Chapter 6: Her Own Way

By Tuesday morning I understood that a Boston coat was not a coat.

I had walked four blocks across campus to my first seminar, and my ears had stopped hurting somewhere on the second one.

Soren was waiting outside the stats building with a thick green parka over his arm.

"Put it on," he said.

"I'm fine."

"Your lips are blue."

"They're always a little blue."

"Dorinda."

It was the first time he had said my first name.

I took the parka.

It was enormous, and it smelled of cedar and engine oil.

I put it on over my wool coat, and the sleeves hung two inches past my fingers.

"I have a second one," he said. "It's a loaner. The department keeps a rack of them for people from Florida."

"I'm from West Virginia."

"We don't have a rack for that."

He reached out and zipped it for me, from my hip to my chin.

His knuckles brushed my throat on the way up.

He did it quickly, and he stopped at the top and looked at the zipper instead of at me.

I noticed that his hands were not cold at all.

I noticed it for longer than I meant to.

"There," he said.

"Thank you," I said. "How much is it?"

"It's a loaner."

"How much would it cost new?"

He sighed. "Dorinda."

"I'd like to know, so I can pay it."

"It's a hundred and sixty dollars, and it's not for sale."

I took out my wallet and counted out eighty dollars in cash, which was half of what I had until Friday.

"A hundred and sixty minus rental," I said. "I'll pay the rest when I get my first stipend."

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