The Best Possible Answer(61)

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you. Really. Not after everything you’ve been through.”

I grab her and hug her tight. “I’m really happy for Mrs. Woodley.”

She squeezes me back. “So am I.”

*

When I arrive at work the next day, it’s raining again. It’s still hot and humid, and it’s nothing like the storms of a few weeks ago, so while the pool isn’t empty, it’s not packed, either. Sammie’s in Morton Grove, registering for her new school, and I’m alone today, which doesn’t suck as bad as it used to.

I find Evan sitting at the front desk. He’s on break and deep in conversation with Professor Cox, who’s perched on the counter, spouting off philosophies about the world. “You want to know life’s incredible hoax?”

“Yes, Professor Cox,” Evan says with a laugh. “I most certainly do.”

“All of this—” Professor Cox sweeps his hands through the air. “Is an illusion. Don’t take it too seriously. If you do, you’ll just set yourself up for heartbreak. A lifetime of heartbreak.”

I take a seat next to Evan at my post. He doesn’t say anything, but he does nod at me and then he gives me a smile that seems genuine. Professor Cox is going on and on about “silence and light and connections made in the shadows of our beings.” Most of it doesn’t make sense. Some of it does.

Evan listens and nods and asks for definitions and clarifications while I check in visitors and sell bags of Cheetos to little kids.

“I told my parents about my major.”

I nearly slam the money drawer on my own hand. “What?”

“It’s why I wasn’t here last weekend. I told them.”

“Good for you, my lad,” Professor Cox says.

I shut the drawer. “How’d they take it?”

Evan looks at me and laughs. “They freaked out. Well, my dad did. He lost his temper and threatened to stop paying for my college.”

“It’s to be expected,” Professor Cox says. “You cannot live your life for them.”

“My dad started slurring his speech and we had to take him to the ER. Turns out he didn’t have another stroke, but he came close.”

“Oh my God,” I say.

“I stood up to him, though. By the end of the weekend, he came to terms with it. Well, mostly. My mom told him it wasn’t worth dying over, that it was just music. She also made me promise that I’d think about minoring in business so I don’t get screwed over by record companies.”

Professor Cox nods. “Mick Jagger studied at the London School of Economics.”

“That’s so random. How do you know this stuff?” Evan asks.

Professor Cox points to his head. “I have an exceptional brain with great capacities for retaining information, both useful and useless. It is a blessing and a curse.”

“I wish I had that kind of brain.”

“But you do.” Professor Cox smiles. “For music.”

“I’m glad for you,” I say.

“Thanks.” Evan looks at me. “I did it because of you.”

“What do you mean—”

“Evan!” Virgo yells from the deck before Evan can answer. “Can you come here! I think there’s a turd in the water.”

Evan smiles at me and then runs to the water.

Professor Cox looks at me. “It’s nice to see two people in love.”

“Oh, no.” I shake my head. “We’re not in love. Not at all.” I shuffle some papers. “Anyway, I thought you didn’t believe in love.”

“Romantic love, no. But there are many different kinds of love in this world. You can be intimate with someone and call it a friendship. You can be passionate with someone and call it a romantic relationship, which is the one I don’t believe in, since it’s the one that both occurs and fails the most. But if you combine intimacy and passion with the precious third material that involves honesty and trust—you can achieve a kind of love that is very rare in this world. I don’t know much about you and Mr. Whitlock, but I see that you are honest with each other. He trusts you.”

“He does?”

“You don’t see it?”

I look out toward the pool at Evan.

“Like I said, I have an exceptional brain, and I can tell you that with one hundred percent certainty, that boy loves you. Perhaps you might open your eyes so you can see it, too.”

*

The pool is shut down again early, this time for fear of contamination from “the fecal incident,” as Virgo is now calling it. The water is evacuated, and except for the few committed sunbathers, everyone leaves, including Professor Cox.

I stay at the front desk to let newcomers know that the pool is closed but that they are welcome to relax on deck. I’m met with groans and dirty looks, as though I’m the one who had diarrhea in the water.

“Thanks for staying,” Virgo says as he puts the lock on the gate for final closing.

“It’s no problem.”

“Am I locking you in, or locking you out?”

I look over at Evan. He’s stacking chairs against the wall. “I need to talk to Evan for a minute.”