When we wrap up, Kiara bounds over to me, clearly eager to make up for all the classes I’ve missed lately. She throws her arms around my shoulders and hugs me tight, filling my mouth with her coarse black hair.
“I missed you,” she says.
I awkwardly pat her back. “I saw you two weeks ago.”
“Yeah, but two weeks is like an eternity when measured in pages of Sullivan’s droning.”
“I heard that,” Sullivan says from where he’s stacking chairs.
Kiara spins around. “Good. Maybe you’ll workharder next time. Now, stop eavesdropping, pretty boy.” She blows him a kiss and turns back to me.
“Miss Berton, a word,” Dr. Paatel calls from the front of the classroom, tweaking his bow tie absently between his fingers.
“Do you think his wife lets him out of the house like that, or does he put them on once he gets to campus?” Kiara whispers.
I try not to laugh, picturing Dr. Paatel tying a bow tie in the rearview mirror of his car. I give Kiara’s hand a quick squeeze in acknowledgment of her attempt to cheer me up and leave her to help stack chairs while I see what Dr. Paatel needs.
“Is everything alright, Hazel?” he asks as he slides his laptop into a worn leather bag. “It’s not like you to miss so many classes in a row, and your pages today… well, I think we both know they weren’t your best work.”
He’s trying to be diplomatic, but I already feel like I’ve got red pen marks all over my skin. I don’t need more.
“Sorry.” I squeeze the word past the tightness in my throat and avert my eyes, watching Kiara and Sullivan across the room. Their contrast feels like something out of a story. Perfect foils. Her black skin to his pale whiteness. Her round curves to his skin-and-bones height. Her smile to his pout. Her sass to his melancholy. It’s almost comical how different they are.
“Don’t apologize. I just want to know if there’s something going on that’s affecting your work?” Dr.Pataal says, snapping me out of my tangential thoughts.
He’s my supervising professor, and he has every right to know why I’ve suddenly started ditching, but I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to be the girl whose mom is in the hospital. I don’t want pitying looks or stories about their distant relative who had cancer.
But Mom’s not coming home anytime soon. Aunt Joan lives two hours away, has a life of her own and kids who are much younger than me. She can’t just drop everything to be at the hospital every time I have to leave. Plus, I don’t want to leave Mom. I want all the time I can get with her.
“My mom’s in the hospital,” I say all in one breath.
His eyebrows touch his hairline. I guess he wasn’t expecting that. He’s quiet, and it’s clear he’s waiting for me to go on and explain.
“She has cancer.” The words stick in my throat, and I rush ahead, squeezing them out. “It’s fine, though. She’s doing fine.” Liar. I’m a big, fat liar, and I’m certain he can tell. “She’s going to be fine,” I amend. “They have her on this trial… it’s gonna be fine.” How many times can I say fine in one minute? I need to shut the fuck up.
He studies me over the rim of his glasses. “You know you can take a leave of absence for family emergencies and pick back up next semester.”
The thought of paying for another semester makes me break out in hives. “Isn’t there something else Ican do? This is my last quarter, and there are only four weeks left.”
He sighs and leans back against the desk. “Alright. Here’s what I’m willing to do. If you can get one of your classmates to record the lectures, I’ll talk to your other professors. You need to come to at least half of our remaining workshops and have your thesis novel done on time. Are you sure you can do that?”
“Yes, absolutely. I can do that.” I hope.
After thanking him and saying goodbye, I head to the door where Kiara is waiting for me.
“Oh, and Miss Berton,” Dr. Paatel calls across the room. “I’m sorry about your mom.”
My throat has now restricted to the size of one of those tiny coffee straws they used to give out on airplanes. My neck aches, and I can barely breathe. I nod at him and walk outside with Kiara.
“What was that about? Is your mom okay?” she asks the moment the door closes behind us.
No. “Yeah.”
Kiara gives me a sideways look. “You know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”
I try to push an exhale past the restriction in my throat. One breath. Two breaths. “Everything’s fine. My mom’s just a little sick.” Understatement of the year. “I might need to miss some more classes. Can you record the lectures for me?”
Hurt flashes in Kiara’s eyes, and for a few seconds I think she sees right through my lie and is going to call me on it. But then she hooks her arm in mine and juts her chin at Sullivan, who walked out right behindus. “Sully baby, you’ll record the lectures for Hazel, won’t you?”
