Blunt Force Drama Ch. 04-06

These three chapters depend very much on reading the first three chapters. This chapter starts minutes after the end of Chapter 3, with Matt and Angie returning from their first date at a fancy restaurant after a very romantic day.

Chapter 4

We go up to my room and she sits on my bed. I hang my suit jacket over the back of the chair and sit next to her.

"Before we start anything, I want to set some expectations. I'm not ready to go all the way tonight. I want to make that clear now, before we go there out of excitement. I think you know I want to. But that's too far for me right now."

I'm sure she senses my disappointment.

"But I hope to explore farther than I let us go this afternoon. There is plenty of other fun we can have, fun that I think I'm ready for."

The qualification of 'I think' makes me a bit nervous, but I'm eager to see what is in store.

She leans over to kiss me and we are right back to the passionate kissing we were doing this afternoon. After several minutes I reach a hand up to cup her breast. I pause for a second and start to ask, "Is this -" but she nods yes before the question is even out.

The dress is much harder to cop a feel through than was her thinner blouse. I do like that my fingers can feel the bare skin of the top of her breast. But I just can't make it work otherwise like it did this afternoon.

I try to reach a hand inside her neckline, looking for any reaction. She is not objecting, but the angle is all wrong. Finally, she pushes me away. I think that might be the end of that adventure. To my delighted surprise, she pulls the top of her dress over her shoulders, pulling her arms out and letting the garment roll down to her waist. She then reaches behind herself and unfastens her bra and pulls it off, tossing it onto the floor.

"See if this works better for you."

She's now naked from the middle of her belly up, her bosoms fully exposed to me. I cannot resist and bring my face down to suckle her tit. My right hand comes up to fondle the other breast. Angie moans and then lies back. I follow her down, never losing contact with her chest. I can sense her hunger. She wants me to do more.

I swap my mouth to her left breast and I bring my left hand to replace it on the right, pinching that nipple. I put my right hand on the inside of her thigh, inside her dress. I look at her, she nods her approval. I slide my hand up as she spreads her legs to give me easier access.

I find her panty, already damp from her excitement. I run my fingers along the ridge of her lips, feeling their shape through the silkiness of her undergarment. Her moans are becoming needy.

"Put your fingers in me, Matt. I need your fingers in me. I need them now."

I slide her panty aside and slip two fingers into her. She rewards me with a groan. I'm repeatedly driving my fingers in and out as I continue to bite and pinch her nipples. She's getting desperate.

I pull my mouth away from her breast so I can watch her face. As I focus on it, I can feel each motion I'm making. I tune both hands to adapt to what I sense, making everything feel even better to her. I reach my thumb up, searching for her clit, using her sense of it to guide my blind search. There it is. I'm stroking her clit with my thumb while my fingers remain inside her. It will not be long now.

And she explodes. She yelps once then just clenches her jaw, her abdomen taut as a board. Each hand grabs a fistful of the blanket. I feel her orgasm playing out. I maintain my attentions until the very last second, easing off as her orgasm subsides.

I close my eyes, breaking the near trance I was in while melding with her. I realize I came as well, leaving a big wet spot in the crotch of my pants. Oh well, I need to dry clean these I guess.

Before I can complete the thought, she is crying. She pushes me off, pulls her dress up partway to mostly cover her breasts, and runs out of the room sobbing. I call out to her; she pays no attention and continues out of sight.

A minute later, I can hear her in her room, crying. Not just her inner voice, I can hear her crying through my floor. The old fashioned way, with my ears.

I try to listen to her inner voice, but her thoughts are a garbled mess. She thinks she is going to Hell now. And she thinks she is a bad person, a slut. A lot of other self shaming. I guess she really hadn't conquered that interior battle, just buried the puritanical beast for the day. But her orgasm resurrected it and the angry beast is now rampaging through her psyche, destroying all that it sees.

I cannot keep listening to her; this hurts too much. I brought this on her. She is now broken because of me. I'm staring out the window, trying to decide what I can do for her. She is in such pain. Even when I'm not listening psychically, I can still hear her sobbing.

The sobbing seems to be slowing, so I listen to hear how she is doing. She is trying to think about the good parts of the day that were not sexual, give herself something to anchor back to. But then she worries she has alienated me with tonight and the sobbing is back to full blast again.

I grab my phone and text . I love you no matter what. Let me help you. Let me help take care of you

I hear her phone buzz in her room. Her sobs soften while she reads the message. I'm listening to her inner voice as my ears listen to what clues they can hear. She is feeling better. Then the monster tells her she can't see me anymore; I will corrupt her. The Angie that was in my room an hour ago starts to argue back, it's not Matt's fault. It's hers. But she fears that she isn't good for me, she is too crazy and will take me down with her. The phone gets thrown into the corner. My ears can hear the bang as it hits the wall. And the sobs start again.

It's a long night. The cries never completely stop. I'm sitting on my bed, back against the wall as her cries come through the floor. I occasionally drift off, but I'm always awakened by her sobs shortly thereafter. Or from a new pang of her inner voice. Around 7AM, I hear a knock on my door.

"Are you awake, Matthew, it's Aya

"I'm awake. You can come in."

She walks in and sees me, still in my suit pants and dress shirt, sitting on the bed, bleary eyed with tear streaks down my cheeks.

"Matthew, what happened with you two last night? I think she has been crying for ten hours straight."

"You could hear that too?"

"My room is directly below hers, two floors below this room. Yeah I could hear her crying. Up to a few hours can be healthy. This is not."

She looks at me sternly.

"I have to ask you, did you assault her last night?"

"No. We had agreed in advance what we would do. She said she wasn't ready to go all the way, which I was fine with. I just want to make her happy. She has been very torn on doing anything sexual with me. I think I was being patient and supportive of her. Yesterday morning, I thought she had resolved her internal conflict. She was happy all day, dropping double entendres about what we would do."

"Did you try to push it then?"

"No. Not at all. Because I knew she had been torn, I gave her a chance to say no at each step of the way. She nodded for me to put my hand up her dress. She explicitly told me to put my fingers in her. I got her off feeling her up and she just started crying and ran out of the room. From what I could understand, she thought she was going to Hell and was a slut."

"And that is what you think happened? I will ask her too, you know."

"Really truly. I love her more than anything. I would've been willing to limit it to holding hands if that's what she needs. Here, I will show you the text I sent her. I would've been apologizing if I thought she thought I had done anything wrong. If I heard what I think I did, she threw her phone into the corner when she read my text."

She looks at the text, then says, "I do believe you Matthew, but I need to do what is best for her, too. I'm going to try to see if I can talk to her."

"I have her fancy shoes and her bra here, if you think she wants them back now."

"Why don't we wait to return them."

"Oh, I have her flowers here, too."

"I will take those down with me. She might like them."

I wish I could've told Aya more about what I know, but I couldn't figure out how to explain how I know it.

I hear Aya knock on Angie's door as she says, "Angie, it's Aya."

I listen in on Angie to fill in what I can just barely hear through the floor. Angie takes a deep breath to calm down to talk to Aya, then says "It's open".

"I was worried about you, Angie, are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, could you hear me crying?"

"Both Matthew and I could hear you. I don't think Matthew slept anymore than you did last night. He is worried about you. He gave me the flowers to bring down for you."

"Thank you. They're so beautiful. Wasn't it nice of him to get them for me?"

That is the happiest feelings I've heard from her all night.

"Yes it was. You might want to change out of your dress before you make a mess of it. It would be a shame to ruin such a beautiful dress. I will tell you what, why don't I pop down to my room and grab a vase for your flowers while you get changed into something comfortable. I will be right back."

I can hear the door shut and Angie scrambles around getting out of her dress and her panties and putting on a fresh set of clothes. There is a knock at the door again.

"It's me, Aya."

"Just a minute. Okay, I'm decent now."

Aya walks in with the flowers in a simple glass vase. I can see them through Angie's eyes. It is a nice vase for them. She sets them on her desk. They are making Angie happy.

"Can you tell me what happened last night to make you so unhappy? You seemed so happy when you left for dinner."

"Dinner was wonderful. Matt was so handsome last night, wasn't he? Then we went up to his room and did some stuff."

"Did he force you to do anything?"

"Oh, don't get Matt in trouble for this."

She is starting to cry again.

"He only did exactly what I asked him to, what I wanted him to. He was a perfect gentleman. And a splendid lover, if that is what it is called when he does that. I mean we didn't actually have sex."

"I heard from him what he said happened and you two have pretty compatible stories. I just had to check that he didn't assault you."

"He told you?"

"I asked him to tell me what happened. He was worried I was accusing him of raping you."

"Why would you think he would?"

"I would hope he wouldn't, but that was the most obvious reason why you would be crying like you were. I'm glad it's not true. I like both of you. But it's not healthy to cry that much for that long. Can you tell me why you were crying?"

Angie is fidgeting, uncomfortable answering this question. She thinks Aya will think she is crazy.

"Do you think I'm going to Hell for what I did with him last night? He gave me an orgasm, purely for my pleasure."

"First off, I think you and I have different religious beliefs, so different ideas about Hell. And different definitions of sin. But if what you did will send you to Hell, you will see most of this campus there with you. There are very few virgins here."

"I'm still a virgin."

Aya laughs. "I guess you are. And there are probably fewer women who've received an orgasm from a man than women who've lost their virginity."

"You mean a woman can lose her virginity and not have an orgasm?"

Aya laughs again. "All too often, Angie. You've a lot to learn about the world of sex, don't you. Let me take a stab at answering my original question. Deep inside you, you fundamentally believe that what you did last night with Matthew was wrong. A sin. But you really wanted to do it, so you ignored what you believed and did it anyways. And now you feel guilty about it."

"That about sums it up."

"This is going to keep tearing you up until it is resolved. We need to do something."

"I was thinking I would stop seeing Matt. Then maybe I won't be tempted to sin."

No, Angie, no. That is not a solution. I want to scream through the floor, but I hold my tongue.

