Assumptions (7 page)

He strolled among the obelisks and covered
urns, monuments to captains of industry, politicians, war heroes,
and plain folk, hundreds of years of life now stilled, at rest.
Lulu Fellows read under her tree, sixteen forever. Will imagined
her at school, passing notes to friends or, maybe, daydreaming
about a boy or a long summer day on the shore of Lake Michigan.

On hard days, Will always found himself in
front of the Pearce monument, a young mother followed soon after by
her child, lying together in sculpture and in death. He did not
have to stretch his mind far to read his mother's name, along with
his own, carved into the white stone.

Will tried to recall his mother’s smile,
maybe from that last day in Jerusalem or maybe some other day, it
didn't matter, but the image kept falling away from him like dry
sand through open fingers.

"Mr. Emerson, how are you this fine morning?"
said a man's voice, raspy from decades spent drinking cheap whiskey
in the smoke of the corner tavern. Will turned to greet the
Caretaker. "Oh, dear boy. What's happened to you?"

"Talked too much."

"Well, maybe you should avoid that from now
on." The old man cracked a sly smile. "Or get some bigger
friends."

"Probably should." Will shook the man's bony
hand. "Sorry I couldn't make it for All Souls. Did you have a lot
of visitors?"

"No. Not like it used to be. The train used
to stop here, you know. Folks used to come and picnic by the pond
and visit on special days. Not much anymore. No more train. Just
steps to nowhere. No. Not like it used to be." The Caretaker shook
his head. "Mr. Emerson, why is it I always find you here?"

"Huh? Oh." Will thought a moment. "It's
peaceful, I guess."

"Peaceful? Young man, I think you would be
hard pressed to find anywhere in this place that is not."

"Point taken."

"You miss her, don't you? Pond is lovely
today. You should have a look. Come. Walk with me." The Caretaker
wobbled across the leaf-littered grass. Will followed.

"I think about her all the time," said
Will.

"It seems only natural."

"Does it? I'm not so sure." They walked along
a curve in the road past a cluster of stone pillars. "I'm beginning
to think my father has the right idea."

"How so?" asked the Caretaker.

"He's erased her. Packed away every photo. He
never speaks her name. I don't see him for days. There's nothing
left to remind him."

"Including you."

"Including me."

They arrived at the pond. It sparkled in the
morning sun. Will inched to the very edge, knelt, and swished his
hand in the water, already wintry cold. A gust of wind blew a
ripple across the surface, distorting the reflections of nearby
mausoleums and setting the Canada geese bobbing.

"I told you it was lovely," said the
Caretaker.

"Yes. Lovely."

"So, my young friend, what will you do?"

"Ever notice there are no angels here?"

"Can't say as I have." The old man said no
more. The sound of the rustling branches and the honking geese
filled the void.

Will stood. “I pray. I pray for her return, I
pray for my father to breathe again, I pray for everyone to stop
looking at me . . . and . . . sometimes, I pray for Him to take me
instead." Will looked out over the pond. "I don't know why I'm
telling you all of this."

A shadow fell over Will's feet. He turned to
face the visitor, but found no one. He checked his watch and
adjusted his backpack. He would have to run to catch the el in time
to make it to school before first bell.

Will barely saw the shadow pass from the
trees across the roadway into the heavy stone portico at the front
of May Chapel. He strained to see. He looked at his watch again
then headed for the small building.

The portico was empty. He didn't expect to
find the doors unlocked, but he pulled the handle anyway, nearly
losing his balance as the door swung freely. The dim entryway gave
way to the soft glow reflected off green and gold tiles at the
front of the chapel. Will walked into the light.

"Hello? Anyone here?" He listened
intently.

The flutter of wings swept across the
darkness of the entryway. Will tiptoed toward the doors, eyes up. A
mourning dove swooped low over his head, sending him to his knees.
The bird landed on one of the wooden arches. Will picked himself
up. “How did you get in here? Hold on. I'll let you out." He opened
the door, propping it wide with his backpack. “Okay. Out you go.”
He took off his coat and waved it at the dove. The bird flew from
arch to arch until, ten minutes later, it flew out into the
portico. Will grabbed his backpack. The chapel door slammed and the
bird flew east into the sun, now high in the morning sky.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: ATONEMENT

The el arrived just as Jordyn reached the
platform, leaving her twenty minutes of slush time to kill on the
other end in the empty corridors of Eastview. She tidied her locker
and looked over her O. Chem. paper. Ten minutes to the first bell
and then five more to Geography. She walked, slow as she could, to
Professor Embry's classroom.

