Red Leaves

Jim shook his head. ‘No. Not in the morning. Not last night.’

Kristina tried to suppress a sigh, but it escaped anyway between her dry and tense lips. ‘Oh, yeah, last night. I went to Red Leaves House last night.’

‘Red Leaves, huh?’ said Jim. ‘How often do they make you work Saturday nights?’

Red Leaves was a home for pregnant teenagers where Kristina had done work-study since her freshman year.

‘They usually don’t. But Evelyn - you know -’

‘Yeah, I know of Evelyn. What about her?’

‘She’s real pregnant -’

‘Oh?’ said Jim. ‘That’s not unusual for Red Leaves House, is it?’

‘And depressed,’ continued Kristina nearly without stopping. ‘She needed me, so I-I stayed over.’

‘Stayed overnight?’

‘Sure. I’ve stayed overnight there before.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’

His tone was still skeptical, but relief showed on his face. Kristina laughed and said, ‘God, you look like I just told you you won the lottery.’ She ruffled his hair without breaking her stride.

‘No,’ he said, his face becoming impassive. ‘This is much better.’

Kristina was almost shaking with anxiety. Thank God they were walking and Jim couldn’t see her legs trembling. She took his hand. They were just past Baker Library and near Tuck Mall, down which they all lived. She wanted Jim to leave her there and not follow her to Main Street.

‘You’re cold,’ Jim said.

‘No, why do you say that?’ Kristina said, taking her hand away and wiping sweat off her face again. ‘I’m like hot lava.’

‘Your legs, they’re twitching.’

Kristina was wearing black spandex shorts and a Dartmouth-green T-shirt. ‘You’re right, I’m freezing,’ she said.

Eyeing her carefully, Jim said, ‘Hey. What’s going on with you?’

‘Nothing,’ she said quickly, smiling as widely as possible. ‘Nothing at all.’

She saw that he didn’t believe her, his suspicious expression deepening. ‘Come on, have lunch with me,’ Jim said.

‘Can’t, Jimbo, sorry. Gotta do the work before Thanksgiving. Have way too much stuff to do.’

Sighing, he said, ‘Oh, well, I’ll come with you to the office then. I’ve got some work to do there myself.’ Jim was the editor of the Dartmouth Review.

‘Oh, God!’ Kristina exclaimed. She was at the end of her rope. ‘Jim, please! I just need a couple of hours. I just need to think and sit, and just be alone to put together my thoughts. Okay?’

He stopped walking, and she stopped with him but continued to walk in place.

‘Will I see you later?’ he said.

‘Jimbo,’ Kristina said, mustering a tone of tenderness. Mixed with her frustration and anxiety, his nickname came out quick and husky, caressed and spit out at the same time. She cleared her throat. ‘Jim, of course you will. We’re studying at four, remember? I’ve got basketball practice at two. I’ll see you, okay?’

‘Why don’t you just move in to Leede Arena?’ Jim said grumpily. ‘You’re always there.’

‘Jimmy, I have to go to practice. You know that. I didn’t become All-Ivy on talent alone.’ She grinned.

‘Is your work suffering?’ His tone was still sour.

‘Well, I’m not making Dean’s List this semester, if that’s what you’re asking.’

He nodded, and then almost as an afterthought said, ‘You know, I looked everywhere for you last night. Everywhere.’

She didn’t say anything, and he continued, ‘Even in the library stacks.’

Reaching out, Kristina touched his face. ‘I’m sorry. I should’ve told you I was at Red Leaves.’

‘I wish you would’ve. I couldn’t fall asleep till, like, one. Kept calling your room.’

‘One, huh?’ Kristina managed a smile. ‘That’s about two hours past your bedtime, isn’t it?’

‘Ha-ha,’ said Jim.

‘Gotta go, Jim,’ Kristina breathed out. ‘I’ll see you later.’

He leaned over and kissed her, and she kissed him back and walked away, stepping up her pace until she was running. The laces on her torn Adidas were loose, and Kristina stopped for a second to tie them, dropping the backpack she was carrying. She ran from McNutt Hall to Collis Café before she noticed. She ran back, picked it up, and sprinted under the Dartmouth-green awnings of Main Street straight toward Peter Christian’s, the basement joint.

Oh dear, here we go, Kristina thought, as she took three deep breaths and stepped inside the darkened restaurant.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ Kristina said, plopping herself down across from Howard, who smiled politely.

‘This is not too bad,’ he said, speaking precisely and slowly, looking at his watch. ‘It is only fifteen minutes.’ He put two sugars into her coffee and added some milk. As always Kristina thought it was strange and incongruous to hear him speak such perfect English. She leaned over to kiss him.

‘Why are you so wet?’ he asked, wiping his cheek.

‘We were playing basketball. I get all sweaty.’ She smiled, taking a napkin and running it over her face. Howard just looked at her.

Kristina took a sip of coffee and grimaced. ‘The coffee is cold,’ she said, putting her cup down. She didn’t want Howard to see her fingers trembling.

‘You sound like you have a cold,’ he said.

‘Howard.’ Kristina was amused. ‘Are you making a play on words?’

‘Why are you surprised by that? I do have a sense of humor,’ he said seriously.

‘I know you do, Howard,’ said Kristina, gently patting his arm from across the wooden table. ‘I know you do.’