Even without hearing me, Aya defends my position, "You can try that, although he is not going to be very happy with that approach. You could always move to a convent and become a nun. I'm sure you've read enough literature where that was the approach for a woman with what we would call today a healthy appetite. I was going to suggest talking to someone who can help you find the right path through this. The right path for you. One that you can live with."

"Like who?"

"The two obvious choices are a chaplain or a mental health counselor. I cannot make you go. Ultimately it has to be your decision. But I can walk you over to either right now. It would be my strong recommendation for you."

"If I go to a mental health counselor, does that mean I'm crazy?"

"Lots of people go to mental health counselors. That does not mean you're crazy. It means you care about your mental health, which everyone should. Is that what you want to try?"

"I think so."

"Is there anything you want to bring with you?"

"Let me find my phone. I threw it over here. Damn, I cracked the screen. At least it still works."

I decide that I shouldn't listen in on this, as much as I'm dying to hear what she has to say. I don't want to become her stalker.

I get out of yesterday's clothes and take a shower. It's going to be embarrassing explaining to Angie why I need to take my suit pants to be cleaned. I soak for a long time in the shower and feel better for it. I will probably be very tired this afternoon, but I'm doing okay for now. At least I got good night's sleep the previous three nights.

I check my phone, just in case Angie texted me. I throw on some clothes and head over to the FoodMart to grab some breakfast. I'm about to pay when I realize the problem with my dining plan. Damn it, another problem to resolve today. I pay on my debit card again, using my own money. That fund is dwindling far too fast to make it through the semester.

I sit at the table by myself. I check my phone again. Still nothing from Angie. I'm about to give up and start walking over to class when she comes by, heading to her room. I wave to her, she hesitates for a moment, then comes over.

"Before you say anything, Matthew, I've something to say. I'd like to stay friends with you -- you're really the only friend I have. But until I can work everything out in my head, I need us to stay just friends. No sex, no kissing, no holding hands, no talk of love. I know I'm asking a lot of you, but it's what I need right now. Can you do that? The alternative has to be avoiding you altogether, which is going to be hard for both of us."

"I can certainly do all that. You know how I feel."

I can hear her saying in her head, Don't tell me this, Matt. I feel it too, but I can't admit it.

"And that won't change. But I will not mention it again. I will do what ever it takes to keep as much of you in my life as I can. Plus, I still need rides to the hospital three times a week. Are we on for lunch today?"

"Sounds good. Thank you, Matt. Beyond all your other attributes, you're a good friend and I value your friendship."

She heads up to her room to get her stuff for her class while I go to mine. Today is the most engaged I've been in a classroom yet. I ask a few questions, not as many as I normally would, but I was capable of interacting. I think last night numbed everything a bit, which is not a bad thing right now.

I decide to keep working with the recordings for my eleven o clock, since that worked well for last week. I take the time to stop by the Dean's office. When I get there, Janet says, "Hi Matthew, Are you here to talk to Dean Fernandez?"

I nod my head. "If he's available."

"He's in a meeting right now, but my guess is that will end in a few minutes. If it does, he has about ten minutes until his next appointment. He should be able to talk to you then."

"Thank you, Janet. You and the Dean have been so good to me. I really appreciate your help."

"Thank you for that, Matthew. Dean Fernandez likes to take care of all the students."

"Yeah, he has a heart of gold for us. And you have a steel trap mind to make sure it actually happens."

She smiles knowingly. She appreciates me noticing. I get the sense that my comment just made her day. I like being able to do that.

I sit in the chair next to Janet's desk watching how she works. I listen to her thought stream as she moves through task after task, mentally checking things off as she goes. I'm trying to learn how she does it. If the privacy laws knew about telepathy, I would probably be violating them. While I wait here, she has sent three responses to appeals of being dismissed. No one I know though.

The door opens and the Dean steps out with a slightly older man, probably in his late fifties. Dean Fernandez sees me behind the other man, saying, "Hi Matthew. Let me introduce you."

He encourages the older man to turn around. I realize I should stand up.

"Graham, this is Matthew Bergman, an exceptional student of ours, an art history major working his way through a bit of a horrific accident last week. And Matthew, this is Graham Gordon, one of our most active alumni."

Graham reaches out his hand and I shake hands with him. I read from him how hard I should squeeze; I think I manage to get it right.

"Art History is it? What would you like to do with that?"

"Ideally, I would like to help curate exhibitions in an art museum. But I know that's a hard gig to get. I've applied for internships with the local art museums for this summer, but I've not heard back yet."

He's working on remembering my name and thinking about who he can contact. I have the sense he can get me an interview. Whoever he is, I'm guessing he is rich and powerful.

Once Graham has left, the Dean turns to me, "I have a few minutes before I need to head off for a meeting. Why don't you come in."

We head in the door as he keeps talking.

"Please close the door behind you. I hear you've become close with Angie Lopez. Wonderful girl. I think you two will be great together."

"That's right, she said you interviewed her for something."

He outwardly ignores the question, but smiles. I just found out that whatever she was interviewing for, she won. The announcement's in a few weeks. And it seems big.

"Am I right in guessing that Mr Gordon has some connections at one of the museums?"

"You are perceptive aren't you. Yes, he's a major donor to both museums. I suspect you will be getting an interview for an internship at one or both museums. Be aware, all he's getting you is an interview. It will not guarantee a job. That's up to you at the interview. But I trust you will do well in that."

He really has a high opinion of me. I'm not sure how he got that, but I will take it.

"I assume you're here about the screw up with your dining plan. My apologies for that. Did you see my e-mail about it?"

"I'm sorry, Angie was having an issue this morning and that kind of distracted me."

He frowns. "I just saw Aya's report about that."

He wants to ask me more, but he isn't allowed to talk about what he knows. I now know that she does have on-going meetings with the counselor, which is good.

"I'm not sure I got any sleep last night and I didn't think to check my e-mail before class. I had actually forgotten about the problem with the meal plan until I was about to pay this morning."

"Well, it turns out the dining service cannot automatically handle what they told me they could do for you. I'm going to work this unusually, but I have to have your word that you won't abuse the only solution I've found."

"I guess so, but I don't actually know what I'm agreeing to."

"Of course you don't. Sorry about that. I'm going to give you a credit card tied to my office. I need your word that you will only use it for your meals at FoodMart. And you won't try to splurge with it. What you've been eating so far is fine. And no more meals than you have for the meal plan. Can you promise that?"

"Absolutely. Thank you so much. I was starting to worry about it. I took Angie out for a very expensive dinner last night for our first real date. And I've run into a bunch of little unexpected expenses the last few days, so I was getting a little nervous about my savings lasting the semester."

"You did spend your own money for a few meals, didn't you. Let me think about how to reimburse you for those. The dining service payment system is not the easiest to work around, it turns out. Was that everything?"

"The card itself?"

"Janet has that. Check in with her on your way out."

"I have a really weird question. And I can't tell you why I want to ask it. Can I ask you?"

"I don't know what the question is, so I might say no once you ask, but fire away."

"Where did your family live while you were an undergraduate?"

"In South Florida, Broward County."

He's trying to figure out where this is going.

"Did you have pink flamingos in the yard?"

"Yes we did. Why?"

And he makes the connection where he knows the name Anna Chekhov from. He knew she had a crush on him. He thought she was cute. He's remembering her fondly. My work here is done.

"Sorry, we each have our own privacy rules."

I can hear his thoughts as I'm leaving the office. He's assuming Anna set me up to ask about him. He's intrigued. He's considering calling her up to ask her out.

"Here's your card, Matthew," Janet says. "You look quite pleased with yourself."

"I'm hoping I just did a favor for Dean Fernandez. And my doctor."

I'm walking away when Dean Fernandez comes hurrying out of his office. I'm getting good at combining my abilities with my normal hearing to listen in on conversations that are not quite at an audible level.

"Janet, do you have the -"

"Here are the papers for your meeting, You have a lunch at the cafe with Sean Wu at 12:15. Then back here."

"Thank you Janet, I could not survive without you. While I am gone, can you look up Matthew's neurologist's number? Anna Chekhov is her name. I think she may be an old friend I had forgotten about. I may try to get together with her."

Janet now knows exactly why I was smiling. And she appreciates my effort. She thinks Ethan needs to find a woman. I'm winning a strong ally in a good place.

I go to the health center to get my bandage checked, then go by the FoodMart on the way back to the dorm. It's a bit early for lunch; I will save half of it for when Angie gets here with her food. But I want to make sure my card works before Janet goes off to lunch.

The clerk looks at me oddly, but the card works and I have a sandwich, a cup of soup, and an iced tea for lunch, curtesy of the Dean's office. Sweet.

I sit at the table in the lounge and eat my soup. It's a Mexican beef and vegetable soup and it's surprisingly good. I leave a little bit in case Angie would like a taste. I may try more of the soups. At least until it actually gets hot out.

Aya sees me sitting at the table. She sits down and asks, "Have you talked to Angie at all?"

"Just briefly before we both had to go to class. She told me I've been friend-zoned for the foreseeable future. Not my favorite outcome, but it's a lot better than being cut off from her completely, which I think was my other choice. It's going to be hard not saying how I feel, though."

"I don't think I am at liberty to say much. It's her choice what to tell you. But I don't think your current purgatory will last all that long."

She's being opaque, even in her own mind. I get the sense she does that so she doesn't accidentally slip something. But she had a conversation with Angie at some point. And she knows something. I think it's about whatever Angie won from the Dean. Too many moving pieces to keep track of. I need to start trying to emulate Janet.

Aya continues, "And rest assured, she feels the same about you. You're a good kid to go along with this. A lot of guys would've walked when set aside like this. Thank you."

I've become much more popular with figures in authority since I moved dorms. I guess being known as Todd's roommate wasn't doing me much by way of favors.

I check my e-mail while I'm waiting for Angie. There is one from Dean Fernandez, explaining what I now understand. I read it to see if it says anything I didn't know. Not really, but it's good to have a record of the agreement. Some junk mail, but nothing else of interest.

