Alex felt all of the interest go out of her. Was she really supposed to have something to
say, some wisdom to impart? Stay in school? Don’t do drugs? Don’t fuck the wrong guys?
Don’t let the wrong guys fuck with you? Be nice to your parents even if they don’t deserve it, because they can afford to take you to the dentist? Dream smaller? Don’t let the girl you love die?
The silence stretched. Alex gazed at the mint leaves floating in her tea.
“Well,” said Professor Belbalm on a sigh. “I ask you these things because I don’t know how else to motivate you, Alex. Do you wonder why I care?”
Alex hadn’t, actually. She’d just assumed Belbalm took her job as the head of JE
seriously, that she looked out for all of the students under her care. But she nodded anyway.
“We all began somewhere, Alex. So many of these children have had too much handed
to them. They’ve forgotten how to reach. You are hungry and I respect hunger.” She tapped her desk with two fingers. “But hungry for what? You’re improving; I see that.
You’ve gotten some help, I think, and that’s good. You’re clearly a smart girl. The academic probation is worrisome, but what worries me more is that the classes you’re choosing show no real pattern of interest other than ease. You cannot simply get by here.”
Can and will, thought Alex. But all she said was, “I’m sorry.” She meant it. Belbalm
was looking for some secret potential to unlock and Alex was going to disappoint her.
Belbalm waved away the apology. “Think about what you want, Alex. It may not be something you can find here. But if it is, I will do what I can to help you stay.”
This was what Alex wanted, the perfect peace of this office, the gentle light through the windows, the mint and basil and marjoram growing in lacy clusters.
“Have you given any thought to your summer plans?” asked Belbalm. “Would you
consider staying here? Coming to work for me?”
Alex’s head snapped up. “What could I possibly do for you?”
Belbalm laughed. “Do you think Isabel and Colin are performing complicated tasks?
They maintain my calendar, do my filing, organize my life so I don’t have to. I have no
doubt you could manage it. There’s a summer composition program that I think might get
your writing where it needs to be to continue here. You could begin to think about what
you might consider as a career path. I don’t want to see you left behind, Alex.”
A summer to catch up, to catch my breath. Alex was good at odds. She’d had to be.
Before you walked into a deal, you had to know if you would walk out. And she knew the
chance that she could bob and weave her way through four years of Yale was unlikely.
With Darlington around, it had been different. His help had given her an edge, made this
life manageable, possible. But Darlington was gone, who knew for how long, and she was
so damn tired of treading water.
Belbalm was offering her three months to breathe, to recover, make a plan, gather her
resources, to become a real Yale student, not just someone playing the part on Lethe’s dime.
“How would that work?” Alex asked. She wanted to set down her cup, but her hand was shaking badly enough she was afraid it would clatter.
“Show me you can continue to improve. Finish the year strong. And the next time I ask
you what you want, I expect an answer. You know about my salon? I had one last night
but I’ll have another next week. You can start by attending.”
“I can do that,” she said, though she wasn’t at all sure she could. “I can do that. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, Alex.” Belbalm looked at her over the red rim of her teacup. “Just do
the work.”
Alex felt light as she drifted out of the office and waved to Colin. She found herself in the silence of the courtyard. It was like this sometimes—all of the doors would close, no
one passing through on their way to class or a meal, all the windows shut tight against the
cold, and you’d be left in a pocket of silence. Alex let it pool around her, imagined that the buildings surrounding her had been abandoned.