But Of Course I Can

Another student took the stage, this one clearly having been to slam poetry nights before, as every stanza was full of emphasis and enthusiasm, in an almost theatrical way. As he went on about the Viet-Cong, Dia’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. Not everyone had what it took to be Allen Ginsberg, apparently. “All the poetry greats were or are alcoholics, I think this is the right way to consume the art,” she took a quick swig, exhaling a bit to dull the burn, “it makes it hurt less, too.” 

Diana shifted a bit in the vinyl seat, angling toward Meredith, her legs crossed. “Yes,” she nodded a bit, “backrow. I don’t think we’ve officially met, I’m Diana, or Dia somedays. You’re Meredith, right?” 

“Too right.”  Meredith nodded with mock solemnity.  “I wholeheartedly agree on both counts.”  She tilted back in her seat to study the ceiling in an attempt to tune out this late attempt at projected political activism, but the performance was simply too jarring to be ignored – the decent delivery damning the subpar writing further.  With a sigh, she tilted forward again, but angled slightly to match Diana when the other began speaking again, grateful for the distraction.

“No, I don’t think we have.”  Meredith smiled at the introduction, before confirming, “I am.”  If she was embarrassed at all that she hadn’t known Diana’s name despite Diana knowing hers, it didn’t show.  “So, the back row, huh.  Catch any interesting class secrets from back there?”

-

“Querida, we only have to wait for my friend to perform his poetry and then I promise to make this up to you with some wine.” Natalia pleads as she looks at her roommate. She was so happy that Meredith had decided to join her, instead of staying behind to be on her own. Natalia had worked so hard to ensure that her relationship with her roommate would be pleasant at least and now she’s working on them actually becoming best friends. A detail she’s keeping to herself since she doesn’t want to freak said roommate out. Natalia had a good feeling about it because even though they seemed like total opposites, they had more in common than not. Plus Meredith had the patience to not only deal with her shenanigans, but also kind enough to indulge in her sometimes questionable ideas. Case in point, attending a last minute poetry night event at Topped Off when Natalia wasn’t even performing and was only going to cheer on a guy she thought was cute. 

“Also this isn’t too bad, sure a lot of words are coming directly from a thesaurus but isn’t it so incredibly brave to stand in front of your peers and share such intimate thoughts?” Natalia leaned over to bump her shoulder against Meredith’s. “Still, did I ever tell you that you are the best roommate ever? Thank you for joining me.” 

“So brave.” Meredith echoed flatly and managed not too add a comment about how some people might benefit from a bit more cowardice.  At the very least, Meredith would have benefitted from theirs.  Still, Natalia seemed so pleased with her presence, and she only had to make it until her roommate’s friend performed, so Meredith huffed a sigh and settled further into her seat.

“I’m not sure you have before, no.”  And she wasn’t sure Natalia was doing so now for any reason other to appease her.  Meredith didn’t mind, but it wasn’t actually necessary.  Despite their sharp contrasts, or perhaps because of them, Meredith had been surprised to find she actually really did like her roommate.  Sure, Natalia frustrated her sometimes, but who didn’t?  The other woman was, Meredith would begrudgingly admit, a good influence in many ways. 

“And you’re welcome, though it might take more than some wine if there’s too many more people before him,” she added, but the faint half-smile it came with signaled she wasn’t actually serious or all that upset, just bored.

Poetry Night at Topped Off was not how Dan wanted to spend his Friday. He didn’t mind being at Topped Off on his evening off, but he was certainly glad he wasn’t working the event. Dan enjoyed his free time. Spending said free time listening to mediocre poetry was not a form of enjoyment for him. Unlike his misfortunate coworkers, Dan was grateful he could leave whenever he liked.

He tapped his foot impatiently under the table, how long had this kid been up there?

All of the participants were melding together and Dan could feel himself getting antsy. None of the poems were necessarily awful, but then again, none of them were good either. He didn’t even bother to clap as the young student left the stage. “I thought this was your idea,” Dan smirked, trying to hide his displeasure. “Alcohol does sound groovy though…” He cautiously looked around the cafe before turning back to Meredith, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I could get us some, you know? I just got that new record by The Zombies. We could go back to the dorms and drink-” He cleared his throat, stopping himself. Maybe Meredith wanted to stay? That could have been just an off-handed comment, she could be enjoying herself. “I mean, only if you wanted to, that is.”

