“It’s dickish.”
“Well, yeah, you are.”
“That’s true, too,” he said, smiling.
Minerva shook her head and smiled back.
“Do you really have a fiancée?” she asked as the car slid onto campus.
She regretted asking the question immediately; it was a bit toopersonal and open. He laughed. “You think no flesh-and-blood woman would date me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“There’s always subtext in your words.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You speak with footnotes tacked onto every sentence.” He laughed again, cheeky and good-humored. “Carolyn picked her for me. She even picked the ring. Another Boston Brahmin to join our illustrious family. What, are you shocked that they still arrange marriages in this day and age?”
“You’re very melodramatic, do you realize that?” Minerva replied, flustered by the exchange.
“Part of the charm,” he said, and parked the car in front of her dorm. “You’re not offended, are you? Because—”
“No,” she said quickly, and the sight of Ledge House, which she normally thought beautiful and stately, suddenly struck her as uncanny, even treacherous. She flinched in her seat. “Did Thomas ever tell you what kind of research he was working on?” she asked. “I know you said you only talked about class stuff, but this would have been class related. Something to do with witchcraft and New England, maybe?”
She really didn’t want to spend so much time thinking about Thomas Murphy; frankly she wasn’t even sure why she kept dwelling on him. Yeah, there was something that eerily reminded her of Ginny when she thought about him, and he also reminded Minerva of herself, but she was probably creating connections that were not there. Her depressed, anxious mind was conjuring mysteries and puzzles.
“Not really. He might have told my grandmother the specifics. I don’t have anything to do with the foundation and who she picks for the scholarly grants. He had a different major, we weren’t in the same crowd. Why do you ask?”
“I think his research interests overlapped with mine,” she said as diplomatically as possible, scooping up her backpack. She opened the door. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Happy to help. Hey, you’re friends with Patricia, right?” he asked, pressing the eject button and handing her the CD.
She tucked it back in its case. “Yes.”
“She’s throwing a party Saturday.”
“Patricia is always throwing a party. Or a luau. Or something.”
“Are you going?”
“It’s not my style,” she said, although she could already imagine Hideo badgering her about it. Minerva had narrowly avoided heading to the movies the previous night, but only because Hideo had an unexpected date with a philosophy student from Harvard.
“I’m planning to attend. And not puke in the bushes this time.”
He looked as if he expected them to continue this line of conversation, but Minerva had no idea what else she was supposed to tell him. She had no intention of partaking in Jell-O shots, beer pong, and Ace of Base playing on repeat. What she needed was to rest.
“Thanks again. For the ride.”
“No problem. It’s wicked good, you know?” he said, pointing at the CD case she was holding.
“Yeah. Fuck. I forgot to…I’ll burn you a copy later. Or some other music. I give my friends music all the time, but I’ve been distracted,” she said as she stuffed the CD in her backpack.
“Am I being upgraded to friend?”
She zipped the backpack closed, looking at his amused face. “Trial friendship,” she said.
Minerva hurried up to the front door rather than rounding the building. She went straight to the bathroom and looked for the bottle of aspirin. She wandered into the kitchen and washed the pills down with a few sips of coffee.