I look up Graham Gordon. A billionaire alum. Founded some kind of financial derivatives company. Econ and Art History double major, with a math minor. Makes some sense. Me with way more brains.

By this point, Angie shows up. I really want to give her the hello kiss we agreed to, but I know not to and don't even flinch towards it.

"How were your classes," I ask her.

"Good. How was yours?"

"I was able to stay more engaged in class today, which I was happy with. Somehow, not getting any sleep last night seemed to have numbed the concussion some today."

"I am sorry about that and thank you for your text. Your support means a lot to me. Um, I also want to apologize for it being kind of one sided before I left. I really had meant to reciprocate."

I laugh sheepishly. "Actually, I kind of lost control at the end anyway. I need a drive to the dry cleaners to get my suit pants wearable again."

Angie laughs, saying, "That makes me feel better. In one of my jags, I felt really bad about leaving you stranded last night."

"Please don't worry about me. I will be alright. Make sure you're taking care of yourself. That's the best thing you can do to help me."

"Thank you for your support. But please don't be so effusive about it. It makes me want to say things I cannot right now."

"Gotcha. I will be careful. Oh, I have some good news, too. I went to Dean Fernandez's office after my class at ten. To get my meal plan straightened out. I had sent him e-mail yesterday while you were studying. Anyway, I have a credit card from his office that I can use to pay for my meals now. He has something worked out so the dining service will cover the costs for any meals I do not eat at the dining hall. I'm only allowed to use it for meals, but I don't have to worry about paying for it myself."

"That's good that you got that resolved."

She's surprised that I think that was that much of good news. She thought I sounded more excited than that.

"That's not the good part yet. He was meeting with some super rich alum named Graham Gordon. And the Dean introduced us. We talked a little bit. He was an art history major too, well doubled with Econ. But he is apparently a big donor to both museums and I think he's going to make sure I get an interview for an internship."

"That IS good news."

She's thinking about spending the whole summer with me. She's definitely excited.

"Oh and just a fun thing. Don't ask how I know all of this, but I found out that my doctor and the Dean were neighbors when she was in high school. And she had a crush on him. Still does, I think. I got him to realize that's who Dr Chekhov is. When I was leaving, I heard him asking Janet to get her number. I think he's going to ask her out. Janet figured out what I was doing and was happy with me about it. She and I are starting to get along."

I want to tease her saying since I have an opening in my bed, but I decide I better not. But she goes there.

"You better not be chasing other women right now. Our couple thing may be on hold, but you're still mine."

"I know."

I want to say so much more. But she knows what I want to say. She seems much more relaxed about it than she was a few hours ago.

I decide to mention the elephant in the room.

"You can tell me you don't want to talk about this, but I would like to know, as your friend if nothing else. Are you getting help for yourself? I was really worried about you last night."

"Yeah, Aya was really good for me this morning. I'm sorry if she kind of accused you of raping me."

"It's okay. I understand why she did and I'm glad she's protecting her students. But it was scary at the time."

"Well, I told her you were a perfect gentleman. And a perfect lover. But she did a good job of calming me down, including getting a vase for the flowers. Those really helped this morning. And I get to look at them everyday for a week or two now. They mean a lot to me."

She's thinking very happy thoughts about me. I feel good about where we will be once things settle down for her, which Aya thinks will be soon.

"Then we talked about somethings in my head. I think you probably have a good idea about them from our conversation Saturday. Then she walked me to talk to the counselor. My counselor helped me come up with the friend plan, at least for the time being while I work everything out. I will meet with her Thursday morning and then next Monday morning again. I understand more about why things went haywire now. I'm hopeful I can really work things out this time and get us back on track. I really do appreciate you being so supportive. I guess I've said that a few times."

"I think I remember you mentioning it already, yeah."

We sit in silence for a minute. Neither allowed to say what we really want to.

"Oh, I saved you a taste of my soup from lunch. It was Mexican Vegetable Beef or something like that. It was actually surprisingly good."

"Do you find that it surprising that something Mexican could be good?"

Oops. I had not thought about her ethnic background. Yes, she means her.

"No, I was surprised the dining service made anything actually good. I already know I love some Mexican things."

She got my drift and I got to say that to her without violating our rules.

I had been completely oblivious that she was hispanic. I never even thought about it. She is just Angie, my beautiful angel. Now I know she is of Mexican background.

"So I will leave this for you and I should go off to class. See you here around four to go to the hospital?"

I hand her the mostly empty soup container and pick up my things and start walking away before my urge to kiss her goodbye grows too much.

She hollers after me, "This is good. Thank you. But I think I prefer gringos. See you at four."

Class was fine again, closer to normal. But blocking out the voices enough still wears me down and gives me a headache. And the lack of sleep is getting to me now. I go straight from class to lying on my bed to let my head calm down.

I wake up to a knocking on the door. "Are you in there Matt? It's time for your appointment."

It's Angie's voice. I look at the time. 4:15. Oh shit.

"I will be right there."

I run to the door pulling on my shoes.

"Sorry, I guess I fell asleep."

"Lucky you. I'm exhausted."

We hurry over to her car. It is faster not going hand in hand, at least. But I would still rather be holding her hand.

We hurry up to the neurology unit in the hospital. We are five minutes late when I check in at the desk. I expect to get the usual, 'Have a seat, someone will be out to get you soon.'

Instead, she says, "They are waiting for you. Can you follow me?"

I'm led into a different office, where Anna is standing and a male doctor is sitting at a desk. Anna does not look comfortable, but says, "This is Dr. Farnham. He has some questions about my treatment of you. You should be completely honest with him."

I listen to what she's thinking. He's the unit head. He read her notes and looked at the treatment schedule. He thinks she's bringing me in to have sex with me. I chuckle to myself.

"Is something funny about this, Matthew?" Dr Farnham asks, trying to sound somewhat menacing.

But I know what's going on in his head. He's pissed, trying to decide whether to reprimand Anna or fire her. But not as pissed as I am at him right now. He has Anna in a tizzy. That's not fair to her.

"Maybe absurd, yeah. Should I give you the courtesy of letting you ask your questions, or should I just answer them?"

"Be my guest, young man."

"Well you were going to ask me a number and you had planned on it being 147, but you just changed your mind, and it's now 2137."

He looks very surprised and a little uncomfortable.

"Then you were going to ask me the name of your first dog, which was Roger. But you couldn't say that when you were little and it ended up being called Raga. Your father found that very funny, because he grew up with an Indian nanny who liked raga music."

He's going pale.

"Now you are deciding if you want to get out the twenty sided die that's in the back of your desk drawer. You keep it there to remember the fun you had playing D&D in med school. Did you really dissect an orc one time in a campaign while you were taking Anatomy?"

Now he's blushing.

"And yes, you should be apologizing to Anna. You ruined her whole day because you didn't trust her. I laughed because I realized what you suspected was happening. Anna has had one sexual thought about me. And don't scold her about that. Everyone has thoughts. You had thoughts about a patient this afternoon. Sue Richards? Isn't she one of the fantastic four? And you're fantasizing about cheating on your wife with the receptionist out there."

Anna is relaxing. He's not.

"See. Everyone has thoughts they shouldn't. She was irritated and embarrassed that I heard her thought about me, just as you are right now. You can spend the time to do a proper apology to her later. Because I was late, we have already missed part of my appointment time and they are helpful to me. It's time for you to be helpful and figure out how to protect her from any more of this, so she can help me."

Anna is suppressing a laugh as she leads me to her office.

"Thank you, Matthew. I don't think we have anything else to worry about. That was amazing."

"He pissed me off with upsetting you. And it seems like anger sharpens my sense. Doing that sort of thing could become addictive. I need to be careful."

"I can see where that power would be addictive. I am glad you recognize its danger. Why are you late? It doesn't seem like you."

"I fell asleep. Angie had an issue last night and neither of us got any sleep."

I laugh.

"What?" she asks. "Remember, I can't read your mind."

"I just thought about her reaction if we were really sleeping together. I'm pretty sure Angie has quite a temper. Fortunately, I've not really seen it yet. But I think Dr. Farnham might have been easier on you than she would be. And me? I would be lucky if she only cut off my balls."

"Things sound like they are going well there."

"It's complicated right now. Her desires for us are in stark contrast to her upbringing. That was her issue last night. The RD ended up getting her to see a counselor this morning. It was tempting, but I restrained myself from listening in on the session."

"So can you listen remotely to her? That was one of the experiments you wanted to try this weekend."

"Yeah, I texted her a question that I knew she might struggle with. When she didn't respond right away, I managed to listen in on her decision making, even though she was about four miles away. I've gotten good at listening in on normal conversations. I did listen in on her conversation with the RD this morning. I was too worried about her to be able to give her privacy."

I laugh. She looks at me.

"You will like this one. I've really only tried to seriously listen in on one other conversation remotely. And that was your favorite dean or should I say ex-neighbor. Yes, he's definitely that Ethan Fernandez. He asked his secretary to get your number. I'm pretty sure he's going to ask you on a date."

"I got a message from him today. He left his cell phone number and asked me to call back this evening if I could. You really are a matchmaker, aren't you?"

"All I did was ask him a leading question to get him to remember where he knew your name. A little inside info for you. He knew you had a crush on him. He thought you were cute, but he was not going to date a high schooler. And he was worried because you were underage, so you know what he was thinking about you."

She's excited and a little perturbed.

"I'm sorry if I should not have done that. I will warn you. He thinks you set me up with the question. I asked him if his parents had pink flamingos in the yard when he was in college."

"I appreciate the efforts on my behalf and you know I am happy that this is happening. But you also should not be interfering in people's lives with your ability. I am proud that you're only doing what you think are good things with it, but it feels wrong. As I think about it, all the cases I know about, you actually made a good call, really just clearing a roadblock to what might be a good outcome. I can't really criticize any of them. And I applaud your restraint at not listening in on Angie's session with the counselor. I can imagine how tempting that must have been."

"Speaking of listening in, I was shocked that you could pull that surprise on me with Angie last time. I don't want you to think about how you did it and I'm trying not to listen in right now, but do you think you can do that at will?"