She barely noticed him backtracking – the moment he’d proposed actually leaving Meredith had started reaching to find her purse beneath her seat.  As soon as she had it in hand, she popped back up and closed her free hand around his wrist, looking at him with something just on the line between feigned and true desperation.  “Get me out of here.”

And then she was up, flashing him a grin and barely waiting for a response before she tugged him from his own seat.  Had to be quick; it would be rude to leave during the middle of someone's reading, after all.  Nothing about the situation was actually as urgent as she was making it seem, but there was something fun about the exaggeration.  So much so that she actually ran the first few steps into the night air when they reached it.  “Never again.  If I ever suggest that again tell me no.  Okay?  Flat no.”

Laughing, she finally let go of him, crossing her arms and taking a moment to appreciate the slight cool that had followed the most recent summer storm, before looking at Dan again.  “So where to?”

Diana was, unexpectedly, enjoying her night. She spent most Saturdays at Topped Off, participating in the open mic opportunities. Tonight was different, however, a slam poetry night. She was nowhere near brave enough to go on stage and read something of her own but she liked hearing other’s, no matter how bad it was. Mostly, she admired the red-faced freshmen’s confidence as they read haikus about how girls in their intro to biology classes didn’t like them back. 

She could tell that the red head seated next to her, a girl she knew vaguely from French, was not entertained. “Wine would be nice,” she spoke softly, withdrawing a flask filled with whiskey bearing the Louisiana crest on it from her beaded bag and pushing it slowly across the round table to her, never making eye contact, “this might do though.” 

.

Meredith glanced down just briefly enough to see the flask, before directing her eyes forward again.  She took it carefully, lifting it to her face to sniff what was in it– eyebrows raising at the strong scent of hard liquor – before sipping gingerly, relishing the slight burn.  “Well someone came prepared.”  Tightening the cap back on, Meredith grinned, if not directly at the other girl than for her.  “Thank you very much.”

As she slid the flask back across the table, someone else began speaking into the microphone and the audiences attention coalesced back onto them, providing Meredith the opportunity to actually get a look at to whom she owed her gratitude.  Her face was familiar, though she couldn’t place a name to it.  Another moment to consider, and then applause rang out again, cueing Meredith to shift her gaze back to the stage once more.  “Advanced French, with Dom, right?”

In practice, she does not.

She’s not miserable at all; she just isn’t exactly enjoying herself.  The mostly freshmen who step up to read their work are courageous, she thinks, but not good poets.  Not yet.  With time, perhaps some of them will be, but at the moment, it is all too easy to tell exactly what was just covered in Lit 101, and their desire for depth and resonance comes across so much more clearly than any actual emotion.  Occasionally, someone better takes the stage with something more interesting, but not often enough to convince Meredith she wouldn’t be better off at home with a book and some form of alcohol.

The most recent brave soul steps off the stage in the corner and Meredith smiles and applauds and waits to make sure they aren’t looking in her direction before she turns to her companion and pouts, “This would be better with wine.”

Tearing his eyes away from the poetry book in his lap, Emmett glanced down at the watch on his wrist to check the time. Meredith was fifteen minutes late to meet him in the library, but was he surprised? No. Would he have been lying to himself if he said he was not expecting it? Yes. He glanced over his shoulder, scanning the room for any sign of her, but to no avail. He was only met with dirty looks from the librarians. They weren’t exactly fond of Emmett and Meredith, as the two of them tended to sneak in wine from time to time. Emmett smirks to himself as he turns back to his reading. Arguably, he was wasting time by reading poetry. The stack of academic reading that he was meant to finish by nights end sat to his left - untouched. Yet, Emmett continued to read and annotate, telling himself he would get to it in a moment.

Apparently, he must have gotten too engrossed because when Meredith finally showed, running up from behind, Emmett jumped, his heart now thundering in his chest. “Jesus, Mer. Are you trying to have me die of a heart attack on the floor of the library? Are you plotting with the librarians?” He huffs in annoyance, but quickly shrugs it off when he looks up to see the playful glint in Meredith’s eyes. He can’t hide that he is pleased to see her. “You’re late.” Emmett closes the poetry book and sets it aside. “Very funny. That book is my light reading. Everything else underneath it is what I really need to be studying.” He groans at this. “I can’t concentrate. Can we just get drunk instead? I think we should get drunk instead.”

“Meredith,” the futile reminder comes before half of a smile, “and how could I say no when they offered full overdue amnesty?”

