“I’m so glad you have his support. And I’m proud of you, for being brave and following your dream.”
“Thank you. What about you? Have you talked to The Ward yet about the offer from Diggs?”
“I wanted to tell you first.” I smiled at Tim. “Both of you.”
He returned my look steadily, his expression hard to read in the dim light.
“You’re very quiet,” I said to him as we left.
“What do you want me to say?”
“ ‘Nice work’?” I quipped.
“Right. Very nice. Congratulations to both of you.”
“That’s it?”
He held the door open. “Good luck getting what you want.”
I stopped, stung. “You don’t think I can do it.”
“You can do anything.” His deep voice sounded almost irritated. “Your problem is you don’t know what you want.”
Thirty-one
I was wondering about the possibility of my working remotely this summer,” I said at my next meeting with Maeve.
Her heavy brows rose. “I don’t advise it. Most students find they benefit from the support network here.”
The sun slanted through the dirty office window, illuminating the dust on the filing cabinets. The thought of leaving Dublin—the campus, the library, my fellow students,Tim—made my heart ache. How could I even think of going now, when the college green buzzed with life and color and the sky was shot with rainbows? But Toni was gone. Reeti was going. I needed to move out of our flat sooner rather than later. I’d be stupid to turn down Oscar Diggs’s offer because of the weather. Or the timing. Or Tim.
“But under special circumstances...” I said. “I mean, during Covid...”
“Obviously, we all made adjustments during the pandemic,” Maeve said.
“And there’s always email, right? And Zoom.”
“I’m aware of the technology. I’m more concerned about your motivation.” She regarded me with sharp black eyes. “Are you sick?”
“Oh. No.” I explained about the opportunity with Shivery Tales. “Mr.Diggs—Oscar—said he’d mentor me. It would be like an internship. Paid.”
“I thought it was only Gray Kettering who was trolling for graduate students,” Maeve said in a dry tone. I couldn’t tell if she were joking or not. “Did you accept?”
“I’m considering it.” “You don’t need her approval,” Sam said in my head. “She’s not your mam.” But I wanted her guidance. “A steady job making up stories? It’s a dream career.” Why was I even hesitating?
Maeve made a noise like one of Aunt Em’s, neither assent nor disagreement. “What about your own work?”
“I’m making progress on my portfolio. By July—”
She held up her hand. “I’m not talking about your ability to complete your dissertation. I’m talking about abandoning your story to write for Oscar Diggs.”
“I can do both.” I was pretty sure.
“Unlikely,” Maeve said coolly. “Even if you have the discipline to allocate your time between two projects, it will be a struggle to develop your own voice if you’re being paid to mimic someone else.”
I’d come to her for answers. And now I had one. I knotted my fingers together. “You think I should say no.”
She leaned back in her chair. “Let me ask you something. Why did you come to Trinity?”