"I think so. I think I've figured out what parts of the mind you can and cannot see. I think it's important for me, as your doctor, to have secrets from you. If you ever let Angie know, and I think you should, I would feel obligated to try to see if it works for her. Some secrets are important for relationships, too."

"Oh, I've discovered that when I'm too excited, I have a hard time listening. This has been happening way too often with Angie. And a couple of times I made a conscious decision to not listen. To just live in the moment with her."

"I'm glad to hear that. It sounds like a very healthy decision. How are classes going?"

"Well it was only two more classes. But they were actually good. And I figured out I can get work done on assignments if I work five minutes on, five minutes off. So that's definite progress. If I can get caught up over break week in two weeks, I think I can probably keep up the rest of the semester."

"That sounds like good progress."

"Can I tell you about something? I can't talk to anyone else because I only know about it from my ability."

"Of course you can tell me. That should probably be a part of these meetings. You're going to learn things, good and bad, things that you cannot tell anyone about. I guess I can be a bit of a therapist for you, since I am the only one that knows."

She laughs. She doesn't have to explain, she left the reason for her laughter open to me. She realized that Dr Farnham also knows my secret. But she laughed thinking that he probably never wants to see me again. She is probably right. I laugh, too.

"Angie's about to win some big award from the school. Everybody I listen in on just knows what it is. Normally, I would try to ask a question to people to get them to think more in depth about something that I want more info on, but I have no excuse to ask it here. It's apparently a big deal and I think it's going to be announced next week. Angie has told me she got interviewed for something earlier this semester, but she was confused about what it was. She assumes she didn't get it. But I'm so excited for her and I can't say anything."

"That is exciting, Matthew."

"Oh and one more exciting thing that I know about, this one officially. Your new boyfriend Ethan introduced me to a rich alum who I think is going to get me an interview for an internship I really want this summer. I still have to get the internship on my own, but I'm excited to get the interview."

"Good luck with that. I should get my baselines again. You said you're on very little sleep, correct?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure if I slept at all last night. Angie cried all night. But I did get a nap right before I came."

"I need to note that. It will probably reduce your reflexes."

We rerun most of the same tests we did last time and she has invented a couple of new ones. Any thoughts she has about the results are staying hidden from me. I don't try to probe further for them.

She walks me out to the waiting area. Angie has fallen asleep in the chair. I talk to her and then try to gently shake her. She sleepily replies, "Come back to bed with me, Matt, I want to snuggle and then have you again."

And she's back out cold. Anna laughs.

"It doesn't sound too complicated in her dreams," she says.

I'm tempted to listen in on her dream, but I control myself. It's not going to be any better than what she has me imagining, anyway.

"It's time to wake up Angie. You need to drive us back to campus."

This time, she snaps to, slightly confused by her surroundings.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were in my dream."

"We kind of guessed that."

She looks at both of us smiling and she blushes.

"It's okay. I'm glad you're dreaming that. Are you awake enough to drive?" I ask.

"There's a little coffee shop around the corner and down that hall that's open for another forty five minutes. You might want to have a cup of coffee before you try to drive. Matthew told me neither of you got much sleep last night."

"Why are you telling her that? What else do you tell her about us? Do you tell her everything we do?"

"I have to tell her that I didn't get much sleep last night. It affects things like my reaction time and my ability to remember things. And state of mind is important, too. She's trying to monitor my brain, so she has to watch for impacts on my emotions, which you certainly have had on me."

Anna's laughing inside, thinkingI bet you're right about that temper. I would rather face Dr. Farnham.

I chuckle out loud.

"Am I funny now?"

"I am not laughing at you Angie. You're just the second person in an hour to cast aspersions on Dr. Chekhov about me. Both were wildly unfair."

Angie looks confused now.

"My unit director was surprised by my treatment plan for Matthew. Matthew was very eloquent in helping me explain why it was necessary, so well that my unit director is now fully supportive."

"Well he's never very eloquent in explaining what's going on with him to me."

"I told you, I have this noise in my head."

Angie just glowers. Anna's screaming to me in her head, Now is not the time Matthew! Not when she's upset.

"I promise once I understand more, I will explain it to you better. But right now, you just have to trust me. I'm doing everything you're asking me to and you've been very open and honest with me. I have a reason for not being fully open with you right now, but I promise I will be. I'm taking our current relationship phase on faith in you. Please do the same for me."

Anna's noting that I just promised to tell her my secret. She's surprised.

Angie looks somewhat placated. Inside, she's still kind of grumpy, but she does trust me and appreciates my trust in her, so she will go along.

I thank Anna and encourage Angie to come around to the coffee shop. She sleepily stumbles along behind me. They have sandwiches, salads, and things; even better, the food looks okay.

"Should we just have a dinner here? My treat as payment for driving me."

"I can go for that," she agrees.

"We each get a sandwich, plus she gets a salad and I get a soup. We decide to split three desserts. She gets a coffee plus a diet coke. I get an ice tea."

We have a pleasant chat about nothing while we eat. I really want to ask her about her dream, but discretion wins out over valor. Fed and caffeinated, she gets us back to campus safely and we head to our own rooms as soon as we reach the dorm. I'm asleep within ten minutes of closing my door.

The rest of the week goes by without much of interest. We have most of our meals together, but she is, if anything, a little more distant. She's worried about what my secret is, especially that I may be dying. At times, she's a little despondent that she will never fix herself enough to have a relationship with me or anyone. She's afraid to feel anything more about me because I will finally get tired of waiting for her. If she loses hope in her self, she will tell me to go away for my own good, she promises herself. She is a little better after meeting with the counselor on Thursday. Even with that, I worry she's still a ticking time bomb. But, to quote Mick Jagger, wild horses couldn't drag me away.

My headaches continue to improve, mostly as my ability to block out the voices improves. I'm getting better at focusing on a single voice now. And I'm starting to hear the layers in their active thoughts. I manage to make it through all but one of my seventy five minute classes.

Angie drives me to my MRI Wednesday morning. Anna tells me that night that nothing has changed with the anomaly. The only other interesting tidbit is Anna telling me that she does have a date with Ethan on Saturday.

Personally, I come into the weekend dreading it. Too many powerful memories, good and bad, from last weekend. Angie's even more anxious about it than I am, which I understand.

I'm also dreading sitting in my room alone most of the weekend. I think Angie is planning on burying herself in studying all weekend, to hide from everything if nothing else. But I can't do that. Even without the limitations of my head, I don't have her dedication to school. I didn't know anyone was as dedicated to their schooling as she is. I bet her award is something because of that.

None of my previous friends are at all appealing to me anymore. When I think back, everything seems loud somehow. All they live for is drugs and alcohol and trying to find a hookup. That's all off the menu for me for the foreseeable future.

It seems strange to me. Right now I could walk into a room and within minutes know everyone in the room. Be able to hold a conversation with them about something they care about. The extrovert's dream. But I am lonelier than I've ever been. I want my old Angie back. I don't care about anyone else. I just want her.

I don't need sex with her, I just want her company. But I understand her problem. If we are together, she wants me, wants sex with me. And that's the desire that's tearing her apart, battling against her upbringing. I have to agree with her darker moments; I don't see a way out for us. But Aya thought something is about to change everything. That's the straw I keep grasping at.

The weekend is everything I feared. I have dinner both days with her, just our usual dining service food. And we have Sunday breakfast together. Mediocre food aside, those meals are wonderful. But I spend all the time in between by myself. Much of it in my room crying. Even the weather is gloomy, another cold rain. I've never felt so lonely in my life.

Monday morning is not starting much better. I'm getting dressed, thinking about getting my breakfast, while she's at her meeting with the counselor. I suddenly hear her inner voice screaming my name. It's an excited cry, not pained or fearful, but it still shakes me. I break my promise to myself to give her space and strain to find her stream. I locate it. She's babbling happily, talking to someone I think is the counselor. Everything seems okay, so I stop listening. Besides, that kind of listening gives me a headache.

I have finished eating and am leaving the dorm to head to class when I hear her inner voice coming closer. She's running, looking for me. She's so excited it's hard not to hear her.

A moment later she comes running up the path. She sees me and yells, "Matt, Matt, wait. It's going to be okay!"

She is so happy, she is bursting at the seams. She runs up to me and gives me a big hug. "I love you, Matt. And I can tell you that now, too."

Her mind is such a jumble, I cannot make sense of anything. "Slow down and tell me. And should this wait until after class?"

"I will go to class late today. I don't care. I need to tell you. You will want to hear this, too. Trust me on this one."

I sit down on the bench and she sits next to me.

"I got it. I got the award. The one Dean Fernandez interviewed me for."

"That's wonderful," I say, already knowing she had won. "But I don't see -"

"But it fixes everything. Or almost everything."

I'm shaking my head. I just don't understand.

"Let me read you part of the letter. Aya wasn't supposed to give it to me until lunch today, but she got permission for me to get it early so I could discuss it with my counselor, who is really wonderful. I want you to meet her one of these days. But this is so exciting."

She's completely scattered inside and out. I can't make head nor tail of any of this.

"I still don't understand -"

"That's because you haven't heard about this yet. Okay, I will read the letter to you."

Congratulations on being named the James and Jillian Anders University Scholar. This award is the highest honor the university awards to an undergraduate student. You have been deemed the outstanding student about to enter the final year of baccalaureate studies.

"Isn't that exciting!"

"I'm still not sure I -"

"That's because I haven't read you the important part. Let me finish."

I don't think I'm interrupting her.

"Okay, here's the important part," she says and reads from the letter.

This award includes full tuition and fees for your final year of study and a stipend to support you during the year. Should you elect to pursue graduate studies at the university beginning within three years of your graduation, your full tuition and fees and a yearly stipend for your support will be paid for up to seven years of graduate study.

"That really is awesome, Angie. I'm really happy for you. But I still don't see how that helps us."

"Silly, I don't have to follow their rules anymore."

"Whose rules?"