"Jordyn!" Logan waved her over to join the
crowd at the window. She took her seat. “C'mon, put your stuff down
and get over here," he said.

“No, thanks.”

“Oh, come on," he whined.

Alex, standing on a chair, popped her head
above the others. "Gimme those!" She yanked the binoculars out of
Mark's hands. "Yeah, looks like Logan's gonna lose his . . .”

"Alex!" Cooper shouted.

Logan stared at Jordyn. “What’s the problem?”
he asked.

“Me? No problem."

"Then come over here. Should be good today.
Wait until you see what Mark planted this time."

"No. Thanks."

Will ran through the door, panting.

Logan sneered. "Lookin' good, Emerson. Maybe
you'll mind your own business from now on."

Will opened his mouth. Jordyn's books crashed
to the floor and all eyes focused on her. Even the students at the
window abandoned their watch.

Logan sat in his seat next to Jordyn and
leaned forward in a weak attempt at privacy. "What's the
problem?"

"No problem,” said Jordyn. "You on the
other

hand . . .”

“I don’t understand,” Logan whimpered.

“Well, that’s really the point, isn’t
it?"

"Seriously, come on over. You’re going to
miss the show."

"I said ‘no’, thanks."

"I don't get it. Yesterday . . ."

"Yesterday I was curious. But I thought about
your little game and, well, it’s not very fun. Really, it’s just
rude. Yesterday I thought you were someone else." She packed her
books, walked to the back of the room, and took the open seat
beside Will. The students at the window looked at Logan, whispered
to each other, and promptly returned to their game. Logan sat at
his desk at the front of the room, alone.

The bell rang and the students scurried to
their places. Professor Embry flew through the door and began to
speak immediately. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've a lot of material
to cover today. Notebooks open, pens up. Today, I'll be telling you
all about the political implications of cartography in the 1940s.”
And he did just that, non-stop until the bell rang fifty minutes
later.

Will packed his things quickly and headed for
the door. Jordyn followed him out. By the time she got through the
door, he was already half-way down the hall. She jogged to catch
up.

“Hi, I’m Jordyn.”

“Quig. I know.” He kept walking. “You didn’t
have to do that."

“Yes, I did.”

Will stopped.

Momentum carried Jordyn a couple of steps
past him before she could turn around and continue the
conversation. “Have lunch with me.”

Will looked at her, bewildered. "What?"

"I'm asking you to have lunch with me."

"That was a question?"

"Sorry. Habit.” She cleared her throat.
"Would you like to have lunch with me today? How was that?"

“Better."

"So?"

"Uh, sure. Why not?”

“Good. See you.” Jordyn turned sharply and
continued on her way, leaving him standing in the corridor.

“I’m Will,” he called after her.

Jordyn wheeled back around and shot him a
sideways smile. “Emerson. I know."

Will walked down the stairs to the first
floor past the receiving dock to a door marked "Janitor" in peeling
black paint. He knocked and the door gave way.

"Professor Barrett?"

"William, how nice to see you." Barrett poked
his head around the door and pulled it open until it bumped against
a box on the floor. "I'm afraid the place is still a mess."

“Should I come back?”

"No, no, come in. Students are always welcome
here, such as it is."

Will entered the windowless room. It was
crammed full with a desk wedged into the corner against a utility
sink and already buried in papers and books, an old executive
chair, and a single bookshelf. Barrett pulled a card table chair
from the clutter, shoving away a box to make enough space to unfold
it for Will. “Please, have a seat.”

Will sat. "How did you end up in here?"

"No space. It's not so bad. Beggars can't be
choosers, right? Anyhow, they tell me they'll have the sink removed
and the door fixed sometime next week. If they hadn't contracted
out housekeeping I'd be sitting in the hall." Barrett did not
smile.

