That Thursday afternoon Catherine did everything necessary in a logical and orderly manner. She notified three of her professors via email of her decision to withdraw from the college, without giving them specific reasons, but Dr. Munsch she informed in person. He was her favorite teacher, a rumpled old bachelor who invited his classics students to his apartment several evenings every semester, serving them a supper of Kentucky Fried Chicken or Chinese take-out and, incongruously, bottles of expensive wine.
Dr. Munsch rose as he always did from his desk when Catherine entered his office. He was smiling, happy to see her, but that smile vanished as Catherine broke the news.
Dr. Munsch rose as he always did from his desk when Catherine entered his office. He was smiling, happy to see her, but that smile vanished as Catherine broke the news.
“But why? You’re doing fine work. You’re my best student this year. Why would you leave?”
“Some things have come up,” Catherine said. They had gotten on well together, and she could have told Dr. Munsch everything with confidence that he would remain her advisor and advocate, but for now she wanted to keep what was happening bound up tightly inside herself.
“If it’s a question of money—”
She shook her head. “It’s not money.”
“Please tell me you’ll be back in the spring.”
“We’ll see.”
At the provost’s office the dean promised to give her incompletes in her courses rather than failing grades, and the man at the bursar’s office, a Mr. Watts who wore black glasses and dark hair shorn to his skull, gave her a partial refund on her room and board. When he asked where he might send the check, she gave him Sally’s address at the dormitory.
“You want the check mailed to your roommate?”
“Yes, please. I’ll pick it up from her later.”
Mr. Watts frowned, but he bent his head and wrote the address on the form.
She ended her afternoon in the cafeteria, picking at a salad and listening to Myra and Jonathan discuss the death of Dido and the later scene where Aeneas meets Dido in the Underworld. Ordinarily Catherine would have joined their talk and banter, but this evening she found it difficult to focus on such ideas as Dido’s silence or the motives of Aeneas.
When she left the cafeteria and walked down the lighted pathway to the dormitory, it was already dark and the November air was cold and hard on her face. In her room, she found Sally sitting on the floor, packing some of Catherine’s books into the boxes Sally had procured that afternoon from the liquor store. On top of the tiny refrigerator stood a bottle of New Amsterdam Gin and another bottle of diet tonic water, Sally’s most recent drink of choice.
“I’ll start on the clothes.” Catherine got down on her knees, dragged her suitcase from beneath the bed, and slid it on the floor to her dresser.
Sally hoisted the coffee cup, the ice rattling against the glass. “Don’t suppose you want a drink?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“I’d miss the drinking like crazy.”
“It’s not so bad.”
Catherine began folding sweaters and putting them carefully into the bag. She could feel Sally watching her across the room.
“You could wait until the end of the semester. It’s not too late.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
“You know, Cat, you don’t have to do it this way.”
“That’s what Brett said.” Probably, Catherine thought, it’s what everyone she knew would say.
“Yeah, well, fuck Brett.”
Catherine looked at her roommate and smiled. It was the first time all day she had smiled and she was physically aware of the tug of muscles in her cheeks. “I think I’m already past that stage.”
Sally winced. “Shit, Cat. I’m sorry. Me and my big mouth.”
“I’m going to miss that big mouth. You will come and visit me, right?”
“Of course. I already said I would.” She took more books from the shelf and put them in the box with their spines upright. Then she paused. “I just meant you could go back and give the clinic another try. Talk to them.”
“Talking to them once was enough.”
“You know I love you. But I don’t understand you. You aren’t Catholic or anything like that. Why can’t you do it?”
“I don’t know. I just know I can’t.”
Sally grunted and shook her head and continued packing her textbooks. She held up one of the books and read the title aloud. “Latin Via Ovid.” She chuckled. “For two years I have roomed with a total geek.”
“And for two years I have roomed with a party animal,” Catherine said, smiling at the big-boned, dark-haired, cat-eyed woman sitting cross-legged on the floor in grey sweat pants and a blue t-shirt with the logos “Fries Before Guys.”
Sally slipped the book into the box. “Did he come to see you today?”
“No.”
“Bastard.”
“No, he’s just himself.” She folded another sweater. “He’s afraid, I think.”
“I’d say he’s fucking terrified.”
“Yes.”
“So I guess I’ll be taking you tomorrow?”
“If you still can.”
“Of course I can. You know me. I’m always looking for an excuse to cut macro. Hey, do you want me to pack your CD Player with the books?”