"My parents. They would have cut off my college money if they knew I had a boyfriend. You got to brag to your mom about me. But I had to hide us from my parents. But now I don't have to. They don't have any control over me anymore."

Suddenly that makes sense. I had completely missed that issue in her. I guess it was so ingrained in her that it wasn't conscious. Or maybe she inadvertently stumbled upon Anna's trick for hiding things from me.

"We can have an apartment together next year and I won't have to work at the store and everything will be wonderful."

"So where are we now?"

"I spent a while talking to Jennie about that. We can try being a couple again. But nothing more than holding hands and friendly kisses for now to see how everything else goes in me. She didn't think we should hurry things. But I can tell you I love you!"

"I love you too Angie. I have missed you. Really being with you."

++++++++++

Chapter 5

"Let me grab my stuff for class and then we can head over together. We are already going to be late so what's another minute?"

We walk over to the classroom building together, hand in hand once again. On the walk, she fills me in on two more tidbits. I can't tell anyone about this until it's officially announced Friday. And she has to attend a ceremony Friday evening to officially receive the award. It's a formal dinner and she's inviting three guests: her mother, her father, and me. So I have to meet her parents. The parents who are expected to seriously disapprove of me.

Despite the nerves of meeting her parents, I'm kind of in a daze all through class. We are a couple again. No sex, but I get my Angie back. I'm euphoric, the happiest I've been since our Sunday night date. I can't wait for lunch.

It's too chilly to sit around outside and I don't want to be alone in my room after this weekend. I sit by myself in the lounge of the dorm, waiting until it's time to go fetch my lunch. I close my eyes to rest my head, imagining holding Angie's hand. This is the most soothing thing I can do for my head.

When Angie's class is about to get out, I go over to buy my lunch. I like to start a little earlier than her, because I have a class at one and she's off until two. This leaves me time to talk and just watch her without having to cram food in me the whole time I'm doing that.

I see Angie coming, carrying too much stuff. I run over, open the door for her, and grab her pack so she can worry about her lunch that she's balancing awkwardly. She gives me a quick peck on the lips. I want the sex, too, but I can live happily with just this for quite a while.

Once she has settled in, I ask her the question that's eating at me. "How much are your parents going to hate me on Friday?"

"I'm not sure. My father will be unhappy that you're not a Mexican. He's very proud of our heritage. If he thought we were sleeping together, it would be much, much worse. I don't know what to expect from Mama."

What she isn't saying is that she's terrified to tell them. Scared for how they will treat her. She's thinking about just warning her mother about me on Thursday and then surprising her dad with me on Friday, hoping the event and the public eye will keep him calm. This sounds like a terrible idea to me.

"How soon are you going to tell your parents about me?"

She's squirming a bit. She doesn't want to sound like she's ashamed of me, which she isn't. She is ashamed of them. And afraid of them.

"I'm not sure. I know I need to, but it's more than a little intimidating."

"Do you get to see your mother alone when you're working tomorrow? Could you go a little early or stay a little late? Mom's are usually easier for this sort of thing."

"I can try that."

"Let me forward you the two pictures of us from last Sunday, so you can show her a picture of me in advance. If you show them the picture with us dressed up, you can say we've only been on one date and we have just been close friends otherwise. Which is mostly true. At least true-ish."

"That's probably a good plan."

"Out of curiosity, do your parents speak Spanish or English to each other?"

"English, they were both born and grew up in this country. My grandfather still speaks a lot of Spanish. Do you think I have an accent?"

"No, but to be honest, I had not even noticed you were hispanic until last week. You are just my beautiful Angie, my angel."

She smiles at that. I like to be able to say things again that make her happy.

"Was there anything else interesting in the letter?"

"There are a bunch of things I need to do. I need to give two scholarly talks to the campus community next year. One each semester. The spring one will be a public presentation of my Honor's thesis. The other is on a different topic, but I will probably do something else on Women's lit. I haven't figured out what yet. That will be a big extra piece of work in the fall.

"And I have to give a speech at commencement. In front of thousands of people. That one kind of terrifies me. But I will find a way."

"Those are all way cool things to do, though. Aya had given me a pep talk last week saying something big was coming for you that would help us. So she has apparently known for at least the week."

"Well, she knew that my fear of my parents cutting off my funding was a big concern for me and us. We had talked about that as we walked over to the counselor last Monday. So she pretty much guessed what happened today would happen, I guess."

"I just had a thought. Does your dad like Mexican art? Any artists in particular?"

"Let me think on that one. Can you name any?"

"Off the cuff, Diego Rivera. Frida Kahlo, Orozco, I don't remember his first name."

"Frida, she's the one with the movie about her, right. My dad made us watch that. He liked her, but not her husband."

"Rivera. He was a communist, so he's very controversial to a lot of people. And the movie made him out to be an asshole. I was just thinking, if he's anything like my dad, he will ask me about my major. I want to talk intelligently about Mexican art, since you said Mexican culture was important to him."

"That's a good idea. And tell him you worked in a hardware store last summer. He will like that too. That makes you real people to him."

She's feeling a little better about the issue. I am too.

"Time for me to go to class. Can we meet at 3:45 today down here. I still need to drop my suit pants off to be cleaned and pressed after my incident. I really don't want to meet your parents with a big come stain in my crotch."

I interrupt her laughter to give her a goodbye kiss and then hurry off to my afternoon class. I come back to my room after class and work. Not on any of my many outstanding assignments; I spend my time learning everything I can about every Mexican artist of note. After more than an hour of that, I feel pretty confident in my knowledge of Mexican artists. And I have given myself a headache.

When I go down to meet Angie at 3:45, my head is still throbbing. She looks at me with some concern, asking, "Are you okay?"

"I gave myself a headache."

"I was going to ask if I should take you to the hospital, but I guess I'm about to,"

"It's okay, I just worked a lot harder than I have been."

"What made you do something like that?"

"I made sure I was comfortable with all the major Mexican artists, both sculptors and painters."

"You doofus."

But inside, she is really happy that I took meeting her parents so seriously.

She looks at the pants I'm carrying. I show her the spot, saying, "See."

She's laughing fairly hard.

I say, "I was too excited watching you climax. You're especially beautiful that way. And I really like touching you."

She blushes. "Let's not talk about things like that until I'm ready to go further. I am still enjoying what we do have back."

"I am too," I say as I grab her hand. We walk hand in hand out to her car. Especially nice after spending last week oddly disjoint from each other.

After a quick stop to drop off my pants at the cleaners, we arrive at neurology. Anna must be running late because we have to wait over twenty minutes. She finally comes out to bring me back, apologizing as she goes. She's flustered but she's very happy under that.

Back in her office, she says, "It looks like you two are on better terms again."

"Yeah, she got some good financial news that has eased some problems for us."

I'm listening to her reaction. She knows about the award.

"Dean Fernandez told you about her award. That's supposed to be secret. I didn't think I was allowed to tell you."

"You probably aren't supposed to tell me. Ethan shouldn't have either I suspect, although it's not FERPA protected information. And is going to be announced in a press release in a few days. They just don't want it to be widely known before the press release."

"And how did your date go?"

And now she doesn't have to answer. It all came flooding out before she could control any of it.

"That wasn't fair, Matthew. I know you only want to know because you like both of us, but you need to leave us our privacy. You know what you know now, and I can't do anything about it, but I resent that a bit."

"I understand your resentment, but the knowledge makes me happy. Maybe my two favorite adults in the world had a really good weekend together. There's nothing wrong with that. It's one of the things that has happened with my ability. I've learned to be much less judgmental about what people do, what they want. Everybody, and I mean everybody, has dark secrets they are embarrassed about. Unless it's like murdering someone or something, I just don't care anymore. I certainly don't care that he wants you to get him off with your feet."

She shouts "Matthew!" at me as she blushes.

I change the tenor, asking, "As a serious question, if we were just friends, should I not ask you how something went even though I know it was important to you? For someone who does not know my abilities, wouldn't they find that rude? Make them think I didn't care about them?"

"That's a fair question. I'm not sure. It's not like you can warn me the question is coming, because that would have the same impact. We should both think about how to deal with that. Thinking about people knowing and delicate situations, now that you and Angie are back on better terms, are you going to tell her? And have you thought about how?"

"When is probably soon, maybe as soon as next week. I don't want to have her worrying about anything else during the ceremony Friday. And I'm not sure she's stable enough in her new self to be ready to cope with it."

Anna thinks that's a reasoned decision.

"How is something I wanted to talk to you about. I would like to do it in this office with your help. I would like you to be the first one to say it to her, so she realizes it's real, that I'm not teasing her or something. Then I want to give her a chance to ask me questions. Then I want to leave the office and go to the waiting room so you two can talk. I want you to teach her how to hide things from me if she wants to."

She wasn't expecting that.

"My gut reaction, as you know, was no. But it makes sense. I've sat in this office to tell a loved one that my patient likely has a brain tumor or may never walk again. Telling a loved one the medical reality comes with the territory. And I will answer many questions, but many others get referred to physical therapy or something. But there is no or something available for you. I really am the only person in the world that has dealt with this. As far as anyone has reported. As I think about it, that's a good plan. I will need to spend some time considering what I should say to her."

"You can tell her anything I've told you. Nothing is off the table as far as I'm concerned."

"So, how are you feeling, other than in love?"

"I've a nasty headache tonight."

She's suddenly very concerned.

"No, I think it's okay. I just worked through my rest time between class and coming here."

"I thought you had found a five on five off system that worked for you."

"I did, but I needed to be more intense for what I was trying to get done."

"What was so important as to endanger your health, young man?"

She's actually pretty pissed at me.

"I'm meeting Angie's parents at the ceremony on Friday. Which I'm more than a little terrified about. And he's big on his Mexican heritage and since I'm an art history major, I thought I should study all the prominent Mexican artists."

She laughs, but then scolds me, "Don't do that again. And I mean it. And if you still have a headache when you wake up, I want you in the emergency room, pronto. No excuses. Do you understand me? Actually, I know you do. But I still want to hear your promise."

"I promise," I say somewhat sheepishly.

