Page 55 of All Saints: Pledge

When the site loads, there is a plethora of stories about my grandfather. About his choir work, about the productionshe worked on, producing Opera scenes on the Oxford campus. About his exemplary public service record, his volunteering with impoverished youth—several quotes about how he feels like music is the great leveling field if we would just expose all children to its healing and edifying powers. My grandfather fleshes out in my head, no longer just the man I knew before he died, but a full person who lived an entire life before he had children or a grandchild.

I screenshot a few of them, and paste them into the family group text. I know my father will cherish seeing these things. If I’d never gone to Oxford, we would never had had a way to access these. The last entry in the queue catches my eye, and I click on it. It’s not about my grandfather, but he’s mentioned in the list of keywords. It’s a tragic story, one about a woman who jumped from the top of Somerville college’s accommodation building and down onto the stone pathway in the Darbeshire Quad. She’d committed suicide, but the article did not have a theory about why. The article instead, focuses on the investigation that ultimately found no probable cause for foul play, but simply stated that women often found the rigors of Oxford hard to deal with. I want to scream that there’s not actual discussion about mental health in this article, but the writing, done in the 60’s, focuses instead on the potential ill-fit of women in other colleges given their emotional states. It’s not until I get to the end of the article that my grandfather is mentioned. “Edwina Backhurst was unfortunately discovered by another student, Jonathan Eades, as he walked a companion home after choir practice.” And then, that’s it. That’s the most contentious thing I can find out about my grandfather.

I feel badly for him, having to find another student like that, but…I’d expected something worse. Cheating. Sleeping with a teacher. Faking exam results. Streaking. Something that would hint at the scandal Kendall mentioned. I screenshot the article,and remind myself to look up Edwina Backhurst another time. Maybe there’s something I missed. Suddenly tired, I close my book and put my head into my hands.

“I thought I might find you here.”

I snap my head up at the man’s voice, the chair across from me screeching a little as it’s pulled out.

My eyes widen as I take in Dominic’s tall form, folding itself into the chair. Li follows, pulling out the chair next to Dom’s after shaking fresh snow from the shoulders of her coat.

“It’s snowing?” I ask stupidly, blinking up at her.

“Since seven,” she replies.

My gaze darts to Dominic. He’s studying me across the table.

“You look tired. I brought coffee for all of us,” he says as he slings his satchel down by his feet and rummages around inside of it.

“Better not let anyone see you with coffee in here,” Li hisses.

This is all normal and lovely but it’s been weeks since I’ve seen them.

“I….” I trail off and rub my eyes. “How are you?”

Dominic pauses and looks up at me. So many things flash there. “I’ve been better. Class work is shit right now. But, I’m doing okay. How areyou?”

I’m not even sure what to say. I’m fine, except I’m up to my eyeballs in final papers, embroiled in a secret society that wants to auction my virtuous nature off and bind me with a life full of favors owed? Or fine, except for how I can’t get the night I spent with Kendall out of my mind, and I can only admit I miss his solid presence in my bed to myself in the middle of the night. My eyes dart around, expecting Kendall to emerge from the stacks, his ever present ghost materializing always at the most inopportune moments.

Dominic takes my silence as a hesitation. He and Li exchange glances. He leans forward, encouraging me to do the same. “That guy came to see me.”

I’m stricken. “Again? Kendall?”

Dominic presses his lips together. I gather there’s still no love lost between the two of them. “Kendall. Yeah. But not what you think—he apologized. He said that he’d been very drunk. He paid my medical bills and everything.”

I squint. “He. Apologized.” The words Kendall and apology don’t belong in the same sentence.

“Yeah.” Dominic sits back, still a little wary. “And he also said that you didn’t deserve to lose your friends just because he’s a terrible drunk.”

Something loosens in my chest. I blink rapidly, because now I think I might cry?

Li sits forward. “And since he apologized and promised to leave us all alone from here on out…”

She and Dominic exchange another look. He inclines his head, and she turns back to me like we’re making a real estate deal. “We don’t think his actions should cost you friends, either. Especially when he made it clear you aren’t involved with him.”

Something flutters in my stomach, and I refuse to analyze it.This is what I’ve wanted.We’re not involved, we’re not friends. I’ve made it clear every time I ignore him at meetings and out in the quad. Every time I run into him in the library.

“What do you think?” My gaze flies to Dominic next. I can see him thawing. He means more than just what I think about being friends. I think I see hope behind his eyes, and it kicks me in the ribs right behind my heart. This sweet man, this is the sort of thing I need in my life. He’s never been confusing. He’s never threatened or drugged me. At the very least, I need that sort of energy in my life, even if I’m not allowed to date him. I can’t get him hurt again.

“I’m going to be really busy for the rest of the term with scholarship stuff,” I say slowly, not sure how much Li has intuited about Dominic and I.

Dominic nods. Li’s eyes dart back and forth between us.

“But after this term, I’m hoping to stay at Oxford without the, er, overwhelming restrictions that come with my scholarship, which will make things so much less weird. I’d love to be friends.”Until then, I silently add. I think Dominic understands me though, because after a moment’s pause, he nods again as if satisfied with my proposal. A small smile graces his lips. “Friends, then. Agreed.”

And he shrugs off his coat, draping it over the empty wooden chair next to him. Our agreement settled, it’s on to business. And in Oxford, business is always studying.

“My philosophy prof is being such a wanker about this reading,” Li grumbles, pulling out her tablet. The e-book that loads that is so marked up with highlighting, it would be easier to pick out words thatweren’thighlighted. She looks at the empty table in font of me. “How’s your English class going, still having trouble with the papers?”

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