Coffee Talk
Meg's been spending a lot more time in her res hall lately than she ever did in the fall. She'd still rather study in the library, but getting there and back, with books and notes and pens and all, has become something of a major undertaking. It's easier to just study in her room, unless she actually needs something from the library.
It's where Saturday afternoon finds her, sitting on her bed, with her foot propped up on pillows. In theory, she's doing biology homework, but it's briefly being neglected while she talks to her roommate, Carrie.
"You actually made him study, on your study date?" Carrie asks, cheerfully incredulous.
"Well, not the whole time," Meg says. "Just . . . most of it."
"Alone with your boyfriend for two hours, and you get six chapters read." Carrie starts to laugh, and shakes her head. "Only you, Meg."
"I had things I had to get done; I told him when he called," Meg explains, but she's starting to laugh, too.
"But there was some 'date,' too, right? Not just 'study'?" Carrie asks.
"There was some . . ."
"Some hope for you, then," Carrie says.
Meg responds by throwing one of her pillows at her roommate. Carrie throws it back, and goes to answer the knock at the door, both girls still laughing.
"Am I interrupting something?" Brian asks, looking from one girl to the other.
"Not really," Meg says.
"Nothing at all," Carrie says, at the same time. "I'm just going to go do that thing we were talking about that I need to go do somewhere that's not here," she adds, grabbing her purse and her coat. "See you later, Meg. Brian."
Meg waves good-bye to her roommate and turns her attention to Brian. "Hi."
"Hi." He nods at the books on the bed. "Studying?"
"After a fashion," she says. "Nothing that can't wait."
"Good," he says, leaning over to kiss her.
"I wasn't expecting to see you this afternoon," she says.
"Thought I'd swing by and say hi."
"Hi," she says, and kisses him again.
"Oh, and I brought you something."
"Brian, you didn't have to do that," Meg says.
"I wanted to. Besides, it's nothing all that much." He hands her a styrofoam cup. "Coffee."
Oh, he really didn't have to do that.
Meg hasn't had coffee in three weeks, because the doctor told her to avoid caffeine, while her leg is healing. She and Brian had had a whole conversation about all the things she couldn't eat or drink, the first time they went out, and how nature seemed to be adding insult to injury.
"Thank you," Meg says, and while it sounds a little forced to her, Brian doesn't seem to notice.
"You're welcome."
Meg holds the cup but doesn't drink any of the coffee. "How've you been?"
Brian talks, at some length, about his classes and his friends and what he's been doing that weekend, while Meg holds her cooling cup of coffee and doesn't drink it. Finally he stops, and gives Meg a puzzled look. "That's going to get cold, you know."
Meg nods. "Coffee does that," she says.
"Well, aren't you going to drink it?"
"I . . . Brian, you know I'm not supposed to." But from the expression on his face, Meg can tell he's completely forgotten. "I'm not supposed to have caffeine while I'm . . ."
"Right, your leg," he says.
"Right."
"Come on, Meg. One cup won't hurt anything."
"It's . . . it's just that . . . it's easier to not drink any than to . . . I just want to be out of this stupid cast."
"You know, most girls would just drink the coffee. God, you are such a goody two-shoes sometimes, Meg."
Meg starts to say something, then pauses. It's not like it's an accusation she's never heard before; she's actually heard it a lot. She more or less heard it from Carrie ten minutes ago. She's used to it, she's not bothered by it, and anyway, she knows it's basically true.
But it's different, very different, when Brian says it. Or maybe it's the way Brian says it. Like it's a major personality flaw, or something she should be ashamed of or embarrassed by.
"I'm . . ." Meg starts, but can't think of what she's supposed to say next.
"Forget it," Brian says, waving one hand dismissively.
"Brian--"
"No, just forget it," Brian says. "I have some stuff I need to do. I'll let you get back to your books."
"Brian, please don't be mad, I--"
He bends down and kisses her again. "I'll call you," he says, and leaves.
