Page 7

Twenty-Nine Years Before

The day Crane met his wife did not start out well.

He’d forgotten to set his alarm clock, or it had failed to go off.

It didn’t matter because by the time his roommate shook him awake, he had twenty minutes to get to campus before his organic chemistry midterm.

The exam was worth 30 percent of the grade. He had to maintain a 3.6 GPA to keep his scholarship.

He did not shower, did not eat, did not pass go. It was raining and normally he would take the bus to campus, but he had no time, so he asked his roommate if he could borrow his bike.

He got to campus drenched, shivering, and with two minutes to spare before the test started. He threw the chain around the bike and ran inside the chemistry building. The TAs were passing out the exams just as he sat down. One gave him a look: Cutting it close, Mister.

He had trouble focusing, unable to shake the feeling that he’d forgotten something, like maybe he’d left the stove on, except he didn’t cook (what college sophomore did?).

He yanked his attention back to the work—heterocyclic compounds, polymers, he knew this stuff—but as soon as he scribbled an answer, that sense of unfinished business gnawed at him again.

It was probably retroactive, worrying after the fact that he’d forgotten to set the alarm.

He reminded himself it had all ended well.

He’d made it on time and he was prepared for the test, but the feeling did not go away.

O chem was one of his strongest subjects, but he took the entire testing period to complete the exam, with not a minute left over to check his answers.

When the proctors called time, he handed in his test and shuffled outside, where the rain had lessened to a drizzle and the sky was a bright, blaring gray.

He squinted, his head aching because he had skipped coffee and breakfast in the morning’s rush.

He turned left, walking toward the student union, urgently needing some food and caffeine, but as he approached the building, that nagging feeling of having forgotten something grew more intense.

He decided to go home, to check the stove and the front door, double-check his alarm clock for tomorrow.

As he scanned the racks, trying to recall what his roommate’s bicycle looked like, his gaze snagged on a young woman, pacing back and forth.

She was beautiful, in spite of the look on her face, which was lethal.

When she saw him approach the bikes, her eyes narrowed and he realized the lethalness was aimed at him. It should have scared him. But it didn’t.

“Is this yours?”

she asked, pointing at the silver Mongoose.

It wasn’t. It was his roommate’s. But even if it had been a total stranger’s bike, would have claimed it. He nodded and she held up the chain, which in his haste, he now saw, he had locked not just to his roommate’s bike but also to the one next to it, a purple Schwinn with a basket.

“Can you unlock it, please?”

She glanced at the silver watch around her slender wrist. Her skin was fair, almost pink, dusted with freckles.

“I’m so, so sorry,”

said. As he unlocked the chain, he hastily told her the story of his morning, apologizing every fifth word, because he was truly sorry, and also because he didn’t want to let this girl go just yet. “Let me make it up to you,” he added. “Take you to breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner.”

“I can’t. I’m almost late for my exam, which is on the other side of campus,” she said.

“After your exam, then.”

“That’s in two hours.”

“I’ll wait.”

“I have to work at three.”

“Where do you work?”

“Our Lady of Salvation.”

vaguely knew that this was a Catholic church, a place that was only memorable to him because its bells had rusted through and never rang, which thought was an apt metaphor for religion.

was a scientist. He hoped to become a biochemical researcher or an industrial engineer. He did not believe in God. Want to see a miracle? Look at the neon glory of mitochondria under an electric microscope. Of hydrated ferric acid turning a church bell from bright orange copper to algae green. If this girl was some sort of Bible thumper, then she was not for him.

But as he watched her ride away, that feeling of having forgotten something returned like a fire engine screaming in his head. This girl, who he’d never met, but whose bike he’d accidentally chained his borrowed one to, was the fire.

He jumped on his roommate’s bike and pedaled fast and hard to the other side of the campus, catching up with her just as she was dismounting by the history building.

“I’m sorry,”

he said, breathless. “I’m not stalking you, but if it’s okay, I’d like to wait for you.”

She looked at him for what felt like a long time. It was absurd what he was asking, ridiculous to expect her to say anything beyond “Buzz off!”

She locked her bike. “Suit yourself,”

she said, and walked into the building to sit for her exam.

was still hungry, and he knew, logically, he had plenty of time to grab a burrito and a coffee and be back before she finished; even if she was a fast test taker, she couldn’t be that fast. But he was not about to risk it. So he sat on a bench near the bike racks and waited in the drizzle.

When she emerged from the test, the sun had come out. She stood still for a moment, head up, basking in the rays. He thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful, until seconds later, she put her hand to her forehead and scanned the area, looking for him.

He stood up from his bench and waved at her. She waved back. That nagging feeling of missing something vanished into the sun-dappled air.