"When do you start teaching?"

"This afternoon, actually. I'll push in to
Philosophy for a couple of weeks. After that, I'll be in World
Cultures for the rest of the term teaching a section on religion.
Didn't I see your name on the roster?"

Will nodded.

"Now, William - or should I call you Mr.
Emerson - what can I do for you?"

"I just came by to say hello." The bell rang.
"Sorry, Professor. I have to get to class."

"Well then, you don't want to be late."
Barrett took a thick book off his desk and shelved it.

"I love that book. Too bad he doesn't write
anymore."

"You read Pritchard? Oh, right, your father.
You're in luck, then. I'll be using it for class."

"I actually met him once. I was eight or
nine. We had tea at the Albright. He and my father argued about the
provenance of some artifact. I can't even remember what it was. I
just wanted more biscuits. Dumb little kid. His work is
amazing."

"Indeed, it is."

The lunch line was already out the door of
the commons. Jordyn leaned against a wall in the corridor. Will
jogged toward her. She pointed to the wall clock. Five past
twelve.

Will shrugged. "Sorry. Habit."

"Not funny, Emerson." Jordyn brushed past
Will. She smelled like white bar soap, clean and comforting. "I'm
starving."

Jordyn grabbed a tray and got in line.
"Cheese and sausage pizza again? Haven't you people heard of
vegetables?"

"Welcome to the Midwest. Come with me." Will
led Jordyn past the pizza to a small cooler with pre-packaged
sandwiches and cheerful Jell-O cups. "Here, Quig. Turkey on wheat.
Looks like there's even a little lettuce." He took two, tossing one
at Jordyn. "Heads up." The sandwich nearly fell out of her hand,
held up in defense against the flying package. "I'll get some
water," said Will.

They paid the cashier and found a small table
in the corner of the room. Jordyn unwrapped her sandwich,
rearranging the floppy lettuce and a paper thin slice of tomato.
Will devoured half his lunch, carefully avoiding the bruised side
of his mouth.

"That looks painful," said Jordyn.

"I always eat like this."

"I'm serious."

"Me, too.” He winced when he tried to smile.
“It’s nothing. It’ll be gone in a few days. Are you going to eat
that?"

Jordyn re-assembled her sandwich, took a few
bites, and pushed it away. "It took a lot of courage to stand up to
Logan."

"I’m not so sure about that. Seems more like
stupidity now."

"You did the right thing. It’s too easy to go
along, to be who your friends want you to be."

"I wouldn't know."

Jordyn took a sip of water and screwed the
top back onto the bottle. "You're lucky," she said.

"You done?" he asked. Jordyn nodded. Will
cleared the table, then returned to his seat.

Jordyn leaned across the table and gently
touched Will's lip. "I'm sorry. I meant, for me, it can be hard to
separate who I am from everyone else's expectations. Sometimes I
think it would be easier to be alone."

"Alone." Will sat back in his seat.

"Sorry. Again. I . . ."

"No, it's okay. I understand. Sometimes it is
easier to be alone." Will stood. "It's almost time for fifth
period."

"Where are you going?"

"Third floor. World Cultures. You?"

"Same."

Will extended his hand. "Wouldn't want to be
late."

Jordyn smiled. "How is it?"

"World Cultures? You'll like it. Except for
the paper due next week."

"Next week!"

"Don’t worry, I'll help. Come on or we’ll be
late."

After class, the students poured out of the
room smelling of tzatziki and wiping powdered sugar off their faces
from the cookies they ate while Mrs. Lafayette discussed the finer
points of Greek civilization.

Will held the door for Jordyn. "What did I
tell you?"

"Cool. What's with you and food?" She gently
brushed a streak of white powder off Will's chin. "Still have no
idea what to do for this paper, though."

"Doing anything tomorrow after school?"

"I can clear my schedule. Library?"

"I was thinking my place."

"Really."

Will turned pink. "Uh, my father, he has a
lot of books. He does this for a living. I mean, he's an
archaeologist."

"I see."

"I'm sure the school library has something .
. ."