Page 91 of A Winding Wave of Magic
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PRESENTING DR. WHELAN
My name upon the winds?—
All omens monstrous and appalling
Affright my guilty mind.
— JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN, “SHAPES AND SIGNS”
“Cassandra Margaret Whelan.”
As my name echoed across Alumni Stadium, at least three taxicab whistles called from the crowd. I stepped onto the stage in the octagonal cap and velvet-striped sleeves that marked my degree.
“Congratulations, Dr. Whelan,” said the dean, a middle-aged man with bifocals and receding hair gelled over a bald spot. A line of sweat trickled down his brow. I wasn’t the only one struggling with the unseasonably warm spring weather, though I was the only one wearing gloves.
I smiled and accepted his handshake as he handed me the diploma. His thoughts were about what I would have expected,wondering how many students were left. The man would have killed for a gin and tonic at the faculty club.
“Thank you, sir,” I said, then walked across the stage and back to my chair on the field amidst the other graduates.
And that was it. Although I had passed my defense four weeks earlier, I was now officially a conferred PhD in Irish Languages and Literature. It didn’t matter that I was sweating like a pig under the blistering sun. It didn’t matter that I was trapped here with thousands of other people whose thoughts and feelings threatened with every errant nudge.
I was done. Finished. Free.
I expelled a long breath, allowing the weight and pressures of the last five months to slide off my shoulders like water. Oh, water. I licked my lips and reached under my seat for my water bottle. Unscrewed the top, slipped off a glove, and dipped my fingers in before taking a long draught. It worked—when the student next to me returned and brushed my shoulder as he sat down, his thoughts slipped over me like they were nothing but a stream. Nothing coherent. Fluid and just as fleeting.
I’d used that trick more than once over the past few months. Even so, a swim or surf sounded amazing right about now.
After my grandmother’s death, my committee members had asked if I needed extra time to finish, even Professor James. But they knew as well as I did that if I didn’t push, I could kiss my new job goodbye. I still didn’t know what I was going to do about my “inheritance,” but Jonathan had told me to live my life as if I knew nothing while I dealt with Gran’s ashes and delivered my mother’s piece to her.
I hadn’t heard from him since leaving Manzanita, the day after the fire. A box containing Gran’s ashes had arrived in the mail two weeks later, along with a note:
When you’re ready, Sybil is too.
— J
Because of course my mother couldn’t be bothered with something as simple as a phone call. She had to send a message through him.
I wasn’t ready to spread the ashes, if that’s what he meant. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be. But I sent a letter to Sibyl telling her I planned to return in May after graduation. I’d fly through Seattle on my way to Oregon, and she could come with me to Ireland to spread Gran’s ashes together if she wanted.
A telegram arrived the following week.
SEE YOU IN MAY - [STOP] - ILL SAY MY GOODBYES IN SEATTLE - [STOP] - SYBIL - [STOP]
And that was that. I went back to thinking about little else besides the Brigid mythology and old Irish. A newly installed safe held Gran’s ashes, her will, and the mysterious black box that I had not been able to bring myself to touch again.Everything was stowed away in the back of my closet and the back of my mind.
That is, until I went to sleep, where a shadowed man and a pair of green eyes lurked just under the veil of darkness. Where sometimes flames licked the edges of my consciousness, and I’d wake up crying for the memories to come back.For Gran to come back.
I took another drink of water and smiled into the rays of sunshine above me. The last few graduates were walking across the stage now. Soon the stadium would erupt in cheers and celebration. I knew I would have to open that closet sometimeand make some real decisions about my future, but for now, I was just going to enjoy my moment in the sun.
“Just one more, Cass, come on!”
I leaned down in my robes to wrap an arm awkwardly around Reina’s diminutive frame. My best friend had made the trip across the country to celebrate, and we smiled at Aja, who pointed her phone at us while her boyfriend, Nick, looked bored and ready to go.
“Babe, that’s like the millionth picture you’ve taken,” he grumbled. “The T is gonna be packed.”
Aja rolled her eyes but put her phone back in her purse. I had no idea how she had wrangled Nick as a date for my graduation ceremony, but I gathered her short skirt might have had something to do with it.
