“So,” I said, cracking mine open. “What have you been up to for the last year?”
“This and that,” Seth said. “I mostly studied so I could get the scholarship here.”
“The things people do to be near me,” I mused, looking at the sky. We were quiet for a time, and I pointed to the faint dot of Venus on the northern side. “I miss the stars.”
“Remember how starry the sky used to get in July?” he asked.
“I remember you half-naked in the grass watching them,” I said. “That was incredibly distracting. Rude.”
“Sorry.” A small smile touched his eyes. “Did you go home this summer?”
“Briefly,” I said. “Spent a week there and went to Florida with the family. You?”
“Spent the whole summer there,” Seth said. “I didn’t see you.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t want to be seen.” The silence followed, and the weight of it was heavier than it should have been. “The show earned me a lot of attention. It was nice to be in the house and not have anyone bring it up.”
“See, I thought you’d thrive on the attention,” Seth said. “Like the other night.”
“Don’t judge me based on the other night,” I said. “That was an annual outlier.”
Seth finished his can of Coke and put it back inside the paper bag, then turned to face me a little better. His leg rubbed against mine in the movement, knees touching freely. “Got you something. I know it was your birthday.” He pulled out an envelope from the inside pocket. It was small and aged.
“My birthday is in November,” I said.
“Yeah,” he agreed innocently. “Last November. I never got you anything, and you were so sweet to buy me a malfunctioning device.”
I took the envelope, my fingers brushing against his. That touch would have been gift enough. But he pulled his hand away, and I was left holding the small envelope. It wasn’t sealed. Carefully, I opened it and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper with a faded print and an ink signature done in a fountain pen.
“Figured you could stop at a pharmacy on your way to the house.” Seth lit the flashlight on his phone to shed light on the paper, and I discovered that it was an old pharmacy prescription, dated 1856.
Tinctura Belladonnae. Dose: 5 to 10 minims. Caution: Poison
I barked a laugh so loud I almost fell off the brick edge of the vent. “Nightshade. This is just delightful.” I tucked the paper back inside the envelope. “How did you know?”
Seth laughed, watching me slip the envelope inside my jacket. “I read about it. It was used as a sedative.”
“Fair enough.”
“It was also used as an eye drop to make pupils more dilated as a beauty treatment,” Seth said.
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry with horror. The things people did when they didn’t know any better. “Well. It’ll go well with the horse tranquilizer I take for my beauty sleep.”
“Try a double dose,” Seth said. “You’ll be twice as pretty.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” I said, putting a hand on his knee without thinking.
He went still.
I pulled my hand back and laughed it off. “How do you like our campus?”
“It’s good. Plenty to do around here,” Seth said.
We chatted inconsequentially for a while longer, steering clear of any subject that could have sparked another awkward moment of stillness. Yet I couldn’t keep it all down. “It’s good to see you,” I said the next time there was a silence.
“Are we getting sentimental?” Seth asked.
“If you want to,” I said. “Won’t kill us.”