I add, "Oh, before I forget, I need to cancel my appointment Friday. Because of the ceremony."

"Actually, I might have needed to cancel as well. I think Ethan's going to ask me to come to the ceremony as his date. People look at you askance if you don't have a plus one in his position. Or so he told me."

We do the usual measurements. Anna's not telling me what they mean or how they are going.

She walks out with me and chats with Angie for a moment. Just social banter, but I think she's trying to build up a relationship with her for the upcoming big talk.

We end up going back to campus to eat, she gets her food, I get mine and we eat at the table, as usual. Buying dinners three times a week was getting expensive. I'm distracted all through dinner worrying about telling her, how she will react. She thinks it's my headache.

We walk up the stairs together and I'm going to walk her to her door, but she says, "Let's say goodbye here. If you come to the door, I will be too tempted to let you in. I am not ready for that. And I think I need to be able to tell my father I'm still a virgin."

We have more than a peck, less than a passionate kiss, and then I go up the stairs. My head still hurts too much to even try to listen in on her.

My head feels fine in the morning so I grab my breakfast and bring it back to the table. A short while later, she comes out and joins me, like we had been doing before the big problem.

I say, "I have an idea. My mother has been nagging me to let them meet you ever since I sent her the pictures. We could take an overnight trip break week if you could drive us up and back. We could each have our own bedrooms, so it would not be a problem like that. I'm meeting your parents. It only seems fair that you meet mine. I promise neither of them will bite."

"Let me think about that. Okay, do you want a hug before we go to class?"

As we are hugging, my phone rings. Looking at my phone, I say "I should take this."

"Hello."

Is this Matthew Bergman?

"Yes, I am Matthew Bergman."

I wave Angie away and mouth to her, "Tell you at lunch."

This is Steve Timmons. I work for the Mason Museum of Art. I believe you applied for an internship as a summer assistant curator for the museum. The opening would be working on the Renaissance art exhibit. They are reworking the presentation of the material this summer. Are you still interested in the position?

"Very much so."

I'm tied up this week, but could you come for an interview for the position some time next week? I will warn you, you're not the only applicant for the position that we are interviewing.

"Next week is break week, so I'm very flexible. I can come any time that works for you."

How about next Tuesday at 1PM. Come to the Museum Staff offices on the fourth floor. Is the e-mail address on the application still correct?

"Yes. It hasn't changed."

Then I will send you more details in an e-mail. I will see you next week.

"Thank you so much Mr Timmons."

DOCTOR Timmons, but call me Steve.

"Well, thank you, Steve. I look forward to meeting you in person next week."

I have a big grin on my face as I walk into my Renaissance Art class.

The professor glares at me as I interrupt the class.

"I understand your need to leave early sometimes, but does your head prevent you from arriving on time?"

"I'm sorry. I had an important phone call I had to take."

"And what was her name, pray tell?"

The whole class laughs and I turn bright red.

"Actually," I say, "It was not a girl, and it was even relevant to the class."

The professor looks at me skeptically. "Just how many calls a day do you get about Renaissance art, Mister Bergman."

"Usually none. But today it was the Mason calling, scheduling an interview for an internship this summer. Working on the Renaissance exhibit."

"Touché Matthew, you got me. Congratulations on the interview. Who are you meeting with?"

"I think his name was Steve Timmons."

"Hmm. Impressive. He's the curator for all European art there. I wonder why he's involved. Now, if I can get back to OUR material. Unless anyone is getting a call from the Louvre?"

When class is over, Professor Amberson comes over to talk to me more.

"I'm happy you're healthy enough to last an entire class now. And I saw you got an assignment in to me. Any idea on the paper?"

"I hope to get fully caught up over break next week. I'm at least treading water now."

"I'm curious why you're meeting with Steve, though. It seems odd."

"I think I got the interview because Dean Fernandez introduced me to someone named Graham Gordon."

"Oh, you know Graham, do you. No wonder. I'm almost surprised the Museum Director is not interviewing you," he says, chuckling.

"How do you know him?"

"I guess you never noticed my title, did you. I am the Graham Gordon Professor of Art History. Basically, he gave the school a bunch of money to fund another faculty member, which turns out to be me. I have dinner with him once a year. He seems nice enough. But he funds most of the art projects in the region. So if he asks for something from one of the museums, it happens."

"I'm sorry for interrupting the class though."

"You made the right decision taking that call. I hope you didn't take my ribbing too hard."

"No, it's okay. I doubt any other students will risk being late anytime soon. Unless they get a call from the Louvre."

He laughs.

I wait outside for Angie to come out of her class, but I must have missed her talking to my professor. Oh well, I will tell her at lunch. I decide that I should tell the Dean that I did get an interview.

Janet's at her desk and sees me coming. "He's away at a meeting, Matthew. Can I help you?"

"I just wanted to let him know that Graham did get me an interview for an internship at the Mason. I wanted to thank him."

"That was nice of you to think of him. I will let him know."

I'm turning to leave when she adds, "I want to thank you for your matchmaking you pulled off. I'm not sure how you did it, but I'm pretty sure that was your handiwork. I've never seen him as happy as he has been the last two days. And he's bringing her to the ceremony, too."

"I had an appointment with her last night. She was pretty happy, too. I like to see them happy. They are two of my three favorite grownups right now."

"Who's your third, Matthew?"

"You are, Janet, I know who has made everything work for me. Thank you."

"You're such a tease, Matthew. I will see you Friday night, I guess."

I walk away in a good mood. And I can hear fragments of happiness amongst all the work in Janet's head. I'm not teasing her, though. I really do like Janet.

I relax until it's time for lunch. I try a minestrone soup today. It's mediocre, back to the standard fare for the dining service.

A few minutes later, Angie arrives with her food. She notices me eating my soup. "Is this one good, too?"

"I apparently like my soup like I like my women. Mexican."

She laughs at my lame joke. It made her feel good more than it was funny.

"But I have to tell you about the phone call. That was the Mason. I have an interview for an internship this summer. So if I can get a ride from you Tuesday at one, I would appreciate it. If I get it, I'm here all summer. We can be together all summer. No homework, just each other."

"Ooh, that will be fun."

She's having all sorts of delightful thoughts for me to listen to. She gets out her phone to see if anything important came in during her classes.

"My counselor can't meet Monday next week and wants to meet Tuesday morning. I guess I will just take the whole day off."

She looks concernedly at the next message. It's something with the award.

"Is everything okay?"

"I'm just panicking a bit. It's from the Dean's office. He wants to make sure I noticed that I will have to give a short acceptance speech at the dinner. And the school will record the speech and it goes up on the website."

"I'm impressed you're only panicking a bit. I would be in holy terror right now. That might be almost as bad as meeting your father."

She laughs.

"You laugh," I say, "You don't have to meet him for the first time."

I'm only half joking.

Tuesdays and Thursdays kind of suck, Angie has a short lunch and then I don't see her again until the next morning. I do have a relatively productive evening. I find I can now go almost ten minutes before needing a short break. I actually get my overdue Ren Art short paper written and submitted. I'm feeling good about getting caught up next week.

I think about the logistics of break week. It would work to drive up Sunday mid-day to my house, spend Sunday night there then come back mid-day Monday. I would get back in time for my appointment with Anna and Angie could keep her counseling appointment, now that that's moved until Tuesday.

I'm just working on going to sleep when my phone buzzes. It's Angie. r u awake?

I reply, Just thinking about calling it a day. what's up

can u come down. I need u.

Just as I'm getting excited, a second text comes what your dirty mind is thinking right now

She knows me. I certainly took that first text as something different than I think it is now. I throw on my jeans and my tee I just took off before hurrying down the steps to her room. I knock on her door, softly.

"It's me, Matt."

She opens the door. She has been crying. And she has a big red hand mark on her face.

"Are you okay?"

"Just hold me," she says, pulling me in the door and letting it shut.

She is crying as I hold her. She cries for a good fifteen minutes. All I can get from her inner voice is anger at her father.

"Can you tell me what happened?" I ask.

"I told Mama about us just before I started my shift. She was very happy. I showed her the pictures. She thought you were very handsome. And she thought I was so beautiful before our date. I had to send her both pictures."

"That sounds like that went really well."

"She must have told Papa. He stormed in and called me a slut. And he didn't care about any fancy awards, I would always be a slut. I told him I was still a virgin, that all we had done was kiss. I did lie slightly there. But I am still a virgin. Then he slapped me really hard and I left."

"Do you want to report this? He's not allowed to hit you."

"He's still my father. That would be the end of my relationship with him. Right now I love him and hate him. I can't tell either Aya or Jennie because I think they're both mandatory reporters. You're the only one I can tell."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm hoping Mama will talk him into apologizing. I'd gladly accept an apology from him. But I will not condone that. I quit the store. I'm going to see if I can get an on-campus work study job for the rest of the semester. And I'm going to apply for a summer library job, whether you have your internship or not. Maybe you could get another job around here if you don't get the internship. But no more late night Tuesdays and Thursdays or early morning Saturdays. We get three more meals a week together, which I expect makes you happy."

"I was just thinking this afternoon how much Tuesday and Thursday suck, with your short lunch and then your work schedule. Oh, that means you're not working over break either, I guess."

"Maybe a campus job will want some hours, but not all day every day like I was expecting. Can I make a big ask of you? Can you spend the night with me? No sex or kissing or anything. I just need you to hold me. It's probably safest if we both stay fully dressed."

"Of course I can do that. I will do anything you want and not do anything I shouldn't. I love you so much."

"Thank you. I know this is hard on you. I love you too."

I lie on my back and she curls against me, with her head on my chest, my arm around her back. To be honest, it's not a great sleeping position. I don't sleep well on my back. But it feels wonderful. I've had sex twice. But I've never spent the night with a woman. This feels more bonding. Of course, both at the same time would be much better than either alone.

I do manage some sleep. I think she slept pretty well. I need to relax my head as much as possible, so I'm not even trying to listen in on her dreams. It's still dark out when she slides out of bed. I think about getting up, but she whispers, "Get some more sleep, I will wake you up in time for your breakfast."

