“I don’t know,” Cart said, “but they did a shit job.” Then he rubbed his face with both hands and his eyes got bright and wet.
“Oh no,” Theo said, “I can’t handle two crying men in my hospital room in one day.”
“I’m not going to cry, you big cooz. I’m just really glad you’re ok. Christ, when I heard—” He broke off, and his adam’s apple bobbed.
After a moment, Theo said, “Well, I’m ok. I am.”
“Good.”
“Yeah.”
“No thanks to your jailbait.”
“Cart.”
“Ok, ok. I’m just saying, no thanks to your teenybopper.”
“You don’t have any idea what happened, Cart, so don’t get started. That’s my last warning.”
Cart rubbed his cheeks again, blinking his eyes clear. His smile this time wasn’t quite as crazy-ass, but it was still a Cart smile. “So are you going to date him or something? He’s pretty. I saw him around here a couple of times.”
“Nope,” Theo said. “I’m not talking to you about this.”
“I’m your friend, right? You can talk to me.”
“That’s not why you’re asking.”
“Come on,” Cart said, waving one hand. “That’s in the past. I’m just your buddy. I’m just asking if you’re going to date him. He likes you. More than likes you, I think. And he’s gorgeous.”
Theo made a noncommittal sound.
“Are you freaking out because of Ian?”
Theo shook his head. Then he said, “Christ, it’s barely been six months. How fucked up is that?”
For a while, neither of them said anything; Vanna was turning letters on Wheel of Fortune, smiling when Brittany from Biloxi got three E’s. Cart was wearing cologne, Theo realized. It smelled like the Drakkar Noir knock-off from CVS. It was kind of nice on Cart.
“You know what I think?” Cart said.
“I guess you’re going to tell me.”
Cart flashed him that grin again. “I think people are always telling us how we should feel and what we should feel, who we should love and when we should love. I guess I kind of think that’s bullshit now. You love somebody, and you just love him, and there’s nothing you can do to change it or explain it or make sense of it. You shouldn’t feel bad about that.”
Theo nodded.
“Besides,” Cart said, “you could fuck your way through a whole frat house and Ian still wouldn’t be as mad at you as he was that one time he caught you cheating on him with a donut. You know, when you both went gluten free.”
Theo gaped for a moment. “He told you?”
“Damn near divorced your dumb ass. Eating donuts while you thought he was at work. Theo Stratford, you are one stupid son of a bitch.”
“Yeah,” Theo said, smiling in spite of himself. He’d forgotten about the donuts. “Yeah, I am.”
Something changed in the air. Vanna was still turning letters—two L’s—and the man behind the tulip-print curtain was coughing up a lung, but now Cart was staring down, straightening his khakis, his heels bouncing.
“Hey Theo,” Cart said, looking up.
The door opened, and Dr. Kanaan, Theo’s adviser, stood there in a track suit and a hijab. She glanced at them and said, “I’m sorry, I’ll come back.”
“No,” Cart said. He took the flowers from Theo. “I should get these in some water. Be back in a bit.”
When he’d left, Dr. Kanaan took a seat.
“Theo, we’re all so glad you’re ok.”
“Thank you.”
“You are ok, aren’t you?”
“Yes. How are you?”
The question flustered her; she touched the hijab, stared at the foot of the bed. “Oh, I’m fine. Thank you. And you’re ok? How are you?”
“Still ok,” Theo said slowly.
“And do you have everything you need? Can the department do anything for you?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“That’s really wonderful,” she told the foot of the bed. “I’d say this is a miracle.”
“Dr. Kanaan, I think you came here for a reason.”
“Well, Theo, there’s no easy way to say this.”
He waited. He had no intention of making it any easier.
“After a lot of discussion,” Dr. Kanaan said, “we, the department, all of us, we really feel that you’ve had a difficult year.”
“I see,” Theo said. “It took a lot of discussion to figure that out?”
“And a video has surfaced of you with a . . . with a former student, I understand. So of course, if you have anything to say about that . . .”
“No,” Theo said. “I don’t have anything to say about that.”
“Well, extenuating circumstances, Theo. Everyone understands.” She risked a glance at him and then mumbled, “Because of the tragedy.”
“I think it’d be best if you told me whatever you came here to tell me,” Theo said. “I’ve had a long day.”
“Of course, of course. I just want you to understand—we just want you to understand—that this is for your own good. I really hope that’s clear. We care about you, Theo. We want what’s best for you.”
“Am I being kicked out of the program?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“Then what?”
“You’ve been under unusual strain, and—”
“You’re taking my classes.”
“The teaching requirement can impose a lot of undue stress,” Dr. Kanaan said. “It might be better to take a semester off. Or a few semesters.”
“I’m being blackballed from teaching, is that it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Because I kissed a former student.”
“Well, I really don’t know why you’re taking that tone, Theo. Yes, you kissed a former student. An eighteen-year-old. And then you were attacked in your home, and this same student was there. It’s . . . it’s not good, Theo, however you look at it.”
“He’s an adult.”
Dr. Kanaan tugged on her track suit.
“Nothing happened when he was my student.”
“That’s really not the point.”
“And because you’re worried about the department’s image or the school’s image or whatever you’re worried about, I’m getting cut off.”
“The teaching stipend—”
“And how am I supposed to pay my mortgage? How am I supposed to buy groceries? How am I supposed to get a job in five years, when my CV is totally blank?”
“You’re being dramatic, Theo. We’ll certainly look into other funding opportunities, of course, but you understand that the department and the college are still under financial