“No, you keep it and the CDs. Someday I’ll get them, but you enjoy them now.”
“Sweet. What do you want to do about the fridge?”
Last year they had chipped together and bought a small refrigerator, which had mostly served as a bar for Sally. Catherine smiled again, looking at the refrigerator and the bottles. “You keep the refrigerator.”
“I can pay you your half.”
“No. Just come and see me sometimes.”
“I promise I will.” Sally looked around the room, and Catherine thought she must be looking for things to pack in the boxes, but then Sally said, “This place is going to be bleak as hell without you.”
For the first time that day Catherine felt the tears start to come again. She had sworn to herself not to cry anymore, and she ducked her head and began packing socks around the sweaters.
”I’m really going to miss you, Cat. You’re always there for me.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“I could come and get you sometimes and bring you here if you wanted.”
“I think I’d feel weird coming here.”
“Well, then I’ll come to you. Though I might feel weird in a house filled with pregnant women.”
The woman on the sidewalk who had approached Catherine after she had left the clinic had promised assistance and had directed her to the special home across town.
“I can’t imagine you feeling weird anywhere in the world.”
Sally winked at the compliment and drank from the coffee cup. “Did you tell your mom yet?”
“No, I’ll get settled first. Then I’ll call her.”
Catherine’s mother and father had divorced when she was eight. Her father lived somewhere in Nevada. She had not seen him in many years, though he sometimes sent her a card for her birthday or at Christmas. Three years ago, after Catherine had left for college, her mother had married a man with three younger children and a home of his own. Fred was a good man, a loving father and husband, and he had welcomed Catherine into their home. She had spent a summer and some holiday vacations there, but it was never the same as the apartment she and her mother had shared. It was their home and Catherine did not belong to it.
Especially now.
When they had finished the packing, Catherine helped Sally edit an essay due for her class in management. Sally was a careless, indifferent writer, and though she used the checks on her computer, her papers were always rife with grammatical and spelling errors.
“You’ve saved me again.”
“You’ll have to bring your essays when you come see me,” Catherine said.
“You’re damn right I will. Hey, I’m going out for a while. Down to the Corner. Want to come?”
“No. Thanks though.”
“You’ll be all right here?”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
“Sure.”
Later, after she had brushed her teeth and put on pajama bottoms and a t-shirt for sleeping, Catherine lay in her bed beneath the quilt that tomorrow morning she would fold and put into Sally’s car. The lights from the parking lot outside her window cast a soft yellow glow over the room, and she put her hands on her belly and looked at the stack of boxes and the suitcase standing beside the door and then looked at the shadows on the ceiling as she tried without success to imagine everything her life might become.
“Some things have come up,” Catherine said. They had gotten on well together, and she could have told Dr. Munsch everything with confidence that he would remain her advisor and advocate, but for now she wanted to keep what was happening bound up tightly inside herself.
“If it’s a question of money—”
She shook her head. “It’s not money.”
“Please tell me you’ll be back in the spring.”
“We’ll see.”
At the provost’s office the dean promised to give her incompletes in her courses rather than failing grades, and the man at the bursar’s office, a Mr. Watts who wore black glasses and dark hair shorn to his skull, gave her a partial refund on her room and board. When he asked where he might send the check, she gave him Sally’s address at the dormitory.
“You want the check mailed to your roommate?”
“Yes, please. I’ll pick it up from her later.”
Mr. Watts frowned, but he bent his head and wrote the address on the form.
She ended her afternoon in the cafeteria, picking at a salad and listening to Myra and Jonathan discuss the death of Dido and the later scene where Aeneas meets Dido in the Underworld. Ordinarily Catherine would have joined their talk and banter, but this evening she found it difficult to focus on such ideas as Dido’s silence or the motives of Aeneas.
When she left the cafeteria and walked down the lighted pathway to the dormitory, it was already dark and the November air was cold and hard on her face. In her room, she found Sally sitting on the floor, packing some of Catherine’s books into the boxes Sally had procured that afternoon from the liquor store. On top of the tiny refrigerator stood a bottle of New Amsterdam Gin and another bottle of diet tonic water, Sally’s most recent drink of choice.
“I’ll start on the clothes.” Catherine got down on her knees, dragged her suitcase from beneath the bed, and slid it on the floor to her dresser.
Sally hoisted the coffee cup, the ice rattling against the glass. “Don’t suppose you want a drink?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“I’d miss the drinking like crazy.”
“It’s not so bad.”
