Page 14 of In Too Long


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“So, I teach this class, but I’m also a psychotherapist, with a private practice here in Schoolport. I’m not a professor, so you can just call me Marlo, or Ms. London, if you’d rather. But really, Marlo’s fine. And yes, this is one of a list of general requirements for freshmen, but I want you to think beyond that. Don’t just think of this as a box to check before you get to the interesting stuff.”

There was some squirming in seats from kids who had just been tagged. Myself included.

“Participate. Listen. Ask questions. This is stuff that will serve you throughout life. When you have an asshole boss. When you’re in a relationship that is unhealthy. When you want to ask for more out of life but are not sure how. Or why. All of it comes back to what we’ll discuss here this semester.

“Basically, what makes us tick. What makes others tick. And how do we navigate it all to become the people we want to be?”

I can’t wait to meet the woman you’ll become, Megan.

My mom’s words as I’d prepared to leave Lincoln last fall passed through my mind, and I struggled to swallow the deep emotion that caught me off guard.

Damn. I hated when that happened. I was prepared for the low-hanging memory flashes—seeing mothers and daughters about our ages together, sappy commercials, holidays, stuff like that—but the zingers out of nowhere were killers.

Marlo continued on with class, and I eventually returned my attention to her. I liked the idea of seeing this woman every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon.

On Wednesday at our group lunch, Abby asked if anyone wanted to hit the library with her that night. Emily agreed but Chloe said she had something going. When eyes turned to me, I debated what to say, but then decided I didn’t want to be furtive every Wednesday, so I laid my cards on the table.

“Actually, I have to go to a thing on Wednesday nights,” I said.

“Class?” Abby asked.

“Kind of. I mean, I am getting class credit for it. But it’s not exactly a class.” Puzzled looks had me continuing, “It’s a study. I’m participating in a study, and we meet every Wednesday night for two hours.”

“Like a lab rat or something?” This from Chloe.

I took a deep breath. “It’s a study of the effects of grief on college students.”

There was silence at our table until Emily put her hand on my arm and gave a swift squeeze. “That’s great you’re doing that.”

I shrugged and slurped a spoonful of my clam chowder. “Well, I mean, I’m doing it a little under duress. It was something I agreed to in order for my dad and aunt to let me come back here instead of staying in Lincoln and going to school there.”

It had been a hard-fought battle for my overprotective father to agree to let me come back to Bribury. Of course, I didn’t need his permission, but he was paying my way, or most of it, so I’d made a deal with him that I’d do counseling through a support group for Bribury students, or at least in Schoolport. When doing my research, I found out about this study and that I would receive two credits (at no cost!) for doing something I’d already promised my dad I’d do. Win-win.

Plus, the credits were in the Sciences bucket, and I wasn’t looking forward to taking much in that vein, so this put a small check in that box. With that and the dreaded chemistry out of the way, I’d be able to breathe.

Win-win-win.

It was one of many compromises, but it was the big one that got me here. And he’d sent me several reminder texts about the first class being tonight.

Not that I was likely to forget—I’d been nervous about it ever since I’d clicked on the Enroll button.

“So, I’m out for Wednesday night shenanigans,” I said, trying to make it light, feeling like it was anything but.

“We’ll just have to shenan without you on Wednesdays. Plenty of other nights to shenan. It’s all about self-care,” Chloe said. Her eyes lost focus, and I figured she was probably thinking about a way to somehow incorporate my self-care into one of her posts.

“Off-limits,” I said, putting a finger up, like it made my point more significant.

She waved my warning away. “Of course. Goes without saying. I wasn’t thinking about that specifically.”

“But youwerethinking,” I said.

“Honey, that’s all I ever do,” she said, and smiled, and then we all dispersed for our afternoons.

Marlo wore another classically chic outfit that day, and she spoke about the id and the ego and all that stuff that needed to be covered before you got into the truly interesting and sicko parts of the human psyche.

I stayed on the side of campus furthest from my regular dining hall after my last class because it was close to the Student Union, where my grief study/class would meet later. In fact, I checked out the food court at the Union and ate a slice of Pizza Hut pizza (not nearly as good as the place in Schoolport, but not bad) while I read for my classes.

At ten to seven I walked into one of the meeting rooms on the second floor of the Union.