Chapter Forty-One
LUCY
There was a heatwave in Ohio. It seemed like there was always a heatwave now. How could they continue to call it a heatwave when one came right on the heels of another with only a day or two in between when the temperature dipped below ninety? Shouldn’t they call them cool patches instead?
She wondered where he was, what he was doing.
In weak, quiet moments, she looked up his tour schedule and his likely time zone.
She did pointless math to determine if he was asleep, or eating breakfast, or on stage somewhere.
She missed his face. His tattoos. His laugh.
It was an ache, a deeply hollow sensation like something inside her had been carved away.
It had only been two weeks since Vegas, but those fourteen days had dragged. Lucy kept telling herself that the feelings of loss and grief would pass eventually. It would just take time. Meanwhile, she had to go on with her life.
She had gone through all the mail that had accumulated while she was away. She’d answered all the emails sent to her. She put the trash in front of the house for pickup. Went to yoga class and the grocery store. And it had all felt so dim, a sad gray imitation of her life before.
Lucy didn’t allow herself to wallow in it, though. She had requests for external review to write. A committee meeting to prepare for. Things to be approved and signed. Class materials to finalize. She was busy. And bored. She was back on campus. And lonely.
An empty nest had sounded so liberating.
The house all to herself. Chloe wouldn’t drop by with friends unannounced while Lucy was wandering around the house in her bra and panties.
Chandler wouldn’t ‘accidentally’ eat the entire contents of her fridge.
Her time was her own. She was free. It felt like a suit that was too small, too close and confining.
But eventually she’d get her bearings and it would all be fine. It would be fine .
Lucy walked to her office. Up the small hill from her home and down again into her beloved little university town.
The humidity of the summer morning pressed in on her from all sides, so she stopped to grab an iced coffee from Starbucks.
She sipped it as she meandered through the tree-lined quad at the heart of campus.
It was the long way to work. She could have taken her car. It would have been more comfortable, but also faster. Walking helped fill the hours. And it’s good exercise , she reminded herself for the three-hundredth time. Good. Exercise.
Lucy walked up the cracked stone steps to her office building, a stately brick structure built in 1882.
She pulled open the enormous wooden door and waited for the charm of Crestwell Hall to envelop her in its warm embrace.
All she could see, though, were the yellowing marble tiles and the paint chipping from the baseboards.
The wooden steps up to her third-floor office were worn with age.
Their smooth undulations had always been a comfort, a physical reminder of the many thousands of feet that had tread the path to education and enlightenment over hundreds of years.
This day, though, with her sweaty thighs rubbing together as she ascended, they only seemed troublesome and dangerous.
She told herself that the feeling was also temporary, a consequence of having been lately in Las Vegas.
That was it. That was all. Everything in Las Vegas is so new and fresh and glossed to a high sheen.
It’s only the juxtaposition. That’s all.
Lucy unlocked her office door and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of books and wood polish.
She didn’t have a window. Which was a shame.
When she made full tenure, she’d request a different office.
She couldn’t immediately think of one that would be open.
All the other tenured professors had claimed them already over the years.
But one of them would probably die at some point. Eventually she’d get a window.
She sat in her specially ordered ergonomic chair behind the enormous wooden desk that was slightly too big for the space and flipped open her laptop.
She slung her canvas work bag emblazoned with a UFO and ‘Get in, Loser,’ a birthday present from Chloe.
She flicked on the desk lamp and tried to find the right words to self-motivate.
Lucy reminded herself that she was good at her job.
It had value. It made sense. Once she got back into the rhythm it would be good again.
She was throwing herself back into her goal and it was a good thing.
Maybe, eventually, she’d figure out how to not be terrible at relationships.
In the meantime, there was work to be done. There were things to accomplish.
Lucy sipped her iced coffee and checked the email that she’d already gone over while she ate breakfast at her kitchen table.
‘Knock, knock,’ said a female voice along with a gentle tap at the doorframe.
A messy topknot of blonde curls peeked through the partially open office door.
‘Olivia!’ Lucy trilled. ‘Good to see you.’
‘Hi, Dr. McManis,’ the young woman said as she entered the room.
‘How many times do I have to tell you to call me Lucy?’ she joked.
‘How many times do I have to tell you that there aren’t enough times to get me to do that?’ Olivia quipped back.
Lucy chuckled. ‘Fine. Have a seat. How’s your summer been?’
Olivia slipped the backpack off her shoulders and placed it at her feet as she sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. ‘It’s been good,’ she said. ‘Really good.’
‘Get through that comm symposium, okay?’
‘Yeah, it was interesting. A nice break from summer classes.’
‘Good.’ Lucy beamed.
Olivia was one of Lucy’s special students.
A twenty-year-old young woman who was majoring in American Cultural Studies and had shown an interest in pursuing academia from the first class she’d taken from Lucy her freshman year.
Lucy was her academic advisor, but also (Lucy hoped) something of a friend.