Catherine began folding sweaters and putting them carefully into the bag. She could feel Sally watching her across the room.
“You could wait until the end of the semester. It’s not too late.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
“You know, Cat, you don’t have to do it this way.”
“That’s what Brett said.” Probably, Catherine thought, it’s what everyone she knew would say.
“Yeah, well, fuck Brett.”
Catherine looked at her roommate and smiled. It was the first time all day she had smiled and she was physically aware of the tug of muscles in her cheeks. “I think I’m already past that stage.”
Sally winced. “Shit, Cat. I’m sorry. Me and my big mouth.”
“I’m going to miss that big mouth. You will come and visit me, right?”
“Of course. I already said I would.” She took more books from the shelf and put them in the box with their spines upright. Then she paused. “I just meant you could go back and give the clinic another try. Talk to them.”
“Talking to them once was enough.”
“You know I love you. But I don’t understand you. You aren’t Catholic or anything like that. Why can’t you do it?”
“I don’t know. I just know I can’t.”
Sally grunted and shook her head and continued packing her textbooks. She held up one of the books and read the title aloud. “Latin Via Ovid.” She chuckled. “For two years I have roomed with a total geek.”
“And for two years I have roomed with a party animal,” Catherine said, smiling at the big-boned, dark-haired, cat-eyed woman sitting cross-legged on the floor in grey sweat pants and a blue t-shirt with the logos “Fries Before Guys.”
Sally slipped the book into the box. “Did he come to see you today?”
“No.”
“Bastard.”
“No, he’s just himself.” She folded another sweater. “He’s afraid, I think.”
“I’d say he’s fucking terrified.”
“Yes.”
“So I guess I’ll be taking you tomorrow?”
“If you still can.”
“Of course I can. You know me. I’m always looking for an excuse to cut macro. Hey, do you want me to pack your CD Player with the books?”
“No, you keep it and the CDs. Someday I’ll get them, but you enjoy them now.”
“Sweet. What do you want to do about the fridge?”
Last year they had chipped together and bought a small refrigerator, which had mostly served as a bar for Sally. Catherine smiled again, looking at the refrigerator and the bottles. “You keep the refrigerator.”
“I can pay you your half.”
“No. Just come and see me sometimes.”
“I promise I will.” Sally looked around the room, and Catherine thought she must be looking for things to pack in the boxes, but then Sally said, “This place is going to be bleak as hell without you.”
For the first time that day Catherine felt the tears start to come again. She had sworn to herself not to cry anymore, and she ducked her head and began packing socks around the sweaters.
”I’m really going to miss you, Cat. You’re always there for me.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“I could come and get you sometimes and bring you here if you wanted.”
“I think I’d feel weird coming here.”
“Well, then I’ll come to you. Though I might feel weird in a house filled with pregnant women.”
The woman on the sidewalk who had approached Catherine after she had left the clinic had promised assistance and had directed her to the special home across town.
“I can’t imagine you feeling weird anywhere in the world.”
Sally winked at the compliment and drank from the coffee cup. “Did you tell your mom yet?”
“No, I’ll get settled first. Then I’ll call her.”
Catherine’s mother and father had divorced when she was eight. Her father lived somewhere in Nevada. She had not seen him in many years, though he sometimes sent her a card for her birthday or at Christmas. Three years ago, after Catherine had left for college, her mother had married a man with three younger children and a home of his own. Fred was a good man, a loving father and husband, and he had welcomed Catherine into their home. She had spent a summer and some holiday vacations there, but it was never the same as the apartment she and her mother had shared. It was their home and Catherine did not belong to it.
Especially now.
When they had finished the packing, Catherine helped Sally edit an essay due for her class in management. Sally was a careless, indifferent writer, and though she used the checks on her computer, her papers were always rife with grammatical and spelling errors.
“You’ve saved me again.”
“You’ll have to bring your essays when you come see me,” Catherine said.
“You’re damn right I will. Hey, I’m going out for a while. Down to the Corner. Want to come?”
“No. Thanks though.”
“You’ll be all right here?”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure?”
“Sure.”
Later, after she had brushed her teeth and put on pajama bottoms and a t-shirt for sleeping, Catherine lay in her bed beneath the quilt that tomorrow morning she would fold and put into Sally’s car. The lights from the parking lot outside her window cast a soft yellow glow over the room, and she put her hands on her belly and looked at the stack of boxes and the suitcase standing beside the door and then looked at the shadows on the ceiling as she tried without success to imagine everything her life might become.