“If you do, we’d like to discuss it beforehand. Your high school counselor will probably have something to say about it, too, so I’d suggest you speak to him or her.”
I nod. I’ve rarely spoken to my counselor because my father has always taken care of the logistics.
After thanking the interviewers for their time, I walk toward the quad. I’m sharply aware that I could be mucking up the process by even thinking about not attending Evergreen, but I can no longer stand the thought of living this life for another four years.
And after Evergreen…what?
Knowing my father, he’d encourage me to get a job at the university library or the Grenville Public Library, and there I’d be ten years from now, Nell Fairchild, a weird, spinster librarian pushing thirty and still living in the haunted old Victorian house with her reclusive father and his dusty Greek history books.
It would be Dickensian, if it weren’t so pathetic.
“Nell?”
I turn at the sound of the male voice. A young man with light brown hair approaches, a backpack over his shoulder and a twinkle in his blue eyes.
“Hey, I thought that was you. Nell like bell.” He stops and gives me a chipped-tooth grin, pressing a hand against his chest. “Jonah, from the market.”
“Of course.” I pause, thinking he didn’t need to introduce himself. “Jonah. Hi.”
“What’re you doing here?”
“Oh, I just had my admissions interview.” I gesture vaguely toward the registration building. “I should hear something in the next few weeks.”
“That’s great.” His smile widens. “Hey, I don’t have a class for another hour. Do you want to grab that coffee now?”
My stomach twists, a reaction that annoys me. I glance at my watch. I’d told my father I’d meet him in his office for a ride home, but we hadn’t scheduled a time and the interview was short, so…
“Sure,” I say. “I have an hour or so.”
“Awesome.” He sounds pleased. Like he really wants to sit across from me, drinking coffee and talking.
We walk to the commons and get two coffees, then go back outside to sit at a table in a little courtyard. The other tables are filled with students and a couple of professors. I catch snippets of conversation about a Buddhist sculpture, swimming trials, and the ecosystem of the Delta wetlands.
“So are you from around here?” Jonah asks.
“I’m from right here.” I give him a rueful smile. “I’ve never lived anywhere else. What about you?”
“I’m from down near San Jose. Came to Evergreen because they offered me a great financial aid package.”
“What’s your major?”
“Architecture.”
I’m both impressed and intrigued. He tells me about his classes and an independent study he’s doing on the modernist work of Kazuyo Sejima.
As it turns out, having coffee and talking with a nice boy is not the apocalyptic disaster I’d assumed it would be. I wouldn’t say it’s easy—I’m nervous about what he might ask next, and there are some excruciatingly awkward lulls in the conversation—but there are no horrible earthquakes or a plague of locusts. None of the people at the other tables laugh and point their fingers at me.
Jonah and I talk about the campus, his hopes to get into a graduate program in New York, and his plans to visit his family over the winter break. We exchange thoughts about the books we’re reading in our respective literature classes. I tell him about my work at Comic Castle, and he says he’ll stop by after classes sometime next week.
When he looks at his phone and makes a noise of disappointment, I’m surprised to learn that almost an hour has already passed.
“I gotta get over to the Arts Building.” He takes my empty cup and tosses it in the recycling bin with his. “Where are you going?”
“History department. I—”
“Nell.” My father weaves around the tables, his briefcase in one hand, and looks from me to Jonah. “I guess your interview is over?”
“It ended early. Dad, this is Jonah. We met a few weeks ago and just ran into each other. I figured you had stuff to do, so I didn’t want to bother you.”
“No problem. I was just coming to find you.” My father shakes Jonah’s hand. “Good to meet you.”
“You too. I might end up in one of your classes next year.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.”
They exchange a few more words of small talk before Jonah gives me a wave of farewell and ambles off. A light rain is starting to fall.
“He seems nice,” my father remarks as we start walking toward the parking lot.
“He is.”
“You should get together with him. He could give you a good overview of Evergreen campus life from a student’s perspective.”
“We were just having coffee.”
“I know, but it’s great to see you socializing. You haven’t had many friends over the years.”
Any friends.
I let out my breath slowly. “Hard to make friends in an institution.”
His glance is sudden and sharp. We never mention Harbor View.
“Nell.”
“I know.” I hold up a hand. “It was for the best. But I still wish you’d talked to me first.”
My father unlocks the car and tosses his briefcase into the backseat. “Given your state of mind, I doubt talking would have helped.”
“Okay.” I get into the passenger seat and pull my seatbelt on. “What about since then?”
“What about it?” He starts the car and heads out of the parking lot. “All I’ve done since then is talk to you about your life and plans.”
“That’s not entirely true.” My heartbeat suddenly kicks into gear. I hadn’t planned to assert myself right before he leaves town, but now that I’ve started, I don’t want to stop. “You’ve told me what to do, which is not the same as talking.”
He sighs. “Didn’t we just have this conversation last week?”
“No.”
“Then what?” He brakes at a stop sign. “Did your interview go badly?”
“The interview was fine. But I’ve been trying to tell you I don’t want to follow this plan you made for me.”
“I’m not forcing you, Nell. You’ve agreed to everything.”
“I haven’t had a choice.” My throat tightens. “As you pointed out, I’m dependent on you for everything from my morning cereal to my education. How could I ever disagree with your plans for me?”
He flips on the windshield wipers. “I didn’t know you consider me such a tyrant.”
“I understand why you’ve been so overprotective. My point is that you don’t have to be. I’m not my mother.”
“I never thought you were.” He turns onto the narrow road leading toward Dearborne. “But I’ve only tried to give you the stability and structure I couldn’t give her.”
A swell of frustrated love rises. “And I’ll always be grateful, but I think it’s time for me to find my own way. I’ve taken that part-time job I told you about. The one at the comic book store.”