"Wait a minute," I said confusedly, "was that a natural log or log base ten?"
Cara looked at me -- at least, I think she did; my vision was a little fuzzy -- and closed her book. "I think we're done for tonight," she said wryly.
"No, I'm just getting started!" I protested.
She raised an eyebrow and replied, "Yeah, just getting started on a good night's sleep!" She stood up then, disregarding my halfhearted protests. "It's okay, really. We've been at this for over five hours now, and if we go much longer, it'll probably have the opposite effect than what we're hoping for!"
"But--"
"On that last one, it didn't matter what the base of the logarithm was. There was one in the numerator and one in the denominator. As long as the base is the same, remember..."
"They cancel out," I finished. "Dammit, I can't believe I'm forgetting things so easily!"
"Which is why you need to stop now. Glance through your notes when you get up, okay? But go to bed now. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay," I said, and rose to walk her to the door. "Do you think I'll pass? I can't even figure out why I'm so stressed about it. I don't even care about what's on my record."
She shrugged, knowing that I knew the answer and just didn't want to hear it. "You'll do fine, though. Don't worry about passing; that's in the bag." She opened the door and walked through. "What you and I are fighting for is a grade we can hang up on the refridgerator and show off."
"Yeah, I suppose so," I answered with a half-smile. "And Cara?"
"Hm?"
"Thank you. I know I'm not the best pupil, but I owe you my grade."
"Damn right you do!" she called as she walked toward her car. "That's why you'd better get an A!"
"Yeah, yeah..." I mumbled to myself as I closed the door. But she was right; I'd spent enough time and energy on this class, I wanted to do better than just passing... which was a little ironic, considering I was entertaining no thoughts of returning for another semester. Maybe eventually, I would. But not now. Not yet.
Back in the kitchen, I cleared the table and readied my schoolbag for the morrow. In less than a week, though, I'd be out of California. For good? I doubted it. There was much to be said for the Golden State, and even if I stayed in England for a very long time, I could see myself returning. Once the pain of the past had died away and I was ready to face the memories... once my ghosts had been put to rest.
Ghosts, ghouls, undead... they could all rest for now, though. Or not. They could do whatever they wanted, so long as they left me alone for a few hours. I went to sleep in my clothes less than twenty minutes after Cara had left.
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I awoke with the distinct memory of having dreamt, though the dream itself was no distinct memory. Something about being chased down the street by an angry Calculus book, which became a Calc book driving a red '57 Chevy convertible the next time I looked back at it, which then became Cara driving a car that was shaped like the book. Looking at the clock, I saw that I was up a half hour early, and groaned. Enough time to be bored and tired, but not enough time to go back to sleep. Damn.
I stretched and threw my legs off the couch. A few moments later, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I then very deliberately put a hand on the side of the couch and finished the last stage of getting out of bed.
There was a definite chill in the room, so I fished a clean pair of socks out of the suitcase I'd been living out of and put them on before shuffling into the kitchen and making coffee. An orange left in the fruit bowl made for a nice breakfast while I waited for the coffee to percolate. After washing my hands and pouring a cup, I located a clean pair of jeans and a blouse. If the gathering clouds visible out the westward facing window were any indication, today would not be a good one to even try to wear a skirt.
How could the weather have been so beautiful the previous afternoon, however crisp the air had been, and yet so foreboding the very next morning? I just hoped that any approaching rain would hold off until after I had returned from class. It was wonderful to watch the rain from inside, particularly if one were watching the ocean, but it was far less inspiring to be driving in it. I clutched my coat around me as I got out of the car and walked from the parking lot. By now, a steady breeze had started to come up, and I was quite glad that I had chosen the attire I had.
There were people in my Calculus classroom that I hadn't seen for weeks; people who I'd thought had dropped out; people who simply hadn't bothered to attend a class in which the grade rested solely on the results of a midterm and a final exam. Not that I really blamed them; if they thought they knew what they were doing, who was I to countermand them? By the time the professor arrived, more than half the desks were full. I saw Cara turning the pages of her notebook one last time a few seats in front of me and to the left, and I followed suit until we were told to clear our desks.
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The steady breeze had become a strong wind within the span of two hours; my hair whipped around my face as I walked from my car to the front door of Jackson's house. Technically, I had another exam that afternoon, but my professor had already talked to me about that. It seemed that my grade in that class was so high, it could withstand even a zero on the final without wavering. She actually recommended that, unless I was dead set on taking the exam, I simply let it slide. It would be less for me to worry about, and less for her to grade. I'd gratefully accepted, and returned to Jackson's house to pack my things. It was time to leave.
It was not yet noon when I returned, though, and I found a sleepy-looking Jackson standing shirtless in the kitchen, drinking coffee and looking out the window.
"How'd it go?" he queried, his light voice and lively eyes completely contradicting his half-awake appearance.
"What, the test or the drive?"
"You choose."
I shrugged in response. "I understood more than I thought I would," I began, "but of course, I can't be sure of anything until I get my results back."
"I'm sure you did fine." He took another sip before saying, "And what now? You mentioned going back to England, but when? Have you decided anything yet?"
"Yeah, actually." I pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. "I'll be leaving on Saturday. But I thought I'd spend the next couple of days back at my house, getting some things put together and sorted through, especially since I don't want to be returning anytime soon."
At this, he looked at me with concern on his face. "Are you sure?"
I smiled warmly and nodded. "Don't worry about me," I said as I stood and pushed the chair in. "I stopped needing looking-after some years ago. I'll be fine." I then surprised even myself by leaning toward him and planting a kiss on his cheek. It was a friendly gesture, one I hadn't even thought about, but one which obviously caught him a little off-guard, and which caused me to blush a little. Nevertheless, I retained my composure as I stepped back, smiled, and left the room.
I stuffed the few clothes I had brought into a bag, made sure my books were collected and packed, then checked the bathroom for my shampoo and toothbrush. And the key. I'd put it on my keyring after he'd given it to me, figuring that it was least likely to get lost there. And for the life of me, I couldn't even remember what his name was. Jackson's friend. The guy whose apartment I'd be occupying for a time. I could just ask Jackson, of course... but no. For some reason, I just didn't want to.
I steeled myself and made for the door, but then it opened while I was still several steps away, and Jackson popped his head in.
"Jan, I'm heading out..." his eyes took in the bags in my hands and the relatively empty appearance of the room. No novels stacked on the dresser, no hairbrush on the nightstand, no blouse tossed over the back of the chair. "I know you said you were leaving, but... well, you move fast!"
"I just don't want to impose any more," I said, trying to smile. Of course, I was sad to be leaving. That was why I was doing it right away. Maybe then, I wouldn't have time to notice.
"Well," he said, "you're not an imposition at all, but I think I understand. Just remember to keep in touch, okay?"
"Sure thing," I responded.
He reached out and took my larger bag from me and walked me to my car. We tossed the bags into the trunk, and he gave me a hug, saying, "Take care of yourself now, got it?"
I couldn't say anything, so I just nodded, got in my car, and drove off.
Chapter 18 - - - - Chapter 20