“That’s really nice,” I said.
We found our seats, and I read through the program, just two simple pages folded and stapled together. The Little Prince was being played by Mikaela Barns.
“Hey,” I said, pointing.
“I know, she’s the one who told me about this. She also made the set and helped with the adaptation. Essentially, she’s great at everything she does.”
The audience was at least half children and not a single one of them spoke or moved during the entire show, which was a testament to how good it was. Mikaela was amazing as the prince and it was obvious that every single actor who came onstage was so happy to be there. When it was over, Sam took my hand and led me out of the theater, because I was so dazed and happy I couldn’t evenconcentrate on moving myself.
“What did you think?” he asked when we were outside.
“That was amazing. That was so good. Thank you for taking me.”
“You really liked it?”
“Of course I liked it. And I know exactly what I’m going to talk about now.”
“Seriously? I mean—obviously. Of course. That was my plan all along.” He puffed out his chest and looked self-righteous.
“Well, I don’t believe you for a second, but thank you anyway.”
“Do you mind if I sit in?”
“Of course not. I kind of assumed you would.”
“Really? Oh, great. I mean, I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
“Do we have time to get a coffee?”
Sam looked at his phone and then showed me the screen. Three thirty.
“There’s a coffee shop in the building where your aunt’s class is,” he said.
“Really?”
“This is college. There’s basically a coffee shop in every building.”
Aunt Helen’s class was held in the Turner Building, one of the larger buildings on campus and one that housed the majority of the English Department. It was exactly how Iremembered it: slightly run-down with plenty of offices crammed with books and papers and classrooms with high ceilings and wood paneling. It was perfect, and it was a little creepy, like Aunt Helen’s ghost still roamed the halls. I even thought it smelled like her, but I’m sure it was just my imagination.
This was the building I was in when I first decided I wanted to be a teacher.
Every so often I’d sit in on one of Aunt Helen’s classes, and I spent most of the time not really paying attention to her, instead noting how completely she held the class in her attention. Students sat with notebooks and pens or laptops and listened—the room was completely silent except for my aunt’s voice.
I could do this, I reminded myself. No matter how nervous I was, this was what I wanted to do.
The coffee shop was in the basement, which had recently been redone to include a massive study area with both individual cubicles and long, open tables. The coffee shop was called Alvin’s—another stab in the heart—and there was a short line of people wearing glasses and holding books, with pens tucked above their ears. The whole thing made me more nervous. My stomach flipped over with every minute that passed, over and over and over until it didn’t know which way was up.
“Just breathe,” Sam whispered. I bought us two cups of coffee from an impossibly adorable girl in a gray vintagedress and red lipstick, and I handed one to Sam with shaking hands.
“Where’s her classroom?” I asked. “I forgot what number her classroom is.”
“It’s fine. I know where it is. Come here for a minute,” Sam said. We put our things down on a free table and sat next to each other. “Have you ever done breathing exercises?”
“I mean, I breathe a lot. I’m breathing right now.”
He laughed. “That’s not what I mean. Okay, try this. Breathe in through your nose, as much air as you can take. Then let it out through your mouth slowly. As slow as you can. Do that three times, and every time let the air out slower and slower. You can close your eyes too.”
“I’m freaking out.”