Which is why she felt comfortable asking, ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah,’ Olivia replied weakly, looking at the coffee mug of pens on Lucy’s desk.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah,’ she repeated. ‘It’s just … I wanted to talk to you about something.’
Olivia finally looked up and Lucy could see that she was nervous, maybe even a bit anxious.
‘Sure, what’s up?’
‘Well, you know that my minor is Art History?’
‘Yeah,’ Lucy replied.
‘Well, I’ve been getting more involved with the art restoration side of things lately.
Aiming more toward conservation. The physical, practical side of art history rather than the more theoretical, academic side.
And I realized recently that I really love it.
I kind of have a mind for the chemistry and mechanics of it and I just … I love it.’
Lucy could sense where the conversation was heading, had heard it before from other students over the years.
Olivia continued, ‘So, I’m changing majors.’
Lucy opened her mouth to offer words of encouragement, but Olivia spoke first.
She continued, ‘It’s just that … I mean, I also love American Cultural Studies and I’m already deep in the major at this point.
But I think if I switch this semester, I can probably finish college in a total of five years.
I’d really rather not bankrupt my parents or finish under a heap of debt. If I let it go any longer …’
‘I understand,’ Lucy said.
‘You do?’
‘Of course. You don’t owe me any explanations, Olivia. I’m glad you found something that you feel good about. It’s the perfect time to make the switch.’
Olivia visibly relaxed, her shoulders settling lower. ‘I was just feeling pot committed, you know? Like maybe I shouldn’t throw away all of this work in ACS and take the extra year.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy interrupted. ‘Pot committed?’
‘Oh, yeah. Sorry. My dad is big into poker. He’s a contractor, but his hobby is cards. Drags us all to Vegas twice a year, the whole thing.’
At the mention of Vegas, Lucy felt the air in the room shimmer. A tingle up her spine had her leaning forward in her seat. Like it was destiny or fate or some other hokey shit she normally laughed off, but couldn’t ignore this time. She put her hands flat on the desk to steady herself.
Oliva went on, ‘In poker, pot committed is basically when you’ve bet into a hand round after round, but then when it comes time for the last cards to be turned over – even though it seems like you’re probably going to lose – you bet in anyway.
Because all of your money is in there, right?
So, if there’s even a tiny chance that you could win, it would be better to stick some more cash in there and see it through to the finish than it would be to fold.
But the chances are slim. You almost always lose. ’
‘Pot committed,’ Lucy whispered.
Olivia nodded. ‘Yeah, um, I realized that I was starting to think of my life that way. Which is beyond ridiculous.’ The young woman became more animated, punctuating her words with sweeping movements of her arms. ‘I can’t stay on this path just because I’ve accidentally overplayed my hand.
It’s not cards, it’s my life . I want to enjoy it.
I actually considered being miserable for my whole life because I didn’t want to commit to one extra year of college. Can you believe that?’
Lucy’s thoughts and feelings shuffled and rearranged themselves.
Her stomach flipped with excitement – fucking epiphany .
Lucy muttered, sort of at Olivia, ‘You’ve sacrificed.
Given so much to this thing. This goal .
But what would be the greater waste?’ Lucy was so far on the edge of her seat, the rolling chair almost slipped out from under her.
‘To be miserable and achieve it? Or shift gears with the possibility of some inconvenient consequences for the chance to be truly happy?’
‘Exactly,’ Olivia said. ‘That’s what it’s about after all, right?’
Lucy looked up at the ceiling in astonishment and chuckled. ‘It is.’ She looked down at Olivia. ‘Sometimes you just have to take the leap.’
‘Yeah.’
Lucy griped, ‘It’s fucking terrifying though, isn’t it?’
Olivia laughed. ‘Yeah.’
Lucy stood, suddenly vibrating with the need to move.
‘Can I hug you, Olivia?’
Olivia looked momentarily stunned, then stood. ‘Sure!’
Lucy wrapped her student in her arms and squeezed. ‘You’re going to do great things, Olivia. I know it.’
‘Thank you, Dr. McManis,’ Olivia sighed, melting into the hug.
Lucy took a step back, held Olivia by her shoulders. ‘You stay in touch, okay? Here, let me give you my personal email.’ Lucy grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down her address. ‘Reach out anytime. If you’re feeling frustrated or you have some great news. All right?’
‘Sure. Of course,’ Olivia said, pocketing the paper and retrieving her backpack.
Olivia waved goodbye as she slipped through the office door.
Lucy took a look around her. Surveyed the dusty shelves of books, her desk, the careworn carpet, the windowless walls with their framed degrees.
‘Oh my God,’ she bellowed to the room, to herself, to the damn universe . So much education in her life, and still dumb as a bag of rocks.
Lucy could almost see a bright, shining field of stars erupt before her eyes. It was either a life-changing flash of insight, or a dire medical emergency. At her age, it was difficult to tell.