“I stood up to him, though. By the end of the weekend, he came to terms with it. Well, mostly. My mom told him it wasn’t worth dying over, that it was just music. She also made me promise that I’d think about minoring in business so I don’t get screwed over by record companies.”
Professor Cox nods. “Mick Jagger studied at the London School of Economics.”
“That’s so random. How do you know this stuff?” Evan asks.
Professor Cox points to his head. “I have an exceptional brain with great capacities for retaining information, both useful and useless. It is a blessing and a curse.”
“I wish I had that kind of brain.”
“But you do.” Professor Cox smiles. “For music.”
“I’m glad for you,” I say.
“Thanks.” Evan looks at me. “I did it because of you.”
“What do you mean—”
“Evan!” Virgo yells from the deck before Evan can answer. “Can you come here! I think there’s a turd in the water.”
Evan smiles at me and then runs to the water.
Professor Cox looks at me. “It’s nice to see two people in love.”
“Oh, no.” I shake my head. “We’re not in love. Not at all.” I shuffle some papers. “Anyway, I thought you didn’t believe in love.”
“Romantic love, no. But there are many different kinds of love in this world. You can be intimate with someone and call it a friendship. You can be passionate with someone and call it a romantic relationship, which is the one I don’t believe in, since it’s the one that both occurs and fails the most. But if you combine intimacy and passion with the precious third material that involves honesty and trust—you can achieve a kind of love that is very rare in this world. I don’t know much about you and Mr. Whitlock, but I see that you are honest with each other. He trusts you.”
“He does?”
“You don’t see it?”
I look out toward the pool at Evan.
“Like I said, I have an exceptional brain, and I can tell you that with one hundred percent certainty, that boy loves you. Perhaps you might open your eyes so you can see it, too.”
*
The pool is shut down again early, this time for fear of contamination from “the fecal incident,” as Virgo is now calling it. The water is evacuated, and except for the few committed sunbathers, everyone leaves, including Professor Cox.
I stay at the front desk to let newcomers know that the pool is closed but that they are welcome to relax on deck. I’m met with groans and dirty looks, as though I’m the one who had diarrhea in the water.
“Thanks for staying,” Virgo says as he puts the lock on the gate for final closing.
“It’s no problem.”
“Am I locking you in, or locking you out?”
I look over at Evan. He’s stacking chairs against the wall. “I need to talk to Evan for a minute.”
“Good,” Virgo says. “Finally.”
I laugh. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Virgo says. “It’s just—you’ve made an impression on him.”
I’m not sure if he means the photo or me, but I don’t ask him.
Instead, I walk over to Evan.
“Hey. We need to talk.”
Evan throws a chair on the stack and looks at me. “Okay. Now?”
“Yes, now,” I say. “I know you saw the picture.”
“Okay. I did. But—”
“And I don’t know what you think of me, but frankly, I don’t care. I mean—I don’t care if you’re judging me or whatever.”
“I’m not—”
“This is who I am. I am honest, unlike my father. And when I am in love—which I was with Dean—I am honest with my love, as well. It was an absolutely honest photo that was meant to be shared only with him. Maybe I’m too trusting, but I can’t change that about myself, as much as I’d like to.”
“I’m not judging you. I don’t care about that photo. I don’t care about any of that.”
“You don’t?”
“No, Viviana. I like you. That’s it, okay? I like you. And I’d like us to get to know each other better. Maybe hang out more. Maybe kiss more in normal places and without it ending in you yelling at me.”
“Oh,” I say. I take a seat on a lounge chair. “I like you, too. I guess that’s why I’m telling you all this.”
He sits down next to me. “Would you like to hang out sometime, maybe Extreme Ping-Pong or Extreme Billiards or something like that?”
“Does it have to be extreme?”
Evan laughs. “Not at all.”
“Then yes.” I nod. “I’m in a weird, fragile place right now. But I’d like that.”
“Great.”
“Are you free right now?”
I hear a voice above. I look up at Bennett Tower. Professor Cox is on his balcony. He’s singing “The Ants Go Marching”; his uneven voice echoes over the city. Virgo steps out of the office and joins in; his voice overtakes Professor Cox’s. It’s deep and beautiful, even while he sings a silly child’s song.
I scan the tower. My mother is upstairs on the sixteenth floor, probably studying for her law exam and cooking for Mila and me. I expect Sammie’s also home by now, packing up her room. I imagine the O’Briens with their fondue and Mrs. Woodley with her younger man.
“I am,” I say. “I am free.”
I’m free to live my life and love my life any way I want, as long as it’s with kindness and honesty and an open, trusting heart.
I see that now.
That it’s my life to live.
And mine alone.