—What did she do that no one else did, she asked everyone else.
Someone behind me said, She washed her hands. Another voice said, Oh yeah.
She said the next person’s name, and as they trudged over to the sink, she leaned over and said, That was very impressive, Lizet.
I know it was only the first step of thousands and that I wasn’t doing anything like actual research, but to have Dr. Kaufmann—whose own research had kept me at a library computer hours longer than I’d intended as my brain turned her into a new kind of celebrity—say this to me just after having lost myself in the work might’ve changed my life. When class ended and we’d cleaned our stations and stored our lab coats and goggles, after distributing the pre-lab worksheets for the next class meeting, she said to the group, Your student IDs should be set up to open the door by the end of the day. I imagine most of you will need to come back and continue practicing.
She picked up her lab notebook and held it against her chest.
—Some of you will just want to. She looked directly at me and said, That is encouraged as well.
Before leaving, she reminded us she’d be available during office hours and via e-mail should we have any questions or concerns. The syllabus noted her office hours were later that afternoon, and as I packed up and zipped myself into my coat—I had to go to the library to get my spring work schedule—I convinced myself that it wouldn’t be sucking up to visit and ask about her research, to tell her that the project described on her faculty Web page had drawn me to her particular section, to mention that I also loved the beach.
*
As I left my supervisor’s office and tugged on my mittens, a shock of red hair dodged behind a wall of shelves. Without meaning to, I said, Ethan? His face poked out from behind the corner a few seconds later, as if he’d debated answering.
—Lizet! he said. Hey, I’ve been looking for you.
—Well that’s not creepy.
—Oh I’m totally being creepy, I freely admit that.
We walked up to each other, and I thought he would hug me, but he kept one hand on the strap of that intensely buttoned backpack.
—I thought you worked Monday afternoons, he said.
—I do, I did, last semester. This semester is different.
I flapped my new schedule in my mittened hand. A guy inside the closest reading room turned and shushed us, making more noise than either of us so far.
—It’s the first day of class, nerd! Ethan shouted at him. I choked on a laugh and he pointed to the library’s front doors, whispering as we headed toward them, Have you had lunch yet?
I had just over an hour to kill until Dr. Kaufmann’s office hours started, and I knew if I went to my room, I’d let the cold keep me from coming back out. So I was, in fact, planning to go get food just then.
—Perfect, he said. Carter House? It’s the only decent place within walking distance.
—I’m not twenty-one, remember?
—I remember. But it’s only twenty-one-and-over after five. They have great sandwiches.
—Wait, why were you looking for me?
—It’s not a big deal, he said. I wanted to invite you to this thing I run for my hall, but also just, you know, say hey, see how your break went.
He swung the door open for me and we stepped into the cold—no snow but the threat of snow—and after I tried saying It was fine into the freezing wind whipping at our ears, we both ducked into our coats and walked downhill in silence, a reflex for people like us—people from places where it never got that cold.
The bar was old and smelled damp, the walls covered in wood, that wood covered in names scrawled on and carved into it. It was dark and warm and felt in some ways like an extension of campus, but there were older people there and a couple families, all eating the sandwiches Ethan had mentioned, baskets of free peanuts keeping each party company. We ordered at the bar—Ethan got a beer with too many words in its name—then grabbed a booth by the window, our coats sprawled out on our respective benches.
—So how was Miami?
I tugged off my mittens, instantly worried at his word choice—Miami instead of home—thinking maybe he was circling around to asking about Ariel Hernandez, that that’s what this was actually about. How could I have fallen for his invitation, considering how many people had asked me how I was holding up along with the fact that he was an RA? I imagined the e-mail he probably got from the Dean’s Office: We are aware you’ve befriended the Cuban. I put the mittens on the table and said, What’s that supposed to mean?
—Jesus, he laughed. It means just what I said! Here, I’ll show you how it’s done.
He cleared his throat dramatically, then said, Seattle was great! It rained every day I was home. I spent New Year’s on the couch with my mom. But I went on some great hikes, wrote ten songs about Mt. Rainier, high-fived an orca. It was swell!
He leaned across the table, dropped his eyes to my level.