“No one’s here,” I whispered, my fingers clutching the pen of the guest book. Every wake I had ever attended had been full of teary family members and respectful friends, browsing over photographs and trading stories. Not this one. There were about ten people milling about, all faculty from the college, tapping their fingers or checking their phones. Forty years of teaching and all Maggie got were about thirty scribbled names of colleagues who undoubtedly felt obligated to attend. “This is so weird,”
“Professor Toland!” Will shook another of our old acting professor’s hands, a man in his forties now, who was always kind to me. In fact, he was always kind to everyone, including Maggie, who at least treated her colleagues with more respect than her students. I had only encountered her once as a colleague, during an all-faculty meeting, where she had asked me “Are you bored with bio yet?” I blushed, attempted to respond “No” but instead mumbled something incoherent and buried my face in my notebook.
As for Dr. Toland, he had tried to keep me from switching to biology, but his sweeping gaze past me told me he didn’t remember me at all. I only took four acting classes before quitting, and one had been his. It wasn’t bad, but knowing I had more semesters of Maggie made me decide to use my intellect to study life forms to cure disease rather than my creativity, leaving my passion for theater behind. I wasn’t great at it, anyway; I just liked it. In biology, I realized I was on the path to success when I got the only A in my intro class, a trend that continued well into grad school.
While the two embraced and Will attempted to flounce his New York experiences (“It says Will on my resume. I can’t be bothered with William anymore,” he announced), I could barely contain my shock that no nieces, nephews or even some decrepit old aunts would attend Maggie’s wake. I knew she had no children but, I mean, not everyone has children. I don’t… But I still have family. I wondered if that meant her casket would get buried in solitude the following morning.
“William, let’s get out of here and go to Creak Point. Please.” I hissed once Dr. Toland finished pouring affections onto Will. Although Will, always the faculty favorite, was aglow with pride, I felt as if the ceiling was caving in and if I didn’t get out of here soon my lungs would collapse. I was used to everyone praising Will so it wasn’t that, but something about the place and the fakeness of everyone around us made me feel like I was being suffocated.
“Alright, alright,” he responded, signing so largely in the guest book that John Hancock would’ve been jealous. I peered over his shoulder to see if I recognized any names from our graduating class, but only a few seemed familiar. One was a favorite just like Will, while the other was probably just masochistic. “Did you see the body?” he asked.
I nodded, not letting my eyes wander to the polished casket again. Once was enough. “Yes. It was creepy. Let’s leave, okay?”
***
We were lying on the roof of my car, staring up. The sky was a blacklit canopy with tiny holes poked in it, letting starlight through. Will always suggested we lay on the hood with our backs on the windshield, but I’m too afraid it will crumple underneath us and I’ll have to explain to GEICO. So we do the roof.
“Will,” I said quietly, crossing my ankles just where the bone popped out. “If I ever get like Maggie…”
“Shoot you?” he winked. In a rare moment of affection, Will gently slid his arm around my shoulders. I could feel the stiffness of his stiff-collared shirt crinkling underneath the soft cashmere sweater. “Don’t worry. You won’t.”
I placed my head on his scrawny shoulder, not exactly finding it a pillow, but I was comforted by the scent of his familiar cologne. One that was very popular with all the guys down in New York, I guarantee. “I wish I knew what made you so sure of that. Sometimes, I… I don’t know. I worry. Margaret had no one. No kids, no family, nothing. I’m scared that… I don’t wanna be in the same boat, ya know? I’m gonna be thirty soon. It’s not like I’m gonna meet anyone in the lab. And sometimes, you know, with my students… I feel like I’m not nice enough. Ugh, I know this sounds awful but sometimes I’m like, astounded by how little they know about biology. I know they’re learning, that I shouldn’t feel that way, but…”
“You’re nothing like Maggie,” Will’s voice was firmer this time. “Yeah, you are awkward, kinda nerdy, but you aren’t mean.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I feel myself almost rolling my eyes when they get such a simple answer wrong,” I hesitated to tell Will my next story, biting my lower lip. “This one time, this student asked me if cells could die and I couldn’t help it, but I asked if he was serious. I couldn’t help it. He was just a freshman but it was so obvious. It just flew out of my mouth. I felt so bad.”
Will shook his head. “You’re nothing like her. That’s dumb.”
You’re one of the dumbest students I’ve ever had.
I can’t explain what happened but in a single second I no longer cared that Margaret Hitzen was alive or dead or that she was morose and I didn’t know why. All I knew is that Maggie influenced me, whether I wanted her to or not, just as she had influenced Will, challenging him to be the actor he was today. She lived through us because she changed us.
Maybe the flooding of relief came from a private moment I didn’t share with Will, one that happened at the wake. When I finally stood in front of Margaret’s open casket, peering down into the oddly waxy face with makeup too pristine to actually be Maggie’s, I smirked.
“It was Arthur Miller, you bitch.”
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