefit, and my brother detailed the various affronts that had been made to the house in our absence:

“You are truly annoying, Percy.” “I know,” I said. I took a slurp of my cocktail. “Don’t worry, I hate myself.”

I was flying home for just three and a half days, a decision my mom found so irrational she made me buy the ticket myself—which

Berkeley felt like a glitch in the modern machine, back then, an alternate universe for the chosen few.

Maybe this is how everyone feels about their college towns.

“The word ‘fun’ just sounds so trivial.” “I disagree,” I said. “We’re having fun now, and it feels profound.”

I was pretty proud of myself for these two perfect references, but they had apparently won me no gold stars.

One of the fiction writers, a guy named Harrison who had dozens of small, unrelated tattoos on his arms, had somehow gotten Turn On the Bright Lights on the Lion’s Head jukebox. He was rumored to have purchased this favor by going down on a bearded bar manager in the stock room, but you couldn’t believe everything those fiction kids said.

“I have a boyfriend,” I said. “Fuck him,” he said. “I’m your boyfriend.”

They were easy to talk to, though there was a taut line of tension between Joe and Luke, like a rubber band the guys had all learned to avoid. I accidentally tripped it a few times, once when I inquired about the next album—“We’re

Forgiveness, forgiveness: I hadn’t thought of it for myself. The idea seemed so insane I almost laughed. Forgive myself? That crazy bitch?

I can feel the terror, the shock of it, like those first seconds of an earthquake when you just sit there thinking, “Is this really happening?” and then it ends and you realize you didn’t do all the things you’d planned to do in the event of an earthquake.

but I found myself longing for a swampy Miami cab ride or a bracing winter walk through Manhattan, anything to shock my system and mark the time.

“I enjoy the way you…inhabit space.”

A few minutes later, he texted, BTW how good is the new Shins? I looked out the window with the phone on my chest for the remainder of the ride, just enjoying the feeling of having Joe to respond to.

“Zoe, I love you,” I said, then added, “More than Joe. I love you more than Joe.” She laughed. “I love you more than Joe too.” “I’m right here,” Joe said.