I roll over and go back to sleep. Some time later, I wake up to hear her clicking away at her laptop, writing something. I roll back over and mumble, "What are you working on?"

"What are you doing awake, silly? I know you didn't sleep well with me on you. You need rest for your head."

"I need you more. Can I at least have a good morning kiss for my efforts last night?"

"You can always have a good morning kiss, no matter what."

She leans over and gives me a quick peck on the lips. I would like more, but I cherish what I do get.

"So what time is it and what are you working on this morning?"

"It's 7:10. I was going to let you sleep until eight. If I had an option, I would've cooked you breakfast in bed this morning. Oh, I'm working on ideas for my remarks on Friday."

"How do you do this all? You were working a halftime job and unless I've miscounted, you're taking a sixth class. And I'm going to take a guess that you're carrying a 4.0."

"And I had no friends, until I met you."

"So now I'm going to be the one to blame if you lose your 4.0."

"Well, it's not the thing I'm hoping to lose to you this semester..."

"That's one task I can be fully on board with. Shall we start on it?"

"This semester, not today, bozo."

She explains the idea behind each of her four different roughed out speeches. We talk about the pros and cons of each. She reads aloud phrases she has thought of for each of the approaches. By 8:30, she has settled on one draft speech and is confident she can finish it easily in time for Friday.

"Time to skedaddle now, buster boy. You don't get to stay while I get changed."

I try giving her a sad puppy dog face, but she just glares and points at the door. She appreciated the one push back, but it can't become too persistent. I'm pushing the bounds already. Time to back off. Even if I feel I earned a bit of leeway with last night.

As I leave her room, barefoot with my hair and tee disheveled from sleeping in it all night, one of her hall mates is returning from the shower (reasonably covered by a robe). She snickers at me coming out of Angie's room. So much for Angie's reputation.

When I left, the mark from her father's slap was still visible. By breakfast, she must have put on some sort of makeup, making it almost invisible. I wonder how many times she has had to do that. No wonder she was so afraid of telling her father.

At lunch, I throw out the idea of going up Sunday night to meet my parents. Angie seems to think the idea makes sense, so I warn my mother that we are coming. She's ecstatic.

We pick up my suit pants on the way to my appointment with Anna. The stain seams to have come out completely, fortunately. I mention the blowup to Anna, leaving out the slap. I'm sure she's a mandatory reporter as well. I also tell her about my interview and our upcoming trip to visit my parents.

By Thursday, Angie has a job working 10 hours a week on campus and is signed up for a summer job as well.

Late afternoon Thursday, when she would've been working at the store, we go out shopping for a new professional looking blazer for her to wear to the ceremony. I pay for it, but she promises to pay me back once she starts getting money from her work-study job.

Mid-day Friday, President Williams sends out a message to the entire campus community officially announcing Angie as the new University Scholar. While Angie's at her Japanese Lit course, I sneak over and buy another bouquet of flowers for her to take to the dinner. And to replace the ones on her desk which had finally given up the ghost.

++++++++++

Chapter 6

Angie's a bit flustered when she gets back from class. Her Japanese Lit professor had made a big deal in class about her award. At 4:30, she shoos me away so she can get ready for the dinner. We agree that I will come down to her room at 5:30 to help her relax before we walk over to the dinner together.

I present her the flowers when I meet her at 5:30.

"These are beautiful Matt and I love them, but you know this doesn't count as a date."

"I know, but it's common practice to give flowers to performers. I thought they made sense for you, too. Plus, you need new flowers on your desk."

She's too nervous about her speech to really think about them. And she's not sure if her father's coming tonight or not.

I'm nervous about meeting him. But I'm also concerned about my head. I'm determined to show nothing unless it becomes unbearable. And Anna will be there to take care of me if it does get bad. Angie's too anxious herself to notice my worries.

She's still a nervous wreck when we get to the meeting room. It's set up with five large circular tables, each set with ten places. There are name tags at each place. There's a podium at one end of the room and an hors d'oeuvres table at the other end. The hors d'oeuvres table also has a punch bowl, which I'm assuming is not spiked. There does not appear to be any alcohol present, but I suppose the guest of honor is not yet twenty one, so that makes sense.

As we are trying to figure out what we should be doing, Dean Fernandez spots us and makes a beeline to us, Anna in tow.

"It's one of my jobs to guide you around, introducing you to everyone here. How are you holding up?" he asks Angie.

For all he's projecting a calm demeanor, he's almost as nervous on the inside as Angie is.

Anna's relatively relaxed. And she is stunning in a long form fitting gown. The medical scrubs don't do her justice. I momentarily think about her sexual musing about me that second meeting.

She steps up to Angie, saying, "I love your outfit. It was a perfect choice for this. And they are beautiful flowers. From Matthew, I assume."

"Thank you, Dr. Chekhov. Yes, wasn't that sweet of Matt to get them for me?"

I can hear Anna telling me, Good move Matt, She may squeeze them to death, but it gives her something to do with her hands.

"Angie, over here," Dean Fernandez says, "You, too, Matthew."

He leads us over to a couple who look like they are in their late fifties.

"President Williams, may I present our guest of honor for the evening, Angela Lopez. Angie, this is President Agnes Williams and her husband Charles Everton."

Angie has to shift her flowers to her left hand as she shakes both of their hands.

"And this is her escort, Matthew Bergman, another one of our most outstanding students," the Dean says as he introduces me.

I shake both of their hands.

President Williams says, "Angie, as is the tradition for the president and the Anders University Scholar, I will be inviting you for a monthly tea with me. Matthew, you're welcome to come as well."

I think we meet all forty four other attendees eventually. The provost and three other deans are here, each with a plus one. Angie had already met the Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences. The other thirty six attendees are all wealthy alumni. Half the point of the evening seems to be to show Angie off to the alums, showing how impressive our students are.

At one point, as we are standing around while Angie shakes some more hands, I turn to Anna and softly say to her. "It's tiring traipsing around with your Ethan. It must be killing your feet to keep it up with him."

She blushes and glares at me, kicking me in the shin. Hard enough to hurt. I hear her inner voice saying, Oh, did that hurt? Don't you dare do that again!

The alumnus we are meeting at the moment asks, "What did you say, Matthew?"

Anna interjects before I can answer, "Matthew was asking about something from his treatment. He is actually my patient currently. We would've had an appointment earlier this evening had we not both been committed to this event."

She's screaming at me inside, See what trouble you almost got us into? How was I supposed to explain that crack to Ethan?

She's still glaring at me. I thought it was funny, but I see her point.

Ethan picks up the discussion. "Matthew had a horrific fall last month. But it turned out to be fortuitous for me. Dr. Chekhov and I had been neighbors years ago, but we had long since lost contact with each other. But we reconnected through our common work with Matthew."

I add to the mix, "Dean Fernandez and his office has been amazing for me. Without that help, I think I would've had to take a medical withdrawal for the semester."

"Sounds like you're doing important work, Ethan," the moneybags replies.

Good recovery, thinks Anna to me.

Introductions done, the Dean and Anna lead us to the center table, where he points out our name tags. Angie has her back to the podium. I guess she will be up there when anyone is speaking. I'm on one side of her with her parents on the other side, her father immediately next to her. They arrived shortly before we were seated and we've not met yet.

I walk over to them and try to introduce myself. Angie's mother is very friendly, saying she recognizes me from the picture Angie gave her. And she comments on the flowers I gave Angie. Her father shakes my hand but just glares at me, never saying anything.

Next to the Dean are James and Jillian Anders, the couple who created this award. They must both be in their eighties or nineties. I'm not very good at ages of really old folk. They seem less than connected and their inner voices are confused, scrambling now and long ago events.

The last pair at the table are Graham Gordon and his wife Bella. I thanked Graham for the interview when he was introduced to Angie. His wife is fascinating. The same age as him, I think they were college sweethearts and still seem very compatible. She's apparently an accomplished and very successful author. Science fiction and fantasy, I think. She was really engaging as a conversationalist. And Angie was all over hearing about how she became a successful writer. I get the sense that she may be willing to mentor Angie if she decides to try to write her own novels. She gives Angie a card with her contact info. That conversation made the night as far as Angie is concerned.

Dean Fernandez warns Angie that they need to go up to the podium now. And, in an instant, all the anxiety returns for Angie. She stands up and I reach out and hold both of her hands, saying softly, "You have this."

She says, "Thank you," and bends over to give me a peck on the lips.

Her father, who has remained almost completely silent all night, spits out "SLUT!" at her, loudly enough for the whole room to hear.

She turns to him and says, "Papa, please don't."

He initially just sits there, glaring at her. But I can hear the rage inside of him. He stands up. He is going to slap her again. I jump up and stand between them as they've shifted to face each other.

"I'm sorry sir. I do not want to come between your daughter and you. But I will not let you hit her again."

I was loud enough that all fifty people at the dinner are staring at me. He is furious. For a moment I think he's going to attack me. But he thinks better of it. Instead, he pushes his chair backwards, knocking it over in a loud bang, before he storms out in a huff. Angie's mother goes running after him.

I realize I just accused him of hitting her in a room full of mandatory reporters. So much for not making an issue out of it. I'm still standing there, adrenalin pumping through me. Anna's scolding me in her head, You should've told me what was happening. Sit back down now, let it calm down.

As I turn back to my chair, I see Anna reach a hand out to Angie.

"Has he been hitting you?"

Angie nods, ashamed.

"It's not your fault, Angie."

I return to my seat. Angie's starting to cry. Dean Fernandez asks her if she's okay to give her speech now.

She nods her head.

He heads up to the podium. "Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my great honor to formally award this year's James and Jillian Anders University Scholar award to Angela Lopez. Would you like to come up and say a few words, Angie?"

She looks at me one more time, wipes some tears from her eyes, and walks up to the podium. I turn in my chair so I can see her clearly. I don't need my powers to tell how nervous she is. But I'm sensing a strength, a determination, and a plan. She's going to ad lib this speech.

