I have little idea how I survived that first week of Law school, or that first month for that matter, but I guess that's what you manage to do when you're that young. Life was changing, I wasn't home, I wasn't sheltered by my family anymore and yet, it all seemed so natural to me. I had to juggle between classes, homework, group study, and yes, I suppose eating and sleeping.

Funny how I didn't spend much time with the Law students except from group study which we had to do, much to my demise. But Mallorie would hang out at my place a lot and we would do homework together—it was a break for her too because she had to share a dorm room with two other girls back in campus, and I had a VCR so that's how I learned her favorite film was 'Breakfast Club.' Mine, as you know, was 'Say Anything' back then, so we would alternate between the two.

Nathan kept asking me to attend his baseball games and as much as I liked it, we all know how long those games can be. I went, but what I did was take my notes and like the nerd that I was, I read and revised whenever he wasn't pitching.

So in this new environment—having my own place, not subject to a curfew (other than the one I set myself), not having to hide from parents or siblings, it wasn't long until Nathan began spending the night at mine some nights a week and most weekends. We didn't always did what you would imagine because, quite frankly, we were usually so exhausted we just fell asleep. Sometimes he complained of pain in his shoulder and seemed worried, but it quickly went away.

We also mostly talked and listened to music. We were heavily into U2 back then, as we had just gone to see them and they were all over the place. He'd also brought his entire record collection taped into cassettes (for easy carrying) and we did exactly what we did in his room back home, lay together and listen to music. I believe that was when he began thinking, as an art man—yes, a jock, but an art man too, that maybe music was something he could do, if he set himself to it. "A cool bass player or something, like Adam Clayton."

Yes, there was making out and hooking up too, specially if we had drunk a bit. And when we were feeling really into each other and connected, we made love—there is a difference between that and hooking up, as you surely know. But we were never officially together. Nathan will tell you that we tried several times, but as I recall, it was only once, later on. I never allowed it—yes, it was always me. He'll also tell you that it was his fault for going after girls too much, and he did, but I never wanted to take that away from him and I didn't want to be just another of those girls, although he kept swearing to me that I never was. He actually had to go away a lot to play other campuses and he got back quick, but what I mean is that I wanted him to be free. Ultimately, I think we knew each other too much. We were extremely close and I did not want to lose that. Time would prove me right.

"So, we got word that next year some scouts from the Winter leagues in the Caribbean are coming," he mentioned casually one time as he rested his head on my lap, while listening to whatever the stereo was playing. "I'm gonna get picked, for sure."

His confidence back then was something else.

"Caribbean, where?" I asked.

"Dominican Republic... Probably Venezuela."

Wow.

"That's far."

"Also warm and beautiful." He grinned. "Closest thing we have to a beach here is... Newtown? It's probably gray and dull."

If only we'd known back then.

"For how long?"

"The league begins October. Ends around February if the team goes all the way to the Caribbean Series."

I sighed. "Okay."

That's a long time. And far.

"That's not until next year, though. But, you know, up from there is Major League Baseball."

Nathan was always so sure he would make it. That it was just a matter of time and hard work. We all believed it, even Rick, who claimed he 'knew a guy' (he always knew a guy) who could pull some strings and get him in. But I hadn't had my head on that thought until that moment. Life was happening.

We will eventually part, is the thought that never left my mind.

All in all, I liked that Nathan stayed over because we would drive to campus in his car the next morning. It was convenient anyway, having him drive me meant I didn't have to take the damn bus. He had a small Toyota Corolla from the 80s he'd gotten senior year of high school with the help of his family. He kept calling that car an 'American Classic' although it was a Japanese make.

One morning, Nathan wasn't with me and it was pissing down rain. I waited until the last minute for it to stop but it didn't, so I took a deep breath, took my heavy bag with those heavy books and an umbrella I knew would protect me little to nothing, and made my way out of the apartment figuring this wouldn't be the last time I would get drenched waiting for the bus so I might as well face it.

I was struggling to open my umbrella while holding the front door of the building and getting my leg wet, and before stepping out I hear someone sprinting downstairs. It was my neighbor, Mr. F., Alex, wearing a black trench coat with the neck up that made him look slimmer and even taller. I was a bit stunned, but I can't say I wasn't pleased to see him there. We had run into each other a few times in the building but I mostly saw him in class, where I made sure I would sit in the front row (as that first day) to, you know, get a better grasp of the class.

At that time I hadn't told anyone I was 'hot for teacher' because it was a bit embarrassing to admit, but I was.

"The bus? In this weather?"

He smiled. I died a little bit.

"I'll drive you."

I died a lot.

I mean, it was an emergency, and I was going to be late for his class, so, I obliged.

Soon enough, the morning bus became a distant nuisance. Either Nathan would drive me (only when he stayed over, because I had made clear to him from the beginning that I didn't want him to drive from his dorm on the other side of campus to my building and then back to campus-gas wasn't for free), or Alex would spot me leaving the building or walking to the bus stop and give me a ride. At the beginning I wasn't sure if a professor and a student arriving together to campus would be frowned upon if anyone noticed, but with time I looked forward to those rides so much I just didn't care.

