Page 16 of The Tartan Thesis

“Alright,” I sigh. “Give me the pep talk. I know you want to. Not sure it’ll help, but give it a shot.”

“You know me so well,” she says with a grin, hopping up and sitting on the edge of the desk. “Now, before I tell you it’s going to be alright and that you can do this and other such shite, why don’t you tell me what’s wrong. We’ve all had a bad grade at some point, but pretend I haven’t and explain it to me.”

It’s a simple question, yet difficult to answer. I lean back in the chair, lacing my hands behind my head, trying to pull my racing thoughts together. If I can’t pull up my grades, then I don’t have the mastery of the subject, meaning even if I pass my coursework, I’ll fail my boards, and my thesis will be rejected. I’ll have moved halfway across the world for nothing. And my family will find a hundred different ways to say we told you so. And—

Maeve pokes the abs I didn’t realize had peeked out from under my polo.

“Hey,” I say, jerking forward, my hands coming down to defend myself.

“Don’t think so hard about it. Just say it. Otherwise you get another poke in the place of my choosing, and I doubt you’ll like it.”

“Fine, yeah, okay.” I fumble for more words.

She pokes my ribs before I can stop her. “Out with it! What do you feel?”

“Pain! Stop that!”

She pokes again, this time one of my sore thighs.

“Disappointed!” I yell. That’s it. I feel disappointed.

She stops poking but keeps a digit poised, just in case. “Why disappointed?”

“Because I thought I’d done well,” I answer quickly, keeping a wary eye on the finger. “I prepared the best I could and thought my writing was strong. Apparently I was wrong, and that’s disappointing.”

“What else do you feel?” she asks, a stern look on her face.

I hesitate, which earns another poke.

“In the ear? Really? What is wrong with you?”

She wiggles her finger at me and says, matter-of-factly, “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m flawless. Besides, dry willies are more intimate than wet ones.” She pokes one of my pecs. “Stop delaying. What else do you feel? Out with it!” A poke in the other thigh.

“I’m scared!” I finally shout.

“Of me?” she asks.

“No.” I pause. “Well, yes. But I’m also afraid I’ve come all the way over here, despite my family thinking my studies are a joke, and now I might not have what it takes to even get through my first semester.”

Maeve finally lowers her hand. I’m safe from the finger for now. “That’s something we can work with.”

A noise in the hallway makes me lift a hand to stall her. We both glance toward the door. When no one enters, I relax back into my chair and continue. “What do you recommend? I can’t continue to get C-plus grades.”

She looks at the booklets on my desk and sees the other two scores. “Well, you got good grades in your other two classes, which is reason to celebrate and can help keep the fear at bay.” I nod, grudgingly, not yet ready to celebrate.

“Also, there’s nothing you can do about the grade you already have, so take a deep breath, and let it go. What’s done is done.” She takes a deep inhale and waves for me to do the same. I do. After a moment, she exhales, and I join her, feeling some of the tension in my body releasing. She makes me take one more before going on.

“Finally, we can use this to learn where you’re struggling. Did the professor’s comments reveal anything, or do you need to go talk to him to understand why he gave you that grade?”

I sigh. “He left a note on the back basically saying that while I know the essentials of what happened and why, I barely skimmed the surface on the implications of how the events of the past have impacted modern Scotland. That I’m not drawing my thoughts through far enough.”

“And do you agree?” she asks.

I hesitate, just for a moment, and Maeve raises her finger in warning. “Yes,” I rush to admit. “I agree. I knew it when I answered the questions but hoped I could get by with fancy words and generalizations.”

“So what do you think the real problem is?”

I sigh again, but appreciate her making me talk this out. “I suppose the problem is that I don’t know enough about modern-day Scotland.”