The Heart Has Its Reasons Read Free Page B

clean—overlooking the campus. There was a desk with an old computer and a heavy telephone supported by two sturdy outdated telephone books. Relics from other times and other hands; decrepit surplus that no one wanted any longer. We’d get along well, I thought. After all, we were both in a state of depreciation.
    â€œIt’s important that you know how to find Fanny Stern: she’ll bein charge of supplying you with any materials you may need,” Rebecca announced, making way for me to navigate the turn that led into Fanny’s working space.
    On sticking my head in Fanny’s cubicle, I was overcome by a feeling of confusion but one that existed somewhere between tenderness and hilarity. There was not an inch of empty space on the walls, which were covered with playbills, calendars, posters of sunsets among snowy mountaintops, and sugary, optimistic messages like Don’t lose heart, you can make it; The sun always shines after a storm; and There’s always a helping hand nearby. In the middle of all this, beatific and absent, sat Fanny, gobbling up a white chocolate bar as greedily as a five-year-old.
    Before Fanny managed to finish swallowing and greet us, Rebecca went over to her and stood behind her. Holding Fanny by the shoulders, she gave her an affectionate squeeze.
    â€œFanny, you already know Professor Perea, our visiting researcher, and you know what office we’ve assigned her, right? Remember that you must help her with everything she asks for, okay?”
    â€œSure, Mrs. Cullen,” she answered with a full mouth. To emphasize her willingness, she nodded several times vigorously.
    â€œFanny is very eager and a hard worker. Her mother was also part of this department for decades.” Rebecca spoke slowly, as if carefully choosing her words. “Darla Stern worked here many years, and for a while she held the position that I later took over. How is your mother, Fanny?” she asked.
    â€œMother is very well, Mrs. Cullen, thank you,” Fanny replied, nodding once more as she swallowed.
    â€œGive her my regards. And now we’re off: I must show Professor Perea the storeroom,” she concluded.
    When we left, Fanny was again sinking her teeth into the chocolate bar, surrounded by her blissful posters and perhaps even some devil lurking somewhere in a drawer.
    â€œBefore retiring from the dean’s office about four years ago, her mother saw to it that Fanny remained in the department as a kind of inheritance,” Rebecca explained with no trace of irony. “She doesn’t have a great many tasks, because, as you may have noticed, her abilitiesare somewhat limited. But her responsibilities are well-defined and she manages reasonably well: she hands out the mail, is in charge of making photocopies, organizes supplies, and carries out small errands. She’s an essential part of this house. And she can be counted on whenever you need her.”
    A labyrinth of hallways and stairs took us to a remote section of the basement. Rebecca, in front, moved about with the familiarity of someone who had trod these floors for ages. I, behind, tried in vain to commit to memory all the twists and turns, anticipating how often I’d get lost before finding my way around. Meanwhile, Rebecca reeled off some facts about the university. More than fourteen thousand students, she said, almost all from out of town. Initially it was a college and eventually evolved into its present-day status of small, somewhat prestigious university. She mentioned that it currently created the most jobs and the greatest revenue of any institution in the community.
    We reached a narrow hallway flanked by metallic doors.
    â€œAnd this, Blanca, is your storeroom,” she announced, turning the key in one of the locks. When she finally opened it, with some difficulty, she flipped several switches on and the fluorescent lights sputtered to life, blinding us.
    I saw before me a long,