"I have an acceptance speech that I had painstakingly prepared for tonight. It was all about nineteenth century women's literature and how important that is. And it is important. And I will give at least one of my expected talks next year about that. But after the incident you all just witnessed, I have to talk about something else.

"I've been blessed to be at the intersection of cultures. I've been cursed to be at the intersection of cultures. I was born in a proud second generation Mexican immigrant family, who want to honor the traditions of our people. I was raised with a uniquely American religious belief that has sprung up here and there across this country. To be honest, I have no idea how a traditional Mexican family ended up in a puritanical protestant sect.

"So I started out as a very confused young woman. Do I pick one side of me and draw on that. No, that would be too easy. I am about to write an honor's thesis on the effect of Jane Austen on the view of women in upper class English society. A world completely foreign to me. And I am taking Japanese Literature right now. Yet another world completely foreign to me.

"My boyfriend, who all of you had the chance to meet tonight, is a gringo, of Norwegian descent, I think."

She looks at me for confirmation and I nod my head.

"A young man who is studying Italian Renaissance art, and hopefully will be working on that this summer, after learning about African art last semester. And earlier this week, he dove into learning about Mexican art, in hopes of finding common ground with my very proud Mexican Papa. Dove into that deeply enough to re-aggravate his concussion symptoms and get scolded by his beautiful doctor, sitting just in front of me right now.

"This mishmash is the essence of a liberal education. The ability to understand all of humanity in all of our manifestations, all of our beliefs, our rituals, our customs, our art, our technology. That is what I believe this university stands for. This is the blessing of living across cultures.

"But there is a dark side to this, a danger. One person's love is another's sin. A proud heritage for one maybe a symbol of hate for another. A melting pot is too gentle of a metaphor for what happens. Cultures crash together, their essence violated until the cultures fuse into a stronger entity, drawing upon the rich history of each.

"But things are shattered in the violence of the collision. Some pieces of cultures are lost, no longer adding to the rich fabric of our society. As academics, it is our duty to maintain the memory of those pieces. Those pieces have been the soul of a people and deserve to be honored forever.

"But lives can be shattered as well. And families are certainly shattered.

"This is my charge to every one here tonight and everyone in the entire university community. Find a way to bring the cultures together. We need each other. But don't let people be forgotten, lost in the shattered remnants of old worlds."

Ethan starts clapping and the rest of the audience follows suit. Then Anna stands up. And I stand up. And Graham and Bella stand up. Before long the entire audience is standing, clapping. The applause goes on for minutes.

The Dean finally holds up his hands to quiet the crowd and says, "Angie, I think we all felt the passion in that speech, thank you."

"Dean Fernandez," she says, "If it's alright, I would like to thank three people as well."

"Of course, Angie."

"First off, I would like to thank you, Dean Fernandez, not only for your support of me, but for the many other stories I've heard of your compassion for my fellow students. You're a remarkable man, and I think we students are incredibly lucky to have you."

He somewhat bashfully bows slightly to her and the audience, as we all clap.

"Second, I want to thank Matthew. He's not why I won this award, but he is why I can be here tonight to accept it. I've had a wild rollercoaster of a life over the last month and he has been my anchor, my rock. I've put him through one impossible situation after another, and he always comes through for me, with a smile, with support, and with a bouquet of flowers. I love you, Matt."

Everyone is clapping for me. This is a weird feeling. I nod my head to the audience.

"And finally, I want to thank the woman behind the scenes. I'm sure this dinner could not have happened without her. I know all the support that university has shown Matt in his recovery is due in no small part to the woman sitting in the back of the room. Thank you, Janet. I happen to have an empty seat next to me now, I'd be honored if you would join me for dessert."

Everyone turns to the back of the room and applauds one more time. Janet looks at the Dean uncertainly. He nods and she gets up and walks to our table.

Dean Fernandez now says. "I think the dining service is getting anxious to serve us what's certainly a wonderful dessert. And if Angie's inspiring speech did not get you ready to hand President Williams a check, maybe the chocolate mousse will."

Everyone laughs and the Dean escorts Angie back to the table.

I hear him asking Angie, "Did you really make that speech up on the fly?"

"Mostly, yes. I borrowed some snippets from speeches I thought about but decided not to use."

"That would've been the most remarkable University Scholar speech I've heard even if you had written it out already. But that may be the most amazing ad lib speech I've ever heard any one give."

"I just kind of spoke from my heart. I did not think I could ignore what had happened. Something had to be said. And with all the mixed feelings I have for my father right now, I also feel sorry for him. The world has pulled me away from him."

Before she sits down, she reaches over to me and gives me a big hug. She's running on adrenaline right now, but she's exhausted. She turns to Janet,

"I meant everything I said there. Most students have no idea who you're, but we all benefit from your amazing capabilities, from all your hard work for us. Thank you, from all of us."

Janet's eyes are tearing up as she looks at both of us. "I can't believe you two. This means more than you can imagine."

We are all soon eating the mousse. It is very good. Everyone at the table is complementing Angie for her speech. I can tell Angie's fading and would like to go, but the Dean asks us to wait for a few minutes.

I think every single member of the audience comes over to Angie and congratulates her on her speech. The Dean is not the only person who asked her if it really was ad libbed.

Finally, the Dean allows us to leave, but not before thanking Angie for being such a good representative of the university. And he tells me that he did not know he was getting a twofer when Angie was selected, that I made a very good impression on many people tonight.

Listening to him, I realize he cast the deciding vote between the two finalists, so it really was his choice. And I had listened to the reaction of forty four guests tonight to both of us. They did like both of us. Of course, I kind of blew my relationship with number forty five, unfortunately.

We get back to the dorm and she lets me come to her door.

"I really appreciated you standing up to my father to defend me. That took real courage. Maybe someday my father and I will reconcile. But I'm so angry at him right now, I can't imagine it.

"Part of me wants to go ahead with it, go all the way tonight. But I know that's partially to spite Papa, and that's a terrible reason to do something so beautiful. Besides, I want us to have the energy to enjoy the event, and I know I'm exhausted. It will be soon, I promise. I love you.

"Now, I would like a goodnight kiss. A real goodnight kiss and then I need you to go up to your room. Text me at 9:30 and we can meet for breakfast, I'm never going to that store again."

We have a passionate kiss for several minutes and then she cuts it off saying goodnight before closing the door on me.

She has a confidence in her that I've never sensed before. I can understand her being exhausted; she was so nervous all afternoon and she expended an enormous amount of energy over those two hours. I'm fried as well, and my head's barely avoiding exploding, but I'm not ready to go to sleep. It's not even nine yet. I change back into jeans and a tee -- I need to keep my suit clean for Tuesday's interview. I try listening in on Angie's thoughts; she's trying to do schoolwork, that's her escape. But she's mostly fuming at her father, even though she still loves him and that hurts.

I decide to let her fume in private. I look at my Renaissance Art textbook. I don't feel like doing schoolwork. I don't get how Angie can spend so much time on it. In my world before the fall, everything was about the parties, looking forward to them and reminiscing about them as much as being there. I blame my father for that; he's still obsessed about his parties in college. But I was already growing very weary of that life, even before the fall.

I can see Angie's life laid out in front of her right now. It's hard to imagine her not getting her Ph. D. at this point, probably from here, because it will be free. She will write three or four novels that are considered great literature. And she will be a famous professor of literature, maybe still here. With a speech like she gave tonight, maybe she will be president of the university at some point.

I have a hard time imagining any path for me. There is no great trajectory, arcing into the future. My only motivation in life used to be the parties. Now it is Angie. I need a motivation about me. Unlike the parties, I don't want to move past Angie. I just need something to complement my love for her. Something else I can be passionate about, that can fill my time. I know for some guys, that's sports. I have an uncle who lives and dies on the Tigers. I don't do sports like that.

I think about who I said a few days ago were my three favorite adults: Anna, Ethan, and Janet. Would I like to live their lives? There's no way I could go through medical school. I fainted seeing blood on my fingers after I fell. And I don't have Janet's amazingly organized mind. I don't think I could do it. I'm really glad Angie called her out like that, asked her to our table. She deserves so much more recognition than she gets.

I think I would like Ethan's job. Finding ways to help people. Well not his job exactly. I know that he was a professor before he was a dean. And that requires a Ph. D. You have to pretty obsessed about a subject to do that. Like Professor Amberson thinking about art all the time. Or Angie and Jane Austen. If I was going to be obsessive about something like that, I think I already would be. I like my art history and I like explaining it to people, But I'm not obsessed with it. Maybe doing an honor's thesis will ignite the fire, but I doubt it. And I'm not sure how to combine art history with helping people. I will have to think about that.

Besides, I still need a hobby. Angie would probably be healthier with one, too. I might have a conversation with her about that. Maybe this summer, when she doesn't have the schoolwork to hide behind. I've always liked doing puzzles, both crossword and jigsaw. Crossword puzzles give me a headache right now. And I think I need a hobby that is not sitting inside.

I wanted to be able to paint the lake during our walk a few weeks ago, I know I can't paint; I've tried. Just not in my skill set. Maybe photography. I kind of hope my phone will take a good picture right now. And not being in control of that is uncomfortable for me. But if I learned how to do it properly, maybe I would really like it. And I could combine that with hiking or travel or all sorts of things. I don't expect to ever be a professional photographer, just good enough to not be embarrassed by my pictures.

I open my computer. There's a photography course in the fall. It does require a DSLR, not just your phone. Maybe I can save up some money this summer to buy an okay camera. I feel a little better with a plan in my head.

I look at my textbook again. I don't feel like doing schoolwork. But I should start reviewing everything we've covered so far so I sound reasonably informed for my interview on Tuesday. After an hour of ten minutes on, five off -- I did hear Anna's scolding about not overdoing it -- my eyes are getting tired. I set my book down and go to bed. Before I drift off to sleep, I listen in on Angie one floor below. She has given up on doing any school work and is thinking about me, wondering how far we should go tomorrow. I want to leave that as a surprise, so I stop listening and go to sleep.