She hums as she flips through the first few pages of the book, returning to her feigned suspicion.  “A likely story-” but she can’t keep the act up any longer when he suggests the change in plans.  “Already?” Meredith snaps the book closed as she leans against the arm of his chair.  He seemed to be concentrating just fine when she arrived – otherwise he would have heard her coming.  “Come on, it’s too early in the semester to be getting drunk at-” one hand darts and catches his wrist, holding it so she can read the time off his watch only to grimace slightly.  She really is late.  “Eight-fifteen on a Tuesday.  Imagine where we’ll be by midterms.” 

Pushing off Emmett’s chair, Meredith slouches easily into the one ninety degrees over.  She checks to make sure there are no librarians in immediate line of sight before kicking her feet up over the armrest.  “A little...mental lubricant might not be such a bad idea, though,” she amends with a genuine if slightly mischievous smile before her gaze falls back to the rest of the pile of books next to him.  “Did you bring anything to help with that, or will we have to go looking?”  Her grin flashes back to him, “and if you couldn’t concentrate, how ever did you pass the time waiting for me?”  The acknowledgement of her lateness isn’t anywhere near an apology, but it is perhaps a start.

“Just a lot on my mind I guess.” Eve was an extremely forgetful person. She had a tendency of forgetting where she’s put her things, where she’s going, appointments, etc. But she was never late, she’d arrive on-time, of course, but only after mentally abusing herself. 

Eve’s embarrassing collection of romance novels even disgusted herself. She was currently stuffing a copy of The Scarlet Letter into her pink wool cardigan. Eve hadn’t meant to bring this book, it wasn’t even started . “My course load is heavier than I imagined this year,” she paused, exhaling, “taking advanced classes doesn’t help either.” Eve muttered sheepishly, she knew she had taken on too much. “No, I meant to grab one of my Summa Theologica books.” Eve wanted to brush up on some theology before getting into the meat of her courses.

Meredith just managed to catch the mutter.  Advanced Classes...There it was!  She snapped into a slight finger gun aimed at the other girl.  “I saw you in Dupont, by König’s classroom, didn’t I.”  It wasn’t a question.  “Are you in the advanced class?  Because if we’re talking about books, that’s a spectacular list.”

Idly, she watched the other book pass completely out view, still curious about it, but decided not to press the issue.  Not right now anyway.  “Summa Theologica, huh?”  She wasn’t too familiar with the work itself, but she had come across enough Aquinas in her philosophy courses to have an idea of it.  “That’ll be an interesting counterpoint to the Voltaire.”  The statement wasn’t a challenge in any way, but it was an invitation, which Meredith delivered at the same time her intrigued gaze shifted back to the other girl’s face, curious to learn more about this new classmate.  

Dominick shrugged in response, perhaps accusations were not the best first impression. He already knew who this one was, as he did all his other students, but her name remained bold in his mind due to her last name. Locke. As he tried to figure out his students before meeting, he wondered if Meredith would live up to her namesake. Though they wouldn’t be studying John Locke due to him being English, they would study many of the French philosophers he’d run in circles with. If Meredith were as brilliant as him, perhaps this semester might actually be fun. Either that, or he’d mark her off as a try hard. For now, he would have to reserve judgement. 

“You’re right about that,” He grinned, standing to shake her hand. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to give her more respect than the students who had wandered in before her. “I am technically Dr. König, but that makes me feel old and a little too much like my father so Dom or Dominick is good. Another student called me Mr. K earlier, so I suppose that works too. Whatever suits your fancy.” He sat back down and gestured for her to sit in the chair in front of his desk. 

Ah, yes, the reading list. What was apparently on every student’s mind the night before class began. These students really did want a headstart, it seemed. “Somewhere around here, I do,” He ducked out of sight before emerging from underneath his desk, wielding the syllabus. “I keep moving the stack for some reason. Anyways, we’re starting with Candide by Voltaire, and then some Simone de Beauvoir, and then Foucault.” He followed her stare from around the classroom to the seedling that had been left out of the conversation. “Have you ever seen one before?” He asked, turning the plant around so its mouths were pointed toward her “I think they’re lovely.” 

Keu-nich.  Meredith filed the pronunciation away for later and let her lips quirk slightly at Mr. K – she had a good idea who that would have been – but for now “Dom it is then.  Pleasure to meet you.”  A touch informal, but Meredith appreciated the air of equality that came with the apparent first name basis.  She’d never much liked the professors who thought they were gods, or worse, God’s gift to students.

