off campus, and he regularly got himself to the grocery store and the Laundromat. He went running every morning. When the weather was good, he played kickball with his friends. He and his roommate watched documentaries on the Civil War and bad reality shows. They watched the Spanish soap operas so often that they were actually picking up Spanish. And yet Tim had recently been invited to a dinner at the Alumni Center for maintaining a 4.0. He never would have told me this, but they mentioned it at the dinner, and he’d brought me as a guest.
“They’re doing a marathon tonight,” he said. I could hear dramatic Latin music in the background. “You should come over.”
“No puedo,” I said.
“Whoa. Whoa.” I clearly had his attention. “Seriously. No television. I’ll turn it off. But will you come over? I’ll come pick you up right now. Just get your toothbrush. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“I’m on duty.” The regret in my voice was sincere. I liked watching the Spanish soap operas, sitting with him on his big couch, my head on his shoulder. In the morning, his roommate sometimes went out and got doughnuts.
“This job,” he said. “This babysitting job of yours.”
I fell on my bed, the phone pinched by my shoulder. “You could come over here.”
I knew he wouldn’t. He didn’t like staying at the dorm. There was the security check-in to deal with, and the real possibility of a late-night fire drill. And if he had to pee in the middle of the night, he had a long walk to the nearest men’s bathroom, complete with a flight of stairs.
“Tomorrow night?”
I checked the calendar pinned to the bulletin board next to his picture. Thursday, like Wednesday, was blocked out with an unhappy face.
“On duty again.”
“You know I leave on Friday?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t leave.”
“But you could still come to Chicago with me.” His voice was quieter. He’d turned the television off, or maybe just moved away from it. “You wouldn’t have to come to the dinner. You could just drive up there with me. I’d show you around. When I’m at the dinner, you could go see a movie or something. Or study. I mean, you’re invited to the dinner, but if you don’t want to—”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to go. I said I would feel strange.” I sat up and pushed my hair behind my shoulders. “I mean, it’s a big deal. They probably just want it to be family.”
“It’s not that big a deal.”
“Being married for fifty years?”
“Lots of people do it. My grandparents are just out to get presents. And attention. They always want attention, those two.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I smiled. Tim had a picture of his grandparents in his room. They were both in wheelchairs, holding hands. “So what are you getting them?”
“I was going to pick something up on the way. What do you get for a fiftieth anniversary? I mean, it’s gold, right? But what do you get if you’re young and poor? I don’t know. Matching sweatshirts? I have no idea.”
I reached up to the top shelf of my closet and took out the plastic bucket that held my toothbrush, toothpaste, and soap. “That’s why you want me to go. You want me to pick out a present.”
“I want you to go because I want everyone to meet you.”
I was silent, looking out my dark window. I was so high up. If there really ever were a fire, I might not be able to get out.
“So…? How about it?”
I had never been to Chicago. And he would probably let me drive, at least some of the way. But I couldn’t go. I had to study. And this weekend, I would have Jimmy Liff’s car. I could drive as much as I wanted, anywhere I wanted to go.
Tim took my refusal with little grace.
“You’re house-sitting for that security guy? The one who used to wear those stupid contacts that made his eyes look like a cat’s?”
I frowned. I’d forgotten about the contacts. “Yeah. But that’s not the point. He’s not going to be there.”
“Huh. You know that Chinese tattoo on his arm? You know what it says?”
“I didn’t know you read Chinese, Tim.”
“I looked it up. It says, ‘I don’t know Chinese, either.’”
I stood up, sat back down. “You’ll come over tomorrow night? You’re my only hope. I’ll be trapped in the tower here. Come save me.”
He laughed a little. “Good night, lovely Veronica. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”