“I should get the Chinese food now,” Hideo said. “Do you want to come with me? I need to go to Stop and Shop, but it won’t take long.”
“No, I’ll wait for you here,” she said. She feared he’d ask her more about Noah or Carolyn. She didn’t want to discuss them. Nor did she relish the idea of listening to Hideo’s loud music while they drove, the notes like sandpaper against her ears. She was raw and prickly these days; perhaps it was another side effect of this lonely, hot summer.
After Hideo stepped out, Minerva fiddled with her notes, underlining a word here and there. She took a final swig of her coffee, then walked back into the library and looked at Thomas’s two boxes.
Once again, she recalled the last time she’d seen Thomas Murphy, when she’d cut through Briar’s Commons and bumped into him in the middle of the night. It had been quite dark, and she’d hardly noticed him before they almost collided. He’d looked frightened, hadn’t he? He’d stared at her with wide, alarmed eyes before shuffling away.
Minerva opened one of the boxes and took out a book, then another. She set them aside without really looking at them. Thomas hadn’t been wearing a jacket that night, and now that she thought about it, he hadn’t been wearing a hat or mittens, either. He couldn’t have gone far dressed like that, without a coat or any other clothing to protect him from the elements, like the protagonist inThe Vanishingcouldn’t have gone far.
The protagonist who was modeled after Virginia.
Minerva shook her head and grabbed the two books she’d toyed with, ready to pack them away again. A single piece of paper slipped from in between the pages of one of them and she picked it up.
It was an ordinary piece of paper. On it, Thomas had drawn a few idle doodles with a black pen. They were nothing special.
Except that Minerva had seen drawings like those at the Willows: the drawings resembled the charcoal sketches she had photographed.
Minerva stared at the page. Quickly she began looking foranother loose page tucked inside the two volumes. When she didn’t find one, she began pulling out other books from the box without any luck. Finally she opened a notebook, and its pages were lined with more and more of those drawings that inexplicably resembled Virginia’s sketches.
That flower! She’d seen that flower pattern in the archive at the Willows. Circles and more circles. And the markings on the side, almost like letters but not quite. There they were, and other drawings too, as she turned the pages, drawings that resembled in their mood and style Virginia’s artwork.
It was like he had photocopied the three sketches she’d found, only these were drawings made with a pen—the eerie similarity made a shiver go down her spine. Because essentially Thomas had vanished, like Virginia had vanished, and she had not seriously thought about this coincidence until now.
Perhaps she was exaggerating. Perhaps the drawings were not that similar. She couldn’t be sure until she compared them to the photos she’d taken at the Willows, and yet her heart was beating fast. She felt a dread she could not name.
She clutched the notebook and raised her head, listening intently. The dorm was quiet, no steps were heard on the floor above, there was no opening or closing of doors. The house remained sensibly still and silent, the windows locked, the curtains pulled tight. Yet she thought she’d heard something, and even if she hadn’t, perhaps it was that old feeling that her great-grandmother used to call a portent. It was like a thorn under your skin, jabbing you and making you pay attention.
Minerva thrust the notebook aside and stood up. She went to the kitchen and lingered by the table, attempting to peer at the darkness that extended outside but keeping her distance from the windows. When Hideo had left it was still dusk, yet night seemed to have fallen suddenly, blanketing the house with an oppressive blackness.
There was no porch light, so she couldn’t see who was standing outside. But she knew there was someone even if no silhouette lingered at the edges of the kitchen windows.
That someone wasn’t Hideo, nor any of the other resident directors who might be making their rounds. Not that they would venture to this sector of campus, since Minerva was supposed to keep guard over these buildings.
Then she began to hear it: shoes upon the path, then upon the steps that led up to the porch. She’d anticipated the visitor, yet the knock on the door startled her so much she held on to the back of a chair.
“Minerva? Are you there?”
That was Conrad Carter’s voice. She pressed her lips together and stepped forward, opening the door a tad.
“What is it, Conrad?” she asked.
“I’m dropping by to talk about the other night. You know, to apologize,” he said.
The young man smiled at her with his friendliest, sunniest smile. Conrad could be fun and pleasant when he wanted to. She’d seen him crank up the charm with his fellow residents. In the beginning, when she’d first met him, he’d tried to seem likable. All throughout September and late into October he’d greeted her with a warm hello.
“Thanks. But I’ve filed my report already,” she said, returning his smile with a wary stare.
“I know you did.”
“I can’t delete the report, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I was thinking I’m bored tonight, the cable’s all fucked up in my room, and the campus is deserted. Want to go to Bailey’s to play pool? You like pool.”
Minerva crossed her arms. She’d gone to Bailey’s twice, both times with Hideo and a few of the other resident directors. She’d bumped into Conrad Carter that second time, and they’d played pool and chatted. Well, he chatted. She’d been quiet, as she often was in bars and loud, chaotic places like that. Then, when she’d excused herself, saying she was going back to campus, he’d told her they could walk together.
It was a nice walk in the crispness of the October night andConrad Carter had kept talking and she’d answered his questions and their rapport was pleasant. Then they’d reached the edge of Briar’s Commons and there was the path he needed to take back to his dorm, so she prepared to bid him goodbye.
Before she turned away, he’d kissed her. One fleeting kiss as the wind blew and made the tops of the trees sway. Back home, she’d seldom gone out with anyone, so busy with her studies and part-time jobs. She was quite hopeless with people, anyway, barely could muster the courage to attempt a romantic encounter. She’d had one boyfriend in high school, a relationship that amounted to a single season. There had been Jonás in university, who detested the idea of her going abroad the moment she mentioned it, who accused her of being lukewarm about him during the whole year they dated, which was true. Then in the States she hadn’t ventured beyond message boards—the guy from Brookline whom she’d met a few times had connected with her that way.