Satisfied with the handshake, and internally pleased that he’d actually stood to do so, Meredith took the offered seat, spine straight and legs crossed.  His rummaging earned the brief raise of a curious eyebrow, but her eyes lit up at the mention of Candide.  “I love Voltaire,” she flashed him a bright, genuine smile.  “He’s actually a solid part of the reason I take French.”  Beauvoir was also a promising choice.  She would have been happy to discuss the philosopher and the other readings further, but it seemed the professor- Dom had noticed her fascination with the plant.

“Not in person, no.”  Meredith eyed the red lining of the what she supposed would be the flowers, then the little needles around the edges that reminded her almost of eyelashes.  Or teeth.  Part of her was curious to test just how fast its reaction time was.  “They are,” in a sharp, captivating way.  Not pretty per say, but striking and vibrant.  Its appearance seemed almost to warn of something.  She considered it for another moment, before looking back to him, tone turning humorous again.  “Is it more like having a plant or a pet?”

Eve stuffed a couple more mouthfuls into her before setting the burger back down on the plate. Stirring the contents of her milkshake, turning up the strawberry chunks so they were easily accessible. She was perplexed by the other, she knew that she knew her, but then again she wasn’t so sure of much lately. “Oh!” Eve exclaimed, not intentionally, she had a bad habit of thinking out loud. She opened the button in the back of her bag and the novel fell onto her lap. At the same moment the girl turned around, startling Eve. “It’s not that I couldn’t remember,” Eve played down her emotions, “it’s that I was upset at myself for not being able to remember anything ever in my life.” Eve smiled her tight lipped smile, raising her brows. 

Looking down, Eve was horrified by the title of the book, more if the other saw the title of the book. She tried to put the book in her coat pocket, hopefully the other forgot about the book in the first place. “But it’s okay now, I remembered it’s at home, crisis adverted.” Jesting, hoping to change the topic.

“That does sound frustrating,” Meredith acknowledged, though she didn’t relate.  Forgetful wasn’t her style – except, apparently, when it came to placing the other’s face.  The third-year considered the other another moment.  On campus, certainly.  One of the academic buildings?  Just a brief pass in a busy hall – maybe more than one.  It would come to her soon enough.  There were more interesting things catching her attention now, anyway, like the attempted sleight of hand she’d just witnessed.

The book was at home.  Sure.  Definitely not the same novel that had just been pulled from Meredith’s view.  She nodded understandingly.  “Makes sense.  It’s easy to lose track of which books you do and don’t have with you sometimes – especially with how many they have us carrying around for classes these days, right?”  Her smile was only slightly exasperated; Meredith would never actually complain about too many books.  As if such a thing were possible.  Tilting her head, her eyes shifted to where the she imagined the apparently other book was hidden and her smile tilted ever so slightly conspiratorial.  “I take it that’s not the one you meant to grab?”

Eve’s head snapped upwards at the sound of another’s voice. Eve didn’t realize she was speaking literal words out of her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t think anyone could hear me.” Her face grew hot. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wendy come around the corner with her meal. She smiled meekly at the other girl while she was being served. “Thank you, Wendy.”

 Looking down and back up Eve cleared her throat, motioning towards her leather satchel. “Well, it’s just I don’t exactly remember what book it was…” She trailed off. “But I knew it was important.” Growing irritated, Eve grabbed her burger and took a massive bite, grease trailing down her hands. “Oh, yum.” Wiping her face on her sleeve she laughed, “No, but thank you for the offer.” Realizing how incredibly rude she was being she quickly set down her burger and used her napkin. “Sorry, I could eat a horse right about now.”

.

“I can see that,” Meredith chuckled, setting the fries back on her own table.  “By all means, don’t let me stop you.  Personally, I can’t stand when people keep me from eating.”  Slipping back down into the booth, Meredith returned to her own food – couldn’t let that shake melt – but rather than resume her reading, listened carefully for the sounds of eating behind to slow down.

After a few minutes, she popped back up, taking what remained of her shake with her.  Perched against the back of the booth, she didn’t announce herself right away this time, instead taking a contemplative sip and simply watching for a moment.  She really did seem familiar–had she seen her at the bookstore recently?  The library?

“So you can’t remember which book it is you can’t find?”  A quirked brow accompanied the lightly amused question.  “That’s quite a predicament.”

Dom was humming. For the first Monday that semester, he was in a good mood.Something about the thick humidity that he suffered day to day was intolerable but the Louisiana summer had relented and allowed a cool mist to hover over the town. Today, he was enjoying being alone in his office, the sun notably absent from its large windows. 

