An Apathy Sharper Than Hatred

“I love you… like, not as a friend. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for years. I followed you here because I couldn’t imagine life without you. I like you as more than a friend. I really— damn it!” 

Margo put her face in her hands and the mirror mimicked the motion. This was going to be a disaster. How could she possibly convey how she felt to Christine if she couldn’t even do it alone in the bathroom? There were only a couple minutes left to practice. 

She took a deep breath, and locked eyes with herself in the mirror. Inhale, exhale. She could do this. It’s not like she had trouble talking to Christine normally— in high school, she had done little else. Her thoughts, her money, her time: everything was devoted to Christine. When Christine was failing calculus, Margo had stayed up on the phone with her till midnight to tutor her on the formulae. Did this mean that Margo didn’t have time to complete her own homework before the deadline? Sometimes. 

Okay, fine: often. But it was worth it— Christine was worth it. When Christine tore her ACL playing basketball last year, Margo had woken up two hours early each day. She had driven her mom’s minivan out to Christine’s house before school and pushed Christine on wheelchair walks around the neighborhood. She had made jokes to entertain Christine and distract her from the pain. She had brought books and tea and chocolate so that Christine would know just how loved she was while she had to stay out of school. It was expensive, and tiring, to keep waking up that early and driving so far before school. But Christine was worth it, easily. 

Christine was the sun: the shining, beautiful source of Margo’s joy. And Margo was a planet spinning around her, held aloft only by the pull of Christine’s charismatic gravity. Surely she felt the same; surely that’s why she wanted to get dinner today. It was finally going to happen. It had to.  

Margo had nearly let the cat out of the bag several times before. Once, in high school, the two of them had been sitting alone in Christine’s busted up old Camry— just stalling in the driveway of Christine’s parents’ house. They had been talking for almost an hour that way, bonding over the deepest questions about life that they loved to wrestle with together. But at that precise moment, they had been sitting in silence, illuminated only by the moonlight, and it took every ounce of Margo’s self-control not to grab Christine’s head in her hands and kiss her till they both got dizzy. 

She was intoxicating: her laugh, her smile, the musky scent of her deodorant and the sweet aroma of her hairspray. She was beautiful: the way her hair fell perfectly around her face even after being in a ponytail all day, and how her powerful nose complemented her slender face so well. She was hot: she worked out and played in the sun, and anyone could easily see it. Margo had wanted to hold Christine gently in her arms almost as much as she had wanted to rip her clothes off and make her feel things she had only dreamed about before. 

But she couldn’t, and so that night they had continued to sit in pleasant silence, pondering the minutiae of life in the moonlit front seat of a lemon. 

Things had been off since they started college together. There was no denying it: Christine was adjusting a lot better than Margo was. Already, Christine has a dozen new friends, was acing her classes, and had two bids for sororities. Margo was approaching college… on a much smaller scale. She knew her roommate pretty well, and the girls next door were friendly enough. But she just didn’t want new friends or sorority sisters; she wanted Christine. 

The choice to come to a small, conservative, religious college in the freezing north— nine hours away from home— had been, to say the least, a surprising one. Margo was passionate about progressive politics— almost as passionate as she was about her problems with religion. She cared about diversity, and loved to lounge in the sun. Everything about this college should have repelled her, and to be honest, it kind of did. But she had ignored every single aspect of campus life during her college-decision-making-process in favor of one factor: where Christine would be. 

Sure, Margo had enough passion to truly change the world given the right opportunities, and her personality would have melded perfectly at the huge state school she got into (only thirty minutes from home). But Christine would be here, and Margo would be where Christine was. 

Today, things were going to change. It had been an incredibly rocky several months as a freshman in college— depression had tried fiercely to reclaim Margo’s mind for itself, and Christine’s commitment to other friends and activities hurt Margo more than she would even admit to herself. But today, it really was going to change. Finally, Christine had asked to meet up! 

She wanted to get dinner— something they hadn’t done once since moving to this place. Margo had tried on seven different outfits and three hairstyles before finally just choosing her high school sweatshirt and a ponytail. Maybe a casual look would help the conversation go more naturally. 

