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Thalia leans against me, looking out at the inky waves, and she tells me that when she was a kid they lived in San Diego for a few years, and Javier told her that if she looked out over the ocean hard enough, she could see Australia.
I ask her if she ever did, and she laughs and says only when she squinted really hard.
When I drive back to Marysburg the next morning, I’m certain of one thing: I have fallen desperately, utterly, and completely head over heels for this girl.Chapter Forty-ThreeThaliaI lean my head back against the wall, the tile floor cold against my butt. I think the same thing I always think when I’m waiting to meet with a professor: how come there’s no waiting room?
It’s an academic department at a major university. There must be students waiting for someone in this hallway literally night and day. Why not have a waiting room? Some chairs, at least?
I yawn, stretch, arch my back, and change position ever so slightly. Even though I was supposed to meet with Dr. Castellano at three, and it’s now three-thirty, I’m not particularly surprised that she’s running late, and luckily my classes are over for the day.
School’s been back in session for a week now, and it’s… normal. Despite everything that happened last semester, a semester which started with me accidentally hooking up with my professor and ended with my professor-turned-boyfriend helping me get my brother back in rehab, so far this semester is just a semester.
My brother’s still in rehab, and he’ll be there until the end of March. I go over to my boyfriend’s house several nights a week, and last Saturday he took me on a date to Luray Caverns. My roommates are insane, but the lovable, good kind of insane.
Yes, I’ve got too much homework, and yes, I’m working furiously on my thesis, and I’m still a part-time research assistant and I’m mentoring a high school student who wants to go into psychology, but that’s all pretty regular, just busy. I’m always busy.
Finally — finally — Dr. Castellano’s door opens, and another student comes out, followed by Dr. Castelllano standing in the doorway behind him, one hand on the door, and even though he’s nearly a foot taller than her and looks like he plays sports, it’s clear who’s in charge.
“Thanks, Doctor C!” he says as he walks away, and she beckons me to get off the floor.
“Castellano,” she says, half to herself. “I swear, they can all toss around Gronkowski no problem but they can’t manage Castellano? Hi, Thalia. Thanks for waiting.”
“No problem,” I say, sitting in one of the chairs opposite her desk. “How was your winter break?”
She doesn’t answer, just goes around her desk. Something tightens in her face, around her mouth, and she doesn’t look at me as she sits, then opens a drawer, every movement exacting and precise in a way that makes me instantly nervous.
A shiver works its way down my spine, and suddenly, I notice how cold my fingertips are. It’s from sitting on the floor, that’s all…
Dr. Castellano pulls something from the drawer, shuts it again. It’s an envelope, and for a moment, she holds it in front of herself, looking at it.
I feel like I might throw up, because I can tell that this isn’t good, and there’s almost nothing I hate more than bad surprises.
“Thalia, I’m afraid you’re being accused of an ethics violation,” she says, finally looking at me.
My heart drops to my feet. I can practically feel the blood draining from my face, and I can’t move.
All I can think is, I thought we’d dodged this.
“A report has been made to the ethics oversight committee that you’ve been participating in a romantic relationship with one of your professors,” she goes on, and now she’s not looking at me, she’s looking at the envelope again. “And I’m afraid it’s been determined that that falls under the category of behavioral misconduct.”
I can’t move. I feel like I’ve been encased in a layer of ice, like a tree after a storm, and all I can do is stare at Dr. Castellano and listen to my heart beat and think this isn’t really happening, I’m having a nightmare.
“I specifically asked the committee if they would let me give you the notification in person, rather than send it through the mail system,” she says. “And I have to say, this seems unlike you, Thalia. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”
I don’t say anything. I can’t even breathe, and I feel like the walls are quickly closing in, white on every side of my vision.
“Thalia?” she asks, her voice sounding distant, far away.
Then, suddenly, I gasp and my lungs fill with air and the walls go back to where they’re supposed to be and Dr. Castellano is just looking at me, concern written all over her stern face.