At present moment, he was neglecting a stack of papers he had yet to grade for a small Venus flytrap he was growing. Unlike the many he had at home, this one seemed to have an attitude. On days that he took special care in pruning and watering it, it seemed to glow, its pinks and greens becoming lighter. On all others, it would wilt, almost as if it were playing dead. Today was a good day for the plant, it seemed to have decided as Dom poured boiled water on it, anything with minerals was practically a death sentence. 

The plant’s attitude was not the only thing unusual about it. Dom had something of a green thumb which made everything he grew animated - his flowers opened and closed depending on who was in the room, his tomatoes would practically roll off the vine if he spoke ill of the progress they were making. The flytrap was no different, occasionally nipping at Dom’s fingers as they brushed over its leaves. 

As he stared absently at the plant, he became aware of a presence outside of his door. He listened to the person shift their weight from one leg to another before calling out to them.

“I know you’re there. This isn’t the easiest building to move around in silently.” He grinned, waiting for an answer. 

“Wasn’t hiding.  Just didn’t want to interrupt.”  Meredith strode through the door once she’d been acknowledged, smiling, but not looking at him just yet.  Instead she let her attention wander around the room, taking in the space, the details.  The Venus Flytrap earned a raised eyebrow and a moment of consideration unto itself when she finally did direct her gaze towards the desk at the front of the room.  Only after that did she raise her eyes to him.

“The new French professor, I presume?”  She didn’t say his name, hoping he would pronounce it for her himself, first.  If it had been French, she would have known how to read it, but despite his area of expertise, it hadn’t looked French.  Better to wait and save herself the potential misstep.  “I’m in your advanced class.  Meredith Locke.”

The hand offered with the introduction hovered just above the surface of his desk.  Meredith glanced down just enough as she moved to make sure she didn’t hit anything, before fixing her attention back in place.  “Do you have the reading list, yet?  I like to get my books early.”  Speaking of– again, her eyes wandered, looking for a bookshelf she could analyze, but once again, landing and lingering on the Venus Flytrap.  She knew a small bit about the plant – that it was carnivorous, that it was a somewhat odd choice for a French Professor to have in his classroom.  Pest control, perhaps?

After two years, it was easy enough to find him in their usual library spot.  It took a bit more effort to do that without him seeing her, though.  Rather than risk his notice as she got closer, Meredith, instead, ran the last few feet (there was good reason they stayed away from the circulation desk from which the librarians watched like judgemental hawks) and snatched the first book off the top of the pile next to him.

“This is for Advanced French, isn’t it?”  She knew it was, having just acquired her own copy.  “Is that even allowed Monsieur Le Parisien?”  Even though the line was delivered straight, with an incredulous eyebrow raise for emphasis, it was, of course, in jest – an exaggeration of some of the complaints heard from other classmates over the years.  After all, Emmett knew that Meredith had grown up with enough proximity to Quebec to be raised mostly bilingual herself.  Even if she hadn’t told him, her atrocious accent freshman year would have been a dead give away.

//open

Stressed was an understatement. It was the first week of the new semester and classes started tomorrow. She was unprepared, overwhelmed and fucking starving. Eve had planted herself in a back booth of Joe’s Diner. She plopped down on the vinyl chair and tossed her bag onto the table and huffed.

“Thanks, Wendy.” She nodded as the waitress filled her glass with water.“ What can I get you, sugar?” Her thick bayou accent had a comforting energy. 

“I’ll get the cheeseburger platter and a strawberry milkshake, please.”

The short red head jotted down quickly in her notepad and hurried off. Eve rummaged through her bookbag haphazardly and chaotically, clearly growing frustrated with herself. 

“Where is that damn BOOK!?”

Meredith had missed Joe’s.  Sure, they had burgers and ice cream in Maine but it wasn’t the same.  Here, when she told Wendy, whichever Wendy, to make her malt as chocolatey as humanly possible, she actually knew what Meredith meant.  Not a trace of white visible as she used one hand to dip her fries in the frozen treat, leaving the other clean to turn pages.  The noise she made at her first bite was only slightly embarrassing.

And quiet enough to hear the exclamation from behind her.

“Couldn’t tell you – what’s it look like?”  Meredith popped herself up on her knees, to look over the boundary of the booth at the stressed girl sitting on the other side.  Of course, the question was meant to be rhetorical, but Meredith was feeling chatty.  She considered the other’s slightly familiar, frantic appearance for a moment grabbing the greasy basket from beside her own book – with the designated hand of course – and holding it out over the divider.  “Fries?”