Vow of Celibacy by Erin Judge

Author:Erin Judge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rare Bird Books
Published: 2016-08-03T00:01:51+00:00

Failure and the City

I snuck in and out of the back of Ben’s pantry at least twice a week for the rest of the winter, and, minus the snowdrifts, well into the late-arriving spring. I had an American literature class that semester—LIT 217: Fictions of the Frontier—and I often snickered to myself about how obvious it would be to any given Larry McMurtry character that I was trekking between my dorm and Shropner’s dumpsters on a regular basis. The worst tracker in world history could’ve recognized the signs.

The secrecy helped appease Ben’s increasingly hysterical fears of our discovery. Even then I recognized that his skyrocketing anxiety was more about the year ahead than the actual fact of my comings and goings. He had accepted a low-paying adjunct teaching job at two of the CUNY campuses in New York. He knew he was going to have to live on a ridiculously tight budget in the city, and, worst of all, finally leave Easton.

“Can you not knock so loud?” he said in a low voice, opening the pantry door for me one April evening.

“Why? Is there somebody here?” I stage-whispered back.

“What? Of course not,” he barked.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t sure if that was you who called.” Ben had taken to ringing me one time and then hanging up in order to signal an invitation to his apartment rather than risking an actual voice-to-voice conversation. It didn’t make a lick of goddamn sense, but to this day my adrenaline surges if my phone rings once and then stops. That is some Pavlovian shit. “I got some good news today,” I said, trying to change the subject.

“Yeah?” he said, heading for the fridge and opening a beer. He took a gulp, and I stared at him. “Help yourself, Natalie. Come on, you know that by now.” He gave me a playful kiss on the neck. Already everything felt so muddled. I was constantly annoying him by assuming too much or too little, by acting too formal or too familiar.

“Thanks, but I’m OK,” I said, grossed out by his cans of cheap malt liquor. He was already imposing austerity measures on his food and alcohol budget, getting used to how little he would have to spend in New York. He no longer stocked anything that remotely appealed to me.

“So what’s your news?” he asked, taking my hand and leading me toward the bedroom.

“I got an internship for the summer,” I said. “My friend at FIT recommended me for the job she had last year, and they accepted me.”

“At FIT?” he prompted. “In New York?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “The job isn’t at the school, it’s with a big fashion house in the area.”

Ben didn’t say anything after that. I closed the door to his bedroom behind us, and he spent a few minutes at his computer, scrolling through his music and checking his email and ignoring me. I sat on his bed, filling up with anxiety.

“Should I leave?” I finally asked, and he turned to me.

“No, I want you here,” he said, this time much more warmly and gently.

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