Paul almost smiled.
“Yeah.
She’d say both.”
We went back inside.
The music was still playing.
And in the corner of the living room, a small girl with dark braids and her father’s eyes looked up at me from the sofa and said, “Are you Grandpa John?
Dad says you study books.”
I crouched down to her level.
“I do,” I said.
“Which ones?” she asked.
I called the department head at nine o’clock the next morning.
Her name was Dr.
Eleanor Marsh.
I had met her once, briefly, at an orientation event in my first semester.
She had shaken my hand and said she was glad to see students of all backgrounds enrolling.
I had not thought much of it at the time.
It had sounded like something people said.
Her assistant put me through after a short wait.
“Mr.
Calloway,” she said.
“Congratulations on your graduation yesterday.
