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“It was okay,” Mari answers. “Not nearly long enough.”
I laugh. “I get that. I tried working on my dissertation, but I only got a couple of pages done.”
“That’s still progress!”
“True. At least I’m on track still. It just doesn’t feel like I’m accomplishing much when I’m only doing a few pages at a time. Then I look at my overall progress, and I realize I’ve written over a hundred pages already.”
Mari gasps. “Wait, seriously?”
“Yeah. It will be two hundred when I’m finished with it.”
“I didn’t realize dissertations were that long.”
“Two hundred pages is pretty average. I’m in a dissertation support group, and a couple of people are shooting for three hundred or more pages. Some are only going for a hundred. It’s really more about content than length.”
“Wow. I don’t know if I could write that much.”
“You’d be surprised how easy it is when you have an interesting topic,” I say. “I could probably write more if I broadened my focus a bit. I narrowed it down a lot to keep from overwhelming myself.”
“I never realized how much work went into a dissertation. I’m in awe.”
I smile. “Well, thanks. Don’t be in awe of me yet. I still need it to be accepted.”
“Oh, yeah. I heard you have to defend it or something.”
“Yep. That’s the part I’m not looking forward to.”
“You’ll do great, Mark,” John says. “You’ve been working incredibly hard. Your board will be thrilled.”
I reach over and squeeze his shoulder in gratitude. “I wouldn’t be this far along if it weren’t for you.”
John hasn’t helped with the dissertation itself, but he’s been my biggest cheerleader since we met. He keeps me on track and encourages me when I feel like I can’t do it anymore. Writing a dissertation is a lot of work, and having someone on my side helps tremendously. I plan on thanking him in the acknowledgments if I ever publish it.
“Hi, and welcome to Francesca’s! I’m Jenna, and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you something to drink?” The restaurant is busy for a Monday night, and there’s a rundown look beneath her forced smile. I waited tables during my undergrad – until I discovered my affinity for gambling – so I know how she feels.
“How does wine sound?” John asks Mari and me. When we both nod in agreement, he orders a bottle of Cabernet for the table. Mari is underage, but Jenna doesn’t card her. This place is pretty lenient when it comes to drinking laws.
While Jenna runs off to get our wine, we focus on our menus. When she gets back, we’re ready to order our food.
“I’ll have the chicken parm with spaghetti,” Mari orders. “And garlic bread!”
I grin at her enthusiasm. She mentioned once that Italian is her favorite food, which is why I recommended this place for our first date.
John gets some kind of seafood dish, and I go for the veal parmigiana. Jenna writes down our orders and scurries off to get them in so that she can get to her next table.
It’ll probably take a while for our food to be ready, judging by the lack of empty tables in the restaurant. But I’m okay with that. The point of coming to dinner is to get to know Mari, and for her to get to know us. That’s easier to do with more time.
“What did you do over the weekend, John?”
“I graded papers and caught up on some of my TV shows. It was quiet and relaxing, which is exactly what I needed.”
Mari sighs. “That sounds nice. Not the grading papers part, but the quiet and relaxing part. Mine was the opposite.”
“Oh yeah? What did you do?”
“My friend dragged me to a frat party.”
Jealousy immediately consumes me. I know what happens at frat parties. I hope the guys there understood they could look but not touch.
“You didn’t like it?”
“Parties aren’t really my scene. Plus, well, there was something… different about this fraternity.”
“What do you mean?”
Instead of answering immediately, Mari just bites her lip and plays with her napkin. She then takes a long sip of wine before answering.
“Well, the first floor was normal. It was just people hanging out and talking over the loud music. Then this guy invited Jess and me up to the second floor. When we got there, we walked in and found out it wasn’t just a party but…like…a sex party.”
My eyes widen. “You went to a sex party?”
“I didn’t stay long,” she adds quickly. “And I made it clear to everyone there that I was already taken. Jess enjoyed herself, though. A lot.”
At those words, Mari blushes. Judging by the look on her face, Jess got laid at the sex party. Good for her. I attended a few of those when I was her age, too. They’re a lot of fun.
“That does sound like an interesting night.”
