Belladonna by Anbara Salam

Author:Anbara Salam [Salam, Anbara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-06-09T00:00:00+00:00

19.

November

Nancy was true to her word and arrived at my door the next morning with two cups of Nescafé she’d made with a heating coil in her bedroom. She sat on the bed and talked again about the syllabus they had covered. I made hasty notes in my notebook and was dismayed to learn I’d already missed a large section on the Baroque, which I hoped was going to be the subject of my special essay in the spring.

“Do you think Patrizi will give me a catch-up session?” I said, a headache beginning at the corner of my right eye.

“Maybe,” Nancy said. She raised her eyebrows. “But when would you do it?”

“Jeez,” I said. “I don’t know. Weekends?”

Nancy looked solemn. “That’s probably a good idea.”

I threw myself back on the coverlet. “This is awful,” I whined. “I’m going to be the stupidest alumni in the history of the academy.”

Nancy touched my leg. “Well, there’s always Bunny.”

I laughed, although I didn’t feel any better.

I went early to the Italian classroom to find Elena before our lesson. She had a smudge of lipstick on her teeth I couldn’t stop looking at. I made vague allusions to my family emergency, but I think she already knew and was pretending ignorance for the sake of discretion. She said she’d be available to me for extra tutoring on Saturdays if I wanted. Which sounded horribly depressing, but I was grateful anyway.

As usual, Isabella was late to class. She came in rubbing a pink line on her face where the contour of her pillowcase was imprinted.

“Hello.” She slipped in next to me.

I smiled, but I was annoyed at her. She hadn’t been in her room the night before. Or in the common room. I’d stayed up, waiting, while Ruth insisted on showing me photos of her niece’s christening. After Ruth left, Mary Babbage came in with a pair of tap shoes she’d had sent in the mail from Milan. And then she put them on and tapped about until Nancy came by and begged her to stop. I ended up falling asleep upright in the armchair, groggily starting every time the corridor floorboards creaked. And then she hadn’t been at breakfast either. Neither had I, but that wasn’t the point. Isabella should have been at breakfast looking for me. Waiting for me.

She wrote a note on the margin of her book and slid it over. Miss me? it said.

I stared at the note. Was it a test? Should I say yes or pretend I hadn’t missed her? Which would she find more interesting? Course! I wrote. I examined it again before I slid the book back over. That was the right tone. Cheery but not needy. Then I wrote next to it, Miss me??

She scribbled for ages on the paper, and my pulse raced. Why was she taking so long? Could she have missed me all that much? When she passed back the book, I pinned it under my elbow. I was desperate to read the note straightaway, but Elena was looking at me.

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