“Thank you, Ms. Ellis. I’ll e-mail them. And thanks for the opportunity. I enjoyed meeting you.”
“Good luck to you, Sam. I’ll let you know what I think of your new submissions. Good-bye.”
It was a long shot, but I started to believe. Nothing comes easy, does it? After I hung up the phone, I quickly applied to theHighland Park Press, the Evanston Reviewand theLincoln Park Sentinel—all good papers. I have to stay in Chicago because I agreed to house-sit for the Muirs this summer while they’re abroad; I’ll leave the clamoring for internships at theMiami Herald, theLos Angeles Times,TheNew York Review, and tons of other great jobs to my classmates.
I’m glad for the house-sitting excuse because, quite frankly, I don’t think I could handle all those rejection letters. We’re constantly told that we’re the best at Medill and that the top tier is where “the best” work. But I’m not part of that elite. I’m the girl hanging by my fingernails off the back ledge.
After wallowing a bit, I donned my big-girl pants and headed north for dinner with the Muirs. Whining isn’t an option around the professor. He would say, “Why does this surprise you? Get out there and do what she says—build a body of work and impress the socks off her after graduation.” He’d make it sound so easy—much better to avoid the pep talk by faking equanimity.
The Muirs—and, surprise, Alex Powell—were the perfect company. Alex is in town doing advance work for his next book, set in Chicago. He’s even moving here for the summer. I felt sorry for him—he clearly expected to spend time with the Muirs and was visibly shocked to find they’ll be gone.
“I told you all this, son. You didn’t listen.” The professor laughed.
“I thought you said you were considering it. You never said you bought tickets and were leaving for two whole months.” Alex sounded frantic.
The professor smiled and softened his voice. “I’m sorry if I didn’t make it clear. I know you’re disappointed, but I need to finish this research, Alex. Paris and a few stops in Spain are the final pieces, and I can putThe Lost Generationto rest.”
“But this summer?”
“This summer. I don’t know how many years I’ve got left, and this is the last book I need to get out.”
Alex dropped his head. “You’re right; I wasn’t listening . . . but don’t say it’s your last.”
“Just my last book, son. Not my last summer with you. Bring Cole back next year and we’ll have a grand time.”
The room quieted. I wanted to give Alex some connection to them, so I offered up my house-sitting job. I hoped it would make him feel more secure. And it would save him from renting a place.
“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. I don’t want some man who doesn’t know wood polish from toilet cleaner living here. He’ll kill my plants, and the late charges on all the bills will drive Robert crazy.”
“Mrs. Muir, I’m sure Alex is more capable than that.”
“No mother would choose a son to watch her house over a daughter, Sam. You stay here.” She pulled her lips in, embarrassed.
Daughter?I shoved a cookie into my mouth to cover my jaw drop.Daughter?What a fleeting, lovely, unimaginable thought.
Alex cut through the moment. “She’s right. I don’t clean unless I move, Sam, and all my bills are direct pay—never even see them. I need to be downtown anyway. Cole would never live in such a sleepy suburb.” The last bit he threw to the professor.
“Sleepy suburb? I take offense at that, young man. I’ll have you know—”
They carried on from there as Mrs. Muir and I escaped to the kitchen with the platter. Alex found us there an hour later, finishing off the chocolate chip cookies.
“Want a ride south, Sam?”
“Aren’t you staying here? I can call a cab, or the Metra is well lit.”
“You don’t do that, do you? At night? Sam, I’m driving you home. I know Pops doesn’t let you do that.”
“He doesn’t. He always takes me home. But I’m fully capable.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“Alex.” Mrs. Muir stepped in.
“Sorry.” He held up his hands in surrender. “Not my business. Grab your coat. I’ll behave.” He kissed Mrs. Muir on her cheek. I followed suit and we headed for his car.
Alex raked his hands through his hair. “I’ve been a jerk all night. I didn’t know they were leaving.”
I suspected he wasn’t talking entirely to me.
