She handed him his sandwich, the melted cheese dribbling deliciously onto the plate.
“You may want to let this cool for a moment,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She headed to the door leading upstairs. Ethan stepped down from the stool and took a proper look around the room. He was drawn to the fireplace’s mantel, where there was a collection of framed pictures; many were black-and-white photographs of people he imagined were Hannah’s relatives. There were two pictures of a boy (one on a street corner; another in what looked like a forest), perhaps a few years younger than he was, in small silver frames. Strangely, they were the only photographs in color. He wondered who the boy was, what he was doing on Hannah’s mantelpiece.
As he heard her coming downstairs again, he quickly went back to the counter and started eating his sandwich.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Hannah asked him as she entered the room.
He shook his head as he analyzed the taste of the ham and the cheese and the Dijon mustard, tangy in his mouth.
“I want to have children so badly. Bundles and bundles of them. Couldn’t you see kids running around this house?”
Ethan carefully wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin. “I guess so.” He didn’t understand why Hannah was speaking to him so intimately when he barely knew her.
“So,” she said, leaning forward, “I can tell you’re not like the other guys here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re smarter, more serious.”
He faltered, unsure of what to say. The idea that this woman whom he barely knew could so quickly dissect his personality was terrifying.
“Don’t be upset about it,” she said, patting his arm. “If it weren’t for students like you, I don’t know what I’d do. After a while, you realize this school just churns kids out like a machine. I want so much for you guys to experience things, but there’s only so much time in the day. You know a faculty member actually said that to me once? ‘We have to tire out the kids enough each day so they don’t get into trouble at night.’ Isn’t that the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard?”
Ethan nodded, appreciative of her candor.
“The school just wants its students to learn enough so they can get into college, and so their parents keep paying the tuition. But I probably shouldn’t be prattling on about such things.”
“Don’t worry about it—it’s not like I have anyone to tell.”
Hannah smiled. “It must be difficult, coming all the way from the West Coast.”
“I guess so,” Ethan said. “I do miss my parents.” He paused. “It just seems—this is going to sound weird, but I guess I was raised differently from a lot of the kids here. I didn’t grow up with as much money. Or at least, what my parents do have, they don’t spend on the same things.” Ethan took another bite of his sandwich, and felt a sense of relief. Since his arrival at Berkley, it was the first time he had admitted this to anyone.
Hannah started cleaning the kitchen, putting the soup into a plastic container and wiping down the countertops.
“So you could use some more cash?” she said, from over her shoulder.
He cringed at the boldness of her statement. “I guess.”
She turned around, pink sponge in hand. “Why don’t you come work for me?”
“Doing what?”
“See all those books?” Hannah pointed to the library on the far wall of her living room. “They need to be organized. There are even more in my study. I can pay you, say, eight dollars an hour?”
“I don’t know,” Ethan said. “I’m pretty busy with everything.”
“You don’t play a sport, right? So you’ve got Wednesday and Saturday afternoons off.”
It made him uncomfortable that she knew his schedule; then again, it was public knowledge, available on the athletic bulletin boards outside the dining hall. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course,” she said, pausing to brush a crumb off her sleeve. “Take as much time as you need.” She flashed him a quick, soft smile. “You know, it would be great to have you. I could really use a guy around here.”
Todd was sitting alone in his room that night, stoned, when he heard a knock at the door. His eyes darted around the room as he made sure there was no incriminating evidence: no bong, no lighters, no stash. Any number of people could come knocking at this hour—his adviser, his corridor master, one of his teachers. And Berkley’s no-chance policy was clear: get caught with drugs, and you would be expelled.
“Come in,” he said, attempting to modulate his voice so he sounded clearheaded.
The door opened and Ethan stuck his head in.
“Jesus Christ, Whitley, I told you not to knock! Only faculty knocks on doors. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” Ethan said, shrugging.
Todd could feel Ethan looking around the room, his eyes running over the liquor ads he had tacked up on one wall and the batik tapestry on another. As Todd lay back on his bed, Ethan started chattering on about some kind of job for Hannah. Todd found his attention wandering. He examined some stubble on Ethan’s chin, a dark spot he had missed shaving. Todd thought about how he only had to shave once a week; even then his whiskers only sprouted in pale blond patches.
Ethan poked him. “Are you high? You seem totally out of it.”
“Yeah, sure, you want some?” Todd giggled.
“I’m okay,” Ethan said.
“I got plenty. And I can get more from Laura.”
“That girl at the tearoom? You shouldn’t be buying from her. The lady who owns the place could get in a lot of trouble.”
Typical. Todd couldn’t understand why Ethan was so concerned about propriety, about rules. He narrowed his eyes at his friend. “What do you care?”
“I just think you’re taking a big risk,” Ethan said.
“Isn’t that what life is all about?” Todd asked. “Taking risks?”
“I don’t know,” Ethan said. “It doesn’t seem worth it.”
Todd swung his legs around and sat on the edge of his bed. “At least come have a cigarette with me.”
“I don’t smoke.”
“Just try it.”
Todd led Ethan down the hall to the bathroom. He opened the window a crack and sat on the tiled sill near the showers, expertly pulling out two cigarettes from his pack, lighting them both, and handing one to Ethan.
Ethan took a puff and attempted to exhale, the smoke sputtering out of his mouth in ridiculous clouds.
“Next time, we’ll do the real stuff,” Todd said. He felt a shiver as he thought about getting stoned with Ethan. What would he be like if he were high? Todd imagined Ethan stoned as a more advanced version of him, a relaxed Ethan, an Ethan who would open up to him.
“I don’t do drugs,” he said.
“That’ll change soon.”
Ethan looked at him, clearly worried, his long eyelashes fluttering slightly.
“Relax. Don’t you want to experience more in life?” Todd asked.
“Why does experiencing