As she walked to the dining hall, shivering a little against the ridiculous cold (it was only October!), Margo felt giddy and energetic. Perhaps she hadn’t predicted the conversation verbatim, but she was convinced she knew the gist. Christine would tear up, grab her hand. She would say how sorry she was that she got so caught up in all the excitement of college, but that she really wanted to spend time with Margo again. She would beg for forgiveness, and Margo would humbly grant it. They would be friends again, and the time would be perfect for Margo to finally tell Christine what she had wanted to for years: I love you. 

It wouldn’t be an easy road: they both came from conservative, religious families, and this school was certainly not the safest place to explore a romantic relationship with another woman. But it would be worth it, just like everything in high school had been worth it. Because they loved each other. Because they were perfect for each other. Margo had known it for years, and as soon as she told Christine how she felt, Christine would know it too. She was so wired that she forgot to scan into the dining hall, and had to suffer a heated lecture from the lady behind the desk. But not even a formal reprimand could dampen her mood today.

After settling the meal swipe score, Margo strolled around the dining hall looking for her best friend. It was mere moments before she found the most stunning face she knew, and jogged over to the table with a grin.

“Hey, Mar,” Christine said with an awkward smile. Poor thing— she was nervous about apologizing. Margo would be sure to make clear just how much she was forgiven when the time was right. 

“Hey! Wanna grab some food before we chat? I’m starving from classes, didn’t have time for lunch,” Margo stumbled out, annoyingly eager. She needed to play this cool. Inhale, exhale. Christine shuffled in her seat. 

“Actually, do you think we could just talk real quick? I don’t think we’ll need to sit and eat really.” Margo pulled out a chair for herself and smiled up at her companion. How would she transition from forgiveness to declaring her love and devotion? Of course I forgive you for being distant lately— wanna go make out in my dorm to make up for it? Definitely not. She’d just have to wing it: Christine was already starting to talk. 

“Mar… this is so hard.”

“It’s okay! Take your time.” Margo smiled encouragingly. 

“I asked you to dinner cause I wanted to give you… a warning.” Margo’s stomach turned and her body went almost instantly cold. She was so startled by the word that she had no idea what her face was doing; she just sat frozen and waited to hear more. Christine looked uncomfortable as she continued, 

“I don’t think you should talk to Brianne anymore.” Brianne? Christine’s younger sister? What did she have to do with anything? Yes, Margo was close with her too, but why would that have anything to do with why Christine had been drawing back lately? 

“I just don’t think it’s good for her,” Christine went on, “to be so attached to you. You’re… here, in college, you know? You’re gonna make new friends and join clubs and stuff and you’re going to forget about her and it’s going to hurt. I just think you shouldn’t talk to her anymore.” 

Margo genuinely thought she might vomit right here in the dining hall. 

“I’m sorry, Mar— I’ll make sure to tell her what happened so she doesn’t wonder why you stop texting all of a sudden.” Christine looked at her watch and gave Margo an apologetic look. 

“Sorry— there’s this rush thing I have to be at… they really don’t like it if you miss one.” She stood up and started putting her coat on. 

“You get it, right?” 

Margo stared at the table as her eyes unfocused, and nodded numbly. Christine might have said something before she ran off to impress sorority girls, but Margo’s ears were ringing and she was committing most of her mental energy into not being sick. 

As she locked the door to her dorm room that night after texting her roommate that she needed some privacy, Margo reflected on how little Christine thought of her— or about her at all. As she laid on the floor and began to weep so hard she couldn’t breathe, Margo wondered how she could have been so stupid as to think that they were soulmates. As she clawed at her skin and drew blood with her fingernails, Margo realized that instead of gaining a girlfriend that night, she had actually lost two friends entirely. As she sat up and stared at the bottle of bleach through eyes nearly swollen shut with crying, Margo reflected passively that she had committed years of her life to someone that didn’t give a second thought to her at all. And as she unscrewed the lid and raised the bottle to take the big sip, Margo chuckled at the thought of Christine reading about her death in the school newspaper. 

Maybe she’d say a nice word at the funeral— if it didn’t conflict with a sorority event.