Summer Sons(14)

The first course, his introduction, was slow and full of other first-term students. The professor didn’t give any indication of knowing him by name or reputation, for which he was almost painfully grateful, and so he passed the time scribbling nonsense in his notebook and watching his classmates attempt to get a feel for each other. The cohort system seemed to be strongly encouraged, but he didn’t see much of a point in learning these people; they hadn’t been here with Eddie. None of them had anything to offer him. The second course, an hour later, was a literature seminar. When Andrew entered the room, three people were already there: two white women and a Black man, who was sitting on top of a desk near the front with his feet on the chair. He was smiling at his classmates, a blonde and a redhead, and the tail end of his sentence was, “… so I’m hoping the break went better for you guys.”

The whole group turned to the sound when Andrew dropped his bag on a desk and slid into the chair. The man wore translucent silver acetate glasses that stood in handsome relief against his brown skin; his meticulously edged fade paired with short locs swept to the left on top. Andrew recognized the clean-shaven, aggressively square line of his jaw and polite smile from Eddie’s photographic semi-essays on his life at Vanderbilt: the peer mentor, West.

The man lifted a hand in a desultory wave and said, “Hi, stranger.”

“Hey,” he said, unsure how to continue.

“This is Amy and this is Michelle.” He nodded to the respective women.

“I’m a second-year, master’s track,” Amy said.

Michelle offered, “Second-year Ph.D.”

“Good to meet you. I’m Andrew Blur.”

Recognition dawned over the man’s face and widened his eyes. He said, “I’m Thom West, sixth-year Ph.D.—”

Andrew cut him off. “Eddie’s friend, yeah. Thought I recognized you.”

“His peer mentor, and yours too. I didn’t see you at the orientation, I wasn’t sure if you’d come or deferred to spring.” West bit his lip after he spoke, wincing at the implications of bringing up deferral. The two women watched with imperfectly concealed curiosity and pity. When Andrew didn’t speak, he continued. “I ended up assigned to you both, thanks to our shared areas of interest. American Studies, research base in cultures of the Appalachian South, right?”

Eddie’s Southern gothics. Andrew pursed his mouth. “I’m not so sure.”

“Yeah, that’s fair, totally. There’s time to decide later. But we should trade numbers—I sent you a couple emails last week about setting up our first official meeting.”

“Hadn’t checked it,” he said.

“I gathered,” West said with the slightest edge of a grin, attempting to draw him out. “It’s my job to get you acquainted with campus, the faculty, the process, all that stuff, so we should definitely set that up sooner rather than later.”

Thom West had known Eddie too. Andrew racked his brain for more memories of the man in passing, and thought Eddie had mentioned a once-per-week beer meeting. More people had filed into the room while they spoke, taking seats in fits and starts, and some of them seemed to know each other. Conversations sprang up like small mushrooms after rain.

“Give me your number,” Andrew said.

West hopped off of his desk, the pressed creases of his heather-grey slacks pulling tight over his thighs, and took a seat sideways in the desk next to Andrew’s. “Here.” He offered his phone. “Just put it in.”

Andrew tapped the screen a few times, saved the contact, and handed it over. West immediately placed a call, and Andrew held up his phone to show it ringing. Satisfied, West nudged the toe of his leather boot against the side of Andrew’s battered high-tops.

“Thanks,” he said. “We should’ve met already, so, we could get something to eat after class lets out? I’ll show you around the campus, do my job and all that. Make up for lost time.”

“I guess you and Eddie spent a lot of time doing that?”

West said, “Should’ve done more, probably. He—”

“Well surprise, surprise,” Riley said from behind him. He waltzed around the edge of their desks and sat on the one next to Andrew, dropping a proprietary elbow on his shoulder. The point of bone dug in. “We’re all in this one together, looks like.”

West’s lemon-sucking face put wrinkles at the sides of his eyes. He lifted his phone in a farewell gesture and strode to the front of the room to take his seat with the women he knew, who rekindled their conversation after a few awkward glances in Riley’s direction. Andrew shrugged off the weight of Riley’s arm and the other boy kicked his heel against the metal leg of the desk.

“He doesn’t care for me,” he said under his breath.

Understatement, Andrew thought. “Eddie said he was kind of uptight, but all right otherwise.”

“Well, West thought Ed was a nice rich boy who fell in with some nasty trailer trash,” he said.

Riley stared across the room at West, radiating a dislike that Andrew found out of character, despite having known him for less than four days. West ignored him performatively with a dignified, almost effete slouch in his direction. The professor arrived, an older man with a grizzled beard and a salmon polo shirt. Andrew turned his attention to the class introduction, then the lecture, maintaining haphazard interest. When the professor dismissed them, he stood to go and found himself bracketed by Riley and West. Bristling irritation radiated from his roommate and sloughed off of West’s frown. A thread of curiosity twanged in Andrew. The two had bad blood, obviously, and the optics weren’t great.