Page 73 of Solo

“What does it look like? It’s a present.”

“For who?”

“For you. Who else would it be for?” I laugh. She doesn’t.

“I can’t,” she says firmly, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t accept it.”

“Why not?” I ask, getting to my feet again.

“You know why,” she says softly. “You’re my professor. I’m your student.”

“How can you turn it down before you even know what it is?”

She shakes her head again. “No. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“You can,” I insist, pulling the unwieldy box from the bag then setting it on the bistro table.

“No.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“I don’t make anything difficult. Things just are difficult. Ironically enough, once I embraced that truth, things got a little less difficult.”

“Well that’s a bit jaded, isn’t it?” I accuse.

“I prefer to see it as being a realist.”

“Katherine, please open the box.”

“Drew…”

“When was the last time anyone gave you a present?”

She doesn’t respond.

“Katherine?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s been awhile.”

“How long?” I press.

“Years,” is all she’ll admit.

“You’re kidding me,” I say in disbelief. “No birthday presents?”

She shakes her head silently.

“Nothing when you graduated with your bachelor’s?”

This time she just looks down at the floor.

“Christmas? Katherine, tell me he at least sent you a Christmas card.”

But, clearly, she can’t tell me that. “Drew, you don’t understand. It’s just the way it is. This,” she says, gesturing to her modest surroundings, “this is my life. I’ve gotten used to being on my own and I like it.”

I feel my features softening. Hers, however, are going in the opposite direction.

“Stop it!” she says so harshly that I start.