I found myself leaning forward on the edge of my seat waiting for what he was going to say.
“It was not well-argued. And frankly, doing a feminist reading of Hemingway is far from original.”
His words felt like a blow. I thought I’d put forth a considered and well-supported case for a feminist reading of Hemingway’s short stories. But I didn’t know how to articulate that without sounding stupid in front of this intellectual giant. “So… I take it that it isn’t?”
He smiled at me like I was especially amusing. “No.” He reached forward and took the paper I was still so sweatily grasping and flipped several pages. “While I appreciate your empathy for the girl in Hills Like White Elephants, it’s not grounded in textual evidence.”
“Oh.” I sat there wanting the ground to swallow me up. I’d worked hard on the paper, and it was true, I had felt empathy for the girl in that story, faced with the callous American demanding she get an abortion.
“Hey,” said Jeff, reaching out and putting a hand on my knee, just the quickest touch before removing it. It was just friendly, nothing more, I told myself. “But if you want, I am offering tutoring sessions. There’s a group that meets at my house on Tuesdays. You’re welcome to come.”
I smiled, feeling lit up from his attention. “Really? That’d be great. I want to get my Master’s in Literature so it means so much to me to do well in this class.”
He smiled back at me, a really warm smile that made him look even more handsome. “Here, I’ll write down the address for you, then.” He took my paper from me, flipped it over, and scribbled his address on the back. “Tuesday at seven. Don’t be late.”
“I won’t be,” I gushed. “Promise.”
“Good girl.”
I woke with a start, Jeff’s, “Good girl” still ringing in my ears, and waves of revulsion shuddering through my body.
Only to sit up with a start because oh shit.
No.
No no no no!
My backpack was gone.
I picked up the straps that were still wound in between my arms and looked in horrified disbelief at the ends that had been shorn clean through.
Someone had cut them while I slept and stolen the backpack right off me.
Son of a bitch!
I jumped to my feet and looked left and right, but whoever had done it was long gone. I’d been dead asleep for who knew how long after the days on the road, even in the uncomfortable bus station plastic chair.
Oh shit.
My hands went uselessly to my head as I looked back and forth from one end of the bus depot to the other.
My backpack had everything in it. My possessions. My money. Oh shit, it had my money. I raked my hands through my short hair.
I was so fucked.
I’d thought about getting one of those travel money belts that fit underneath your clothes, but in the end I hadn’t done it. I didn’t think I’d—
I threw the useless straps to the floor and fought angry tears that flooded my eyes.
To get so far and now to lose everything! What the hell was I going to do?! That backpack had everything. Even my tampons because my period was going to start next week. Shit! Shit shit shit shit!
“Do you have a ticket?” asked a voice from behind me. “You can’t be here overnight in the station unless you have a ticket for a morning bus.”
I spun around to see a guard eyeing me suspiciously.
“Yes. I mean, yes, I’m going to get on a bus in the morning.”
“Can I see your ticket?”
Shit. “It was too late when I got in. The ticket booth was closed. But I’ll buy a ticket first thing when it opens again.” Ha. With what money? Was I going to panhandle?
The guard frowned. “I’m gonna need to see some ID then.”
I blanched and the guard wasn’t an idiot. Neither was he moved when I tried to explain what had happened, even as I showed him the cut straps of my backpack.
“You need to exit the station or I’ll escort you out.”
“Well, you see, it’s a funny story. See these straps? I was robbed. Just now!”
The guard stood stoically, not seeming moved by my explanations and I couldn’t help getting frustrated. “You’re a guard on duty. Where were you when the thieves were stealing all my earthly possessions? Don’t you have cameras in this place? It should be caught on camera.”
But even as I heard myself say it, I got to my feet. “You know what, never mind. I’m out of here.”
Because was I really sitting here drawing so much attention to myself and even demanding we look at taped footage of me? Jesus, this was a red flag and the exact opposite of everything I’d promised myself I would do on this journey. I was meant to fade into the background, be completely inconspicuous so that no one would remember me or be able to describe me in case any of Jeff’s minions came looking.