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“Yes, that is what I am thinking.”
I sighed. Predictably, I had tired of this game before he did.
“How are you getting to East Lansing, Nao Kao? What is your plan?”
“I thought we could go together, la.” He laughed nervously, perhaps sensing my frustration.
I turned back over and looked him squarely in the eyes. “Only if you ask me properly. Repeat after me: Liss, will you come to the workshop at Michigan State with me so that I will have a ride there?”
He laughed genuinely, but repeated my request verbatim, even adding the wordplease, which I had, as usual, forgotten.
So, it was that we came to find ourselves in East Lansing one gorgeous fall Saturday when the trees poured forth their colors, every shade of red and orange and yellow known to nature. Their rainbow put me in an uncommonly good mood when the workshop ended and we spilled out of the Erickson Hall kiva and into the bright sunshine. The light danced on the water, seeding the river with prickles of diamonds from one end of campus to the other. Squirrels – the bold and well-fed breed that inhabit college campuses from east to west – skittered across the sidewalk.
“Time to explore,” I announced happily. “I might be a Wolverine, but I know a good campus when I see one and, honestly, this one is the best.”
“Please tell me you do not want to rent the canoe.” Nao Kao eyed the livery across the river from the College of Education, the aluminum hulls bobbing along the banks.
“No, no, enough about the canoes. This campus is great because of the gardens. And the ice cream store.”
“The ice cream store?”
“Yes, they have their own dairy here. Not just the ice cream store – they actually have an entire herd of cows!”
“You’re serious?”
“We can drive out to the farms if you don’t believe me. Maybe we can even see the cow that has a window in its stomach to show the different chambers. A cow’s stomach has four, you know?”
Nao Kao blanched.
“I’m kidding. Well not about the cow with the window in it. That really does exist. But going to the farms. C’mon, let’s go for a walk.”
The sky was brilliant blue as we meandered through campus.
“I’m going to give you a proper tour,” I announced after lunch in the International Center. “I want to show you the bell tower and the library and all of the gardens. Especially the gardens. We can walk along the river.”
From one end of campus to the other we roamed, Nao Kao occasionally reaching for my hand or slinging his arm over my shoulders in a way I would not have entertained in Ann Arbor, where spies, I was convinced, lurked around every bend, family friends and colleagues of my parents who might further incriminate me.
The trail inside the Sanford Natural Area was dappled with leaves, the sunlight filtering in through canopies of color giving it an ethereal quality. Around a bend we happened upon a doe browsing in the undergrowth. Nao Kao squeezed my hand hard, stopping me so that we would not startle it.
“This place is like a heaven,” he whispered, bringing his arm around my waist. I could only nod my assent.
After the deer scampered away, I realized I had been holding my breath.
At the Dairy Store I ordered us doubles,my treat, I announced magnanimously, and handed Nao Kao a waffle cone heaped with mounds of chocolate chip cookie dough and strawberry ice cream, more than one person could, or should, reasonably eat, but of which he made quick work.
“Why did you ask for bread there?” he asked, eyeing the plastic bag I clutched with a few stale slices of bread inside.
“So that we can feed the ducks.”
I steered us to the spot where the Red Cedar tumbles over a few tiny rapids, where a lone kayaker was taking advantage of the recent rains that had swollen the water from its summer trickle to practice his moves in the middle of the little river. I opened the bag and began tearing the bread into small pieces, handing them to Nao Kao to toss into the water. Ducks and geese flapped furiously for the scraps, their honks and quacks joining the happy chorus of fall around us. I laid back to watch the clouds floating across the sky.
“Thanks for coming,” Nao Kao said quietly, settling next to me, our supply of duck carbs exhausted. He tousled my hair, brushing my cheek with the back of his fingers.
“Do you want to go to the planetarium?” I asked suddenly, nearly smacking my head into his as I sat up remembering the Saturday night shows I’d attended as a kid.
“I’ve never been to a planetarium. What’s it like?” he asked, and I described the high dome and the simulated sky.
The last stop on our tour was Spartan Village.
