The Season of Shay and Dane Read Free Page A

before I’m out of sight.
     
    *
* *
     
    The flight was
uneventful and fast, what I’ve come to rely on.
    Jenny was waiting as
promised to give me a ride home. She’s been the biggest help I’ve had since
getting into the graduate program. She’s one year ahead of me and in real time
that amounts to about ten years of good advice being passed down, including the
suggestion that I take a look at the vacant apartment in her building that was just
one level below hers—which I did.
    She came with me when I
signed my lease, and helped me and my parents unload the few furnishings that I
had. As far as apartments go it’s not anything special, but I’ve made it my own.
    “A studio flat ,”
Dad said as he walked through it, seeing if it had everything essential and working
that I might need. “Well, I think it’ll be just fine,” he offered as he reached
inside the refrigerator and adjusted the temperature.
    I thought it was
perfect.
    I didn’t care if the
bathroom sink was still that robin’s egg blue from the 70’s, or that there
wasn’t a real division for a bedroom, at least that way I could feel safe being
able to see from which corner any little sound came that I heard. I was just excited
at the thought of living on my own for the first time, even if it was just a
college apartment. And actually, it kind of reminded of our house from the
outside, and that made me feel even more comfortable.  You could tell that
there were many wealthy families wanting to live near Yale when it was built,
and those old, large houses eventually got dissected inside into many boarding
rooms—then in time, many small apartments. And if we were standing inside of my
house, my apartment would be in the same place as the dining room and about the
same size.
    It only took me about a
week to get it looking the way I wanted it to. It’s amazing what you can do
with a little frugal shopping to a nearly empty square.
    The walls had been
painted a milky cream color, which was a nice contrast to the beautiful crown
molding stained so dark it was nearly black, that lined the whole room; I just
needed to add some brightness to the space. I bought a pine daybed and covered it
with a light pink duvet with tiny rosettes scattered over it and put it below
the one large window that I had. The old fireplace, making me think that this
once was a bedroom or part of one, wasn’t useable anymore, but it was pretty
anyway I thought, and I set some large candles on the flat stones of its
opening. I hung eyelet curtains with a ruffled edge over the window above my
daybed, and the small one above the kitchen sink. Mom and dad gave me a quaint round
table and two chairs that they had stored in the attic. I found a light green
and white gingham tablecloth and bought a vase and flowers and arranged the
table in the middle of the room. A giant, soft, white rug spread between the
bed and table, nearly connecting them and covering the original, cold, well-worn
wooden floor—some new, fluffy towels and washcloths on a narrow stand in the
small bathroom, and I had made myself a home.
    Jenny couldn’t believe
how it looked, comparing it to hers; that she thought looked like the inside of
a high school locker.
    I was glad she was just
one floor above me. . . and every once and awhile I remind mom of that.
    “Shay! Over here!” she
calls over the crowd shuffling about, the wheels of their luggage rattling on
the concrete. I wave at her with my one free hand.
    “Thanks for coming to
get me. Have you been here long?” We walk over to luggage pickup, waiting for mine
to come around.
    “Nope. Just got here
about fifteen minutes before you did—and have I got a bulletin for you! Of all
people! Professor Dick-dick has a list of three labs he’s raving mad
about—and your name’s on the top! Your lab’s not ready. What gives?” She
reaches to help me yank my luggage off.
    “Great,” I muster,
envisioning his pitiless ascent on me in the morning. “I