And during those rides is when Alex and I got familiar with each other, although we only began calling each other by our first names until later on. He had some African music playing in his car—that album Mick Fleetwood made—and he told me how, after graduating and passing the exam he just went to Africa with a friend and spend about a year there, just hopping from place to place, from Egypt, then south of the Sahara, to the middle of the continent and so on. His friend was a photographer so they took pictures of animals and tribes, and... why? Just because. Also, Mr. F's family had money, so it's not like he had to have a job to make ends meet. I would see his eyes light up when he told me about lions, and how lions were more dangerous when they grew used to people because then they knew they could attack; instead, wild lions who'd never seen man would be scared of them, like feral cats run away from people.

Of course Alex would mention Rick from time to time and would tell me about his internship, which made me wonder if he just wanted to amuse me because I was Rick's stepdaughter and he wanted me to put a good word for him. But that's also how I learned that Alex had been a professional polo player for a while, and that he and Rick they used to talk about it. I remember Rick did take us to the polo several times-one of those things I thought rich, stuck-up people in Granville did (I didn't tell Alex that, I would much rather daydream about him riding a horse playing polo). He claimed that he loved it and that he played in England from a while, even against the Prince of Wales a couple of times. You would think he was bullshitting me but I did see the photos.

And it was during those rides to campus that Alex Fitzgerald became someone to look up to, or maybe more. I realized I wanted that too-perhaps not go to Africa or ride horses but to do something else. That it could be done.

Of course my crush on him was growing by the hour and it was getting hard to conceal, but I did feel comfortable around him.

I remember one specific conversation in his car. U2 was on the radio and I was so shocked to learn that he wasn't at their concert that I thought the whole of Capitol City had attended.

"I saw them back in the day with Joshua Tree. don't get what they're trying to do now, with those huge TVs and alter egos, they should just let the music speak for itself. Did you know some tribes in Africa sing for six hours straight?"

Sometimes the Africa thing got a bit old.

"Well, their song 'Where The Streets Have no Name' is about Africa."

"I know. And that is true, they have no names. I wish they would just keep doing that."

I shook my head.

"If you don't get Zoo TV I won't be the one to explain it to you."

It was, yet again, one of those things I thought out loud. Sounded disrespectful, but he didn't seem to mind. He chuckled.

"Right. Anyway, Peter Gabriel is touring soon."

I wasn't 100% sure if Peter Gabriel was cool or not. Nowadays I love his music, I mean, who doesn't, but at the time what I knew is that he sang 'In Your Eyes,' the main song featured in my favorite film 'Say Anything' but...

"Peter Gabriel? Prog rock? Stuff dads listen to."

My big mouth, striking again.

"Well," he chortled, "I am a dad."

Ah.

"I see," I replied without thinking.

Okay.

"Actually that's why I didn't go to that U2 show that night. I was spending the weekend with my son. He lives with his mother in Granville."

That's all he would say back then, but I put two and two together: he lived in Capitol, his son in Granville. He wasn't with his son's mother.

I stayed quiet for a while. I didn't know what to say. I had no idea why he felt so at ease telling me that, and I kept wondering, how old is he? He looked and sounded young, but I couldn't just ask him his age.

"Anyway, I only mentioned it because I heard Peter Gabriel is talking to the Zoo TV people to do the staging of his show."

"Would have to see it to believe it, Mr. F."

"Then you'll have to go and see it, Miss Morgan."

With you?

That last part I did think to myself.

Contrary to what some people think, I suspected Alex was married from the beginning. When we first began to get to know each other I noticed he wore a golden band around his ring finger in his right hand. I of course never asked if that was his wedding band, especially because he wore it in the opposite hand, but when I found out about his son and his son's mother I figured it was a wedding band that he wore in his other hand because he was left-handed, or because... it was complicated.

One day, because I was looking at him intently during class (excuse me, I paid attention—how do you think I was acing that class?) I realized he had stopped wearing the ring. When class was over he'd asked me to come speak to him at his desk.

"Miss Morgan, I was thinking of you."

"I beg your pardon?"

He what?

"You're too good for my class. Have you noticed?"

Yes, I had.

"Um, am I?"

"You could teach this class."

"Well, thank you, I don't—"

"How's your schedule?"

I took a deep breath.

"Packed."

"Would you be interested in helping me grade papers?"

It took me a minute to say something. Somehow, it all came back to me: the talks in his car, his sort of fondness towards me. My mind took a turn, although I was kind of suspecting it (as I mentioned above), but this had made it clear to me. I had to be firm.

"Mr F., is this because I'm Rick Morgan's daugh—stepdaughter? Because—"

"This is because you're good, Miss Morgan." He looked into my eyes and that was the first time I really saw his eyes. They weren't just light brown, they had specs of gold too. Almost honey colored. "Do you think so little of yourself?"

And suddenly, all those thoughts from before, vanished. I was no longer firm, I was shaking inside.

"Thank you. I—I suppose I can make some time."