Week Twelve

“Okay, what is it?”

“I’m sorry?” Arthur said, turning down the radio slightly.

“What’s bothering you?” Ariella asked impatiently.

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do.” Ariella rolled her eyes (even though Arthur probably couldn’t see). Winter had come too soon, and with it so had shorter days and too long nights. Even though it was only a quarter past seven, the sky (and by extension, the inside of Ariella’s car) was pitch black.

“You know that weird, slightly creepy, over-analyzing thing you do? Doing it right now.”

“You know that thing where you go eerily quiet when you’re debating over whether or not to say something?” Ariella shot back. “Well, hate to be the bearer of bad news but—”

“Ha. Ha.” Arthur said dryly.

“But really, what is it?”

“Nothing,” he said, his voice cracking a little. He was such a bad liar it was endearing (except for now, when it was kind of annoying).

“Comeeeeee ooooooon,” Ariella said in a tooth-rottingly sweet tone. “You know you can’t keep a secret from me.”

Arthur gave a loud snort of disbelief.

“Seriously, I can tell you’re staring at me weirdly even in the dark. Just tell me already!” Ariella shoved his shoulder for emphasis.

“It’s nothing,” Arthur said with an air of finality. A moment of awkward silence past before he hesitantly said, “So…I heard you dropped out.”

“Oh my gosh, are y—really? Is that what this is about?” Ariella turned to look at him disbelievingly as they stopped at a red.

“What? I…no…I-I didn’t—” Arthur’s nervous rambling was cut off by Ariella’s loud laughter.

“Oh, shut up. I’m not mad. But would it kill you to be direct for once in your life?” Ariella said with a shake of her head as she pulled onto the freeway.

“Maybe?” Arthur said, his voice cracking again. Ariella giggled.

“Relax, you’re like the tenth person today to ask me about it.” She said wryly. “Yeah, I’m dropping out at the end of the semester.”

“But why?” Arthur asked, no longer masking his concern. “I thought things were going well? Is it Chemistry again?”

“No, it wasn’t anything like that. You definitely saved my butt with all that Chem tutoring. No, I just…” Ariella trailed off, unsure of how to explain. “I dunno. It didn’t seem like it was for me anymore, you know?”

“Not really,” Arthur admitted. “You seemed pretty happy with where you were at.”

“I never knew what I wanted. I changed my major like four times, remember?” Ariella grimaced, as if the memory were something still embarrassing, instead of something she had brought up nearly fifty times whenever Aunt Rosa’s snooty friends were around to scandalize.

“But that was in freshman year!” Arthur protested. “You were so excited to start your advanced classes last semester.”

“Yeah, well, now I’m not,” she said shortly.

“So you’re just giving up everything you’ve worked towards? You’re really telling me there’s no deeper reason here?”

“NOW he’s direct,” Ariella snapped (in a tone that was a little too reminiscent Aunt Rosa).

“I’m being serious,” Arthur said.

“So am I!” Ariella said, turning her wheel a little too aggressively as she took her exit, so that the car shook. “This wasn’t something I did impulsively or on a whim or to piss off my aunt or be a rebel or—or whatever psychoanalysis you want to try and pull, okay? I thought about it, a lot. For a long time.”

“Then why did you never mention it?” Arthur persisted.

“Arthur, you’re my friend, not my diary.” Ariella pulled at the seat belt which had seized up during the jolt. “Some things I work through on my own, believe it or not.”

He sighed loudly (whether he was trying to make her feel bad or simply express his frustration was hard to tell). “I’m just afraid this is something you’ll regret.”

“Like you regretted dropping out of med school so much?”

Ariella seemed to have finally found the magic words to shut Arthur up, and they drove in (angry) silence the rest of the way to the theater, until Ariella pulled up to the entrance.

“I think Mels is already inside. You guys can go and get the tickets while I park.”

“Fine,” Arthur said his voice level, but his arms tightly crossed. He slammed the door loudly as he exited.

Ariella felt an uncomfortable squirm in her stomach as she turned into the parking lot. It had been a low (incredibly dirty, designed to hurt) blow, she knew. But Arthur needed to get off his high horse. Good intentions or not, it was her life. He knew better than most how much she needed her friends to be supportive with her home life what it was.

She circled around twice before finally squeezing into a small compact spot. Ariella sat in silence for a moment her head resting on the steering wheel. Honestly, she could think of nothing less appealing than sitting through a movie right now. After a few moments of having a pity party, she decided to steel herself once she realized almost all feeling had now gone from her numb fingers. She gave a loud sniff as she closed the car door (though whether from the cold or her turbulent emotions, she could not tell).