Page 12 of Songs of Summer

Saved by the bell, Maggie thought, until the nosiest and most famously nitpicky customer in all of Chagrin Falls entered the shop. What if her mother was like that chick?

She wouldn’t email Beatrix; she would drive to Gambier in the morning and check her out in person.

Track 5

Little Lies

Maggie and Jason

Maggie woke upat dawn and changed six times before she and Jason started out on the two-hour drive to Gambier. In the end, she decided, it didn’t matter what she wore. She would not meet her mother on that day; Jason needed to vet her first. She would wait to spring this news on him until the last leg of the ride.

“J?” she said in a saccharine-coated plea as they exited I-71. “Can I ask you a favor?”

He looked at her quizzically. She had been staring out the window since they left Main Street, and conversation had been limited to a couple of yes and no answers and a grunt or two. Jason had let it slide. This could not be easy for her.

“Of course,” he answered, patting her knee.

“You may not like it. It’s possibly unethical.”

“Worse than when you made me steal two pieces of Bazooka Joe from the candy bins at the Popcorn Shop?”

She laughed. “Yes, worse than that.”

“Lay it on me.”

“I want you to meet Beatrix on your own. Maybe say you are thinking of applying for a job.”

“She’s in the English Department. I’m in Philosophy and Ethics. It makes no sense.”

She must have looked deflated because he reconsidered.

“She’s a Henry James expert, right? How about I say I’m writing a dissertation on ethical judgment through the lens of Henry James and would love to ask her some questions?”

“I have zero idea what that means, but it sounds perfect.”

“Perfectly unethical,” he grunted.

•••

The Kenyon campuswas small and easy to navigate. They had both been there once before, on a college counselor–led trip during the winter of their junior year of high school. All they remembered was the gorgeous new gym and how beautiful the lawns and halls looked in the snow. It wasn’t lost on either of them, as they thought about it now, that they may have walked right by Maggie’s birth mother.

“It looks different in the spring, doesn’t it?” Maggie remarked, trying to make normal conversation when she really felt like vomiting.

“Still so beautiful, though,” Jason responded.

She could picture him in this old-school/old-timey academic life, living in the bubble of a college campus, wearing vests, smoking a pipe, and making jokes in Latin. Case Western, with its modern buildings and abstract sculptures, had a much different vibe. Professors there commuted from all over the place, and its proximity to Cleveland gave it a more urban feel.

She stopped in front of a campus map, her eyes panningfrom theyou are heremark to the academic buildings, searching for one named Waite House.

“It’s over there,” she said, pointing to the left before putting her hand to her stomach.

“What’s the matter?” Jason asked.

“My stomach hurts. Probably IBS rooted in generational trauma. All my Jewish friends in college had weak stomachs when they were nervous.”

“You’re nuts, you know that?” He wrapped his arms around her for a hug. This time, she took the comfort. She needed it.

They made their way to the English Quad, where Waite House and Beatrix Silver’s office were located. Before pulling open the heavy wooden door, Jason paused.

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