nudged her toward a photo station, where people could pose next to cutouts of players Eva didn’t recognize. “Come on,” she said. “It’ll be fun. My treat.”
Eva hesitated. She wasn’t the kind of person who had her picture taken, aside from school photos that no one ever bought. She couldn’t remember a time anyone had pointed a camera at her and said Smile. But Eva went along with it, a small part of her glad to have a souvenir.
Inside, they found their seats, Liz’s colleagues from the political science department greeting her warmly. There was Liz’s closest friend, Emily, and her partner, Bess, plus their department head, Vera. Eva took the seat on the end and let their conversation flow around her—gossip about who was getting grants and who wasn’t, who was getting published and who wasn’t. Complaining about who always burned popcorn in the office microwave.
To Eva, it was like getting a glimpse into the life she’d once dreamed she’d have herself. There had been a time, before everything went wrong, that she’d imagined herself a professor at Berkeley. Delivering lectures in Gilman Hall. Supervising graduate students. Striding across campus, smiling a greeting as students said Hey, Dr. James.
Eva felt a sharp stab of regret, surprising her after so many years of believing she’d made her peace with how things turned out. That was the funny thing about regret. It lived inside of you, shrinking down until you could almost believe it had vanished, only to have it spring up, fully formed, called forward by people who meant you no harm.
Eventually they turned their attention toward the game. Vera kept score, talking about player statistics and upcoming trades, while the rest of them debated whether spitting sunflower shells was any better than tobacco juice. Eva cheered when the Giants scored, drinking a beer and eating a hot dog. It was a slice of life Eva thought only existed in movies, this idea that everything could be so perfect—the grass, the sun, the players in their crisp white uniforms, hitting home runs over the fence and into San Francisco Bay, where a cluster of people with baseball gloves in kayaks waited to catch one of them.
Right before the sixth inning, Emily leaned over and said, “I’m so glad you could come today, Eva. Liz has been talking about you nonstop for weeks.”
A ripple of pleasure passed through Eva, but she offered her shyest smile, the one she reserved for bank tellers and police officers. “Thanks for inviting me,” she said.
Liz was quick to jump in. “I’ve seen a lot of brilliant minds in my time, but Eva’s is one of the sharpest I’ve ever encountered,” she said. “The other night, she nearly had me convinced Keynesian economics might be better than free market.”
Emily looked impressed. “That’s no small feat. Where did you go to college?”
Eva hesitated, imagining the questions they’d have if she said Berkeley. What was your major? Who were your professors? What year did you graduate? Do you know Dr. Fitzgerald? And how quickly one of them would discover the truth—an innocent comment at the faculty club, someone quietly recounting her story. The chemistry department was small, and people didn’t move on from Berkeley to better jobs elsewhere. There were probably several people still there who would remember her.
Luckily, Liz must have sensed her discomfort. “She studied chemistry at Stanford,” she said, giving Eva a tiny smile. “Try not to hold it against her.”
* * *
“You didn’t have to lie for me,” Eva said later, after they’d said goodbye and were strolling along the Embarcadero, making their way back to the BART station. The evening air was gentle on her skin, faint traces of the afternoon sun still present.
Liz waved her words away. “They’re all a bunch of aunties. They would have given you a ton of unwanted advice about going back to school and finishing your degree. It wouldn’t have mattered to them that you’re smart enough to have figured out how to do that if you wanted to.”
Eva thought about what was waiting for her on the other side of the bay. Certainly not the possibility of going back to college. That would never be an option for her. Until Liz came along, Eva had been happy. But now there was a hunger rumbling deep inside of her, a desire for more time with Liz and her friends. But not as a visitor passing through. She wanted to be a part of it, to live inside