Meg sets the coffee cup on the bookcase next to the bed, and wonders if she shouldn't have just shut up and drunk the damn stuff.
It's where Saturday afternoon finds her, sitting on her bed, with her foot propped up on pillows. In theory, she's doing biology homework, but it's briefly being neglected while she talks to her roommate, Carrie.
"You actually made him study, on your study date?" Carrie asks, cheerfully incredulous.
"Well, not the whole time," Meg says. "Just . . . most of it."
"Alone with your boyfriend for two hours, and you get six chapters read." Carrie starts to laugh, and shakes her head. "Only you, Meg."
"I had things I had to get done; I told him when he called," Meg explains, but she's starting to laugh, too.
"But there was some 'date,' too, right? Not just 'study'?" Carrie asks.
"There was some . . ."
"Some hope for you, then," Carrie says.
Meg responds by throwing one of her pillows at her roommate. Carrie throws it back, and goes to answer the knock at the door, both girls still laughing.
"Am I interrupting something?" Brian asks, looking from one girl to the other.
"Not really," Meg says.
"Nothing at all," Carrie says, at the same time. "I'm just going to go do that thing we were talking about that I need to go do somewhere that's not here," she adds, grabbing her purse and her coat. "See you later, Meg. Brian."
Meg waves good-bye to her roommate and turns her attention to Brian. "Hi."
"Hi." He nods at the books on the bed. "Studying?"
"After a fashion," she says. "Nothing that can't wait."
"Good," he says, leaning over to kiss her.
"I wasn't expecting to see you this afternoon," she says.
"Thought I'd swing by and say hi."
"Hi," she says, and kisses him again.
"Oh, and I brought you something."
"Brian, you didn't have to do that," Meg says.
"I wanted to. Besides, it's nothing all that much." He hands her a styrofoam cup. "Coffee."
Oh, he really didn't have to do that.
Meg hasn't had coffee in three weeks, because the doctor told her to avoid caffeine, while her leg is healing. She and Brian had had a whole conversation about all the things she couldn't eat or drink, the first time they went out, and how nature seemed to be adding insult to injury.
"Thank you," Meg says, and while it sounds a little forced to her, Brian doesn't seem to notice.
"You're welcome."
Meg holds the cup but doesn't drink any of the coffee. "How've you been?"
Brian talks, at some length, about his classes and his friends and what he's been doing that weekend, while Meg holds her cooling cup of coffee and doesn't drink it. Finally he stops, and gives Meg a puzzled look. "That's going to get cold, you know."
Meg nods. "Coffee does that," she says.
"Well, aren't you going to drink it?"
"I . . . Brian, you know I'm not supposed to." But from the expression on his face, Meg can tell he's completely forgotten. "I'm not supposed to have caffeine while I'm . . ."
"Right, your leg," he says.
"Right."
"Come on, Meg. One cup won't hurt anything."
"It's . . . it's just that . . . it's easier to not drink any than to . . . I just want to be out of this stupid cast."
"You know, most girls would just drink the coffee. God, you are such a goody two-shoes sometimes, Meg."
Meg starts to say something, then pauses. It's not like it's an accusation she's never heard before; she's actually heard it a lot. She more or less heard it from Carrie ten minutes ago. She's used to it, she's not bothered by it, and anyway, she knows it's basically true.
But it's different, very different, when Brian says it. Or maybe it's the way Brian says it. Like it's a major personality flaw, or something she should be ashamed of or embarrassed by.
"I'm . . ." Meg starts, but can't think of what she's supposed to say next.
"Forget it," Brian says, waving one hand dismissively.
"Brian--"
"No, just forget it," Brian says. "I have some stuff I need to do. I'll let you get back to your books."
"Brian, please don't be mad, I--"
He bends down and kisses her again. "I'll call you," he says, and leaves.
Meg sets the coffee cup on the bookcase next to the bed, and wonders if she shouldn't have just shut up and drunk the damn stuff.