I set my cello down, leaned over the counter, and shook his hand. He held my hand in his for a few seconds, inspecting it. “Small and delicate for a cellist, but strong, I can see.”
“Yes. Grace needs a new bow, and I’d like for her to have the best.”
“Sure, sure, I have something that would fit her perfectly.” He went into the back room and came out with the most beautiful bow I had ever seen. He handed it to me, and the soft wood at the base felt like butter between my fingers. “Wow, this is so smooth.”
“It’s brazilwood and real silver, made with the finest horse hair,” Dan said. Orvin nodded. A moment later, Dan pulled his checkbook out of his back pocket, looked over to Orvin, and arched his eyebrows.
“Eleven,” Orvin said.
“Eleven what?” I said, my voice rising.
Neither answered me. “Be right back,” Orvin said, heading into the back room and returning a moment later with the bow wrapped up.
Dan handed him a check, took the bow, and looked over at me. “Ready?”
I shot him my best hairy eyeball. “You’re kidding me, right? You just bought me an eleven-hundred-dollar bow?”
“Consider it an investment. Come on.”
Once outside, he tried to hand me the bow wrapped in paper.
“Really, Dan, I can’t accept this. I seriously cannot pay you back. I barely have enough money to eat.”
“Then let me take you to dinner,” he said, instantly.
I starred up at him, blinking my eyes, while he waited for my answer.
“I . . .”
“It’s not a date, Grace.”
“It feels like a date.” I was hesitant to agree; I still wasn’t sure what Dan wanted from me.
“It’s just a meal. We can talk about the orchestra I’m forming this summer. I was thinking I’d like you to be a part of it.”
“Okay. Um . . .”
“Come on. Please?”
My college music professor was begging to take me to dinner. I looked around for other signs that I had been transported to an alternate universe.
“What time?”
“I’ll come by Senior House at seven. You like Thai food?”
“Sure.”
“There’s a place about two blocks away from your dorm. It’s pretty good.”
“I know the place. I’ll meet you there.” The restaurant was right across from the photo store Matt had just started working at. I hoped we wouldn’t see him.
By the time I got back to Senior House it was freezing out. I scurried through the lobby and up to my room and practiced for a few hours with my new bow. It was amazing how much it changed the quality of the sound. It amplified the music even more, filling the room with crisp notes.
By six o’clock I was starving, and frankly looking forward to dinner with Pornsake, even though I knew it would be uncomfortable. My plan was to eat the crap out of the free meal and try to keep the conversation light. I chose purple wool leggings and a long gray sweater with boots. I pinned my hair up into a bun on the top of my head and then wrapped a thick black scarf around my neck. I added a tiny bit of mascara and lip gloss for good form and then smoked a half a joint, against my better judgment. I thought dinner with my music professor warranted a little chemical mind alteration. I trotted down the stairs and into the lounge, where I made a cup of hot chocolate.
Carey Carmichael and Jason Wheeler, two students who lived on my floor, were sitting on the leather sofa, whispering to each other.
“Hey, Grace, where’s Matt?” Carey asked.
I fumbled through the stack of magazines on the console table behind the couch. “I think he’s in the darkroom at school, developing prints.”
I noticed Carey shoot Jason a questioning look.
Jason turned around to face me. “So, are you guys dating or what?”
Not this again. “We’re friends,” I said, cautiously. “Why?”
“Oh, good,” Carey said, laughing. “We thought you guys were together-together.”
“What if we were?” And why does anyone care?
“But you’re not,” Carey said. I shot her daggers. I’d never noticed she looked like the female version of Danny Bonaduce.
“What if we were?” I said again, trying to be nonchalant.
“The whole world knows that it’s just a big party on Fridays in the campus photo lab. Everyone sneaks booze in and they all fuck each other in the film-processing rooms. It’s like a giant celluloid orgy.”
My mouth dropped open. Matt had been going to the dark rooms every Friday night, and he always came back a little drunk and stoned.
“Not like an orgy,” Carey said, seeing my expression. “Everyone just goofs off. You know how tight those photo-
graphy students are. There’re rumors that people do it in the private dark rooms.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. Matt hadn’t mentioned anything like that to me. I also didn’t know why I cared. It was his life, and I wasn’t in a position to tell him what to do.
“Carey,” Jason said, looking pointedly at her. “I’m sure Matt’s not just developing prints in there.”
I felt gut-punched. “Fuck you, Jason.”
“What’s your problem, Grace? You a goody-fucking-two-shoes or something?”
“Nothing.” I looked at the clock. It was almost seven. “I have to go.”
9. Why Didn’t We Tell Each Other?