Hadrian's Wall (40 page)

The schedule has been personalized
especially for me? I cannot believe it!

“I won’t know how to use
it!” I looked at it with horror because it was too “SciFi” for my
tastes. I wish you could see your face now.” He laughed. “You
look
like someone holding a dead, stinking,
bloody animal.”

I frowned at that idea.

“Don’t worry,” he said after he managed stop
to laughing. “You’ll have all the assistance you need. Someone will
help you...”

“Someone?”

“Yes, you’ll meet him today, later this
afternoon.”

“Who?”

“You’ll meet him later today,” he repeated
as one speaking to a small child. He withdrew the PDA from my hand.
“One more thing, this works with solar battery, but not just any
battery.”

No, of course not just any battery!

“You just need to leave it in the sun, with
the cap open, for one hour once every thirty days... or whenever
you feel like it. It recharges quickly. If any anomalies occur...
if there’s no sunny days during one whole month, which is unlikely,
you can install a rechargeable smart battery in the PDA and connect
it to any computer that’s turned on and connected to the electrical
grid. The spare battery and other accessories will be delivered to
you today by the person that I mentioned.

“Ah, yes... the person you
mentioned...today...accessories,” I repeated, sardonically.

“Patience is a virtue,” he reminded me with
a sneer.

I looked at him suspiciously. “I’ve heard
that before...in which movie?”

He pointed his finger at me. “Gotcha!”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’ve been doing your
homework, eh?”

I had never seen him so relaxed. That Adrian
was more dangerous for my poor, erratic heart than the dour medical
resident.

“Of course!” he confessed without shame. “A
hint for you—it’s from an adventure movie...”

Now it was a matter of honor for me remember
the name of the movie and he knew it. His eyes were sparkling, full
of challenge.

“Give me one more hint!” I begged.

He shook his head, giving me an arrogant
look.

“No. But ask me again tomorrow. If you
haven’t already found the answer, then maybe I’ll tell you.”

I ate more cake.

“It seems that Christian came into your
school data and...” He changed the subject abruptly.

“Hold on! How did he do that?” I asked,
forgetting that my mouth was full.

“If you’ll let me finish.” He gave me a look
of annoyance, with raised eyebrows.

“Okay, I won’t interrupt you anymore, but I
want a very good explanation!”

This time he narrowed his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.
Otherwise, heads will roll!” he said, saluting.

“Harvest of Macha...” I suddenly remembered,
not realizing that I had spoken aloud.

But instead of laughing, he got serious. His
eyes darkened. “Where did you hear about it?”

“Celtic Mythology,” I explained, confused by
his reaction. “Dr. Barringer thought it was important for me to
unravel the origins of my imaginary winged monster.”

He nodded, but did not actually seem to
agree.

“So...where’s my explanation?” I demanded,
more to break the uncomfortable silence than to push him.

Although he was still
bored, he began to explain that his cousin procured my past
performance tests and imprinted some simulations for me to study.
As Christian was expert in handling computers
systems—
and I don’t want to imagine what
that meant
- he updated my data and
submitted my application. Here it was...I could re-take my test
very soon.

Of course, I’d still have to prepare a
portfolio and complete the application for admission and submit
both to the College’s Council. This is the kick-start the process,
according to Adrian.

He informed me that I had
an interview with the counselor and the departmental adviser,
scheduled for next Monday.
It was all
saved in my futuristic
PDA! I just needed
to check it.
But that would be possible
only when the mysterious instructor or instructress came to explain
to me how it worked.

Suddenly I felt the goose
bumps.
What am I doing?
The unshakable certainty that had accompanied me
since I woke up this morning was suddenly overturned by another
certainty. It was not madness that I most feared. It was failure. I
was afraid of turning out like those people whose life went wrong
from beginning to end, who had failed the moment they were born
because of the type of family into which they’d been born...then
failed romantic relationships, and ultimately failure to achieve
their dreams...and that was the saddest thing of all that could
happen to anyone.

I no longer wanted to be
that kind of person whose mother was disgusted with me; that kind
of person who is humiliated by colleagues, who have talent and
ideas that are often neglected and forgotten, but whose errors are
always remembered by everybody. I don’t wanna be that kind of
person whose name appears in the newspaper headlines when in a
‘
Falling Down
’
day, he or she decides to go on a rampage and shoots a machine gun
at everyone in a schoolyard or at a church door, or inside an
office.

Can someone living in the midst of the
failure, reverse the score? Or, in the end, they just get pushed
down again?

“You know, Adrian, I don’t
know what you expect from me, but my grades were bad. Just to give
you an idea, after the national test, my math teacher said that
fortunately I was part of a minority in the state statistics.” I
swallowed hard. It wasn’t easy for me to reveal my insecurities and
my failures, especially to someone perfect like him,
who has everything in the
world
.

He seemed more affected by my tone of voice
than the comment itself.

“Something bad said by an
educator to his
pupil
.
I hope you didn’t believe
him.”

I shrugged. I didn’t want
to tell Adrian about all the things that have happened since I
lived in Dailey’s Crossing. He might think I was putting on the
“poor little girl” act. Nor did I wish to remind myself of the
derogatory comments that adults said about me. At that time I was
scared that they’d send me to one of those schools for children
with mental health problems or a sanatorium.
One possibility that seemed increasingly majeure, insofar as
I was reaching the adolescence ... For this reason, I hid my
crises, even it cost me a social and school life. Perhaps my
cowardly attitude was not the right option, although it was more
comfortable to me.
When was it that I
started to believe what they said about me?

I disguised the pain with a smile.

“My teacher thought that I’d already
accomplished a lot only because I hadn’t failed the exams. Due to
my psychiatric history, the orphanage staff and the school didn’t
believe that I would be able to achieve much beyond that. To be
honest, I thought they were right...until now.”

“Do you have any idea how smart you are,
Melissa?” He pressed my hand. Our touch unleashed an enjoyable and
anticipated electricity. “Your intelligence is well above others
your age and I’m not kidding!” Correctly interpreting my expression
of disbelief, he added, “Believe it! There’s nothing wrong with
you.”

“How is there not? I gave him a smirk. “What
about my hallucinations?

He pursed his lips and breathed hard. I
expected him to say something, but at the last second, I think he
changed his mind. His stormy eyes were fixed on the tablecloth. He
didn’t look at me for a long minute and then he said, “You know
with a word I can...”

“No!” I knew what he was going to say. “I
want to go through all the steps required so I’ll know that I’m not
a failure.”

“But with your talent...”

“No.”

He shook his head and gave me a rueful
smile. “So get ready to study a lot. Your deadlines will be
tight.”

Suddenly I remembered a “little big”
detail.

“Oh!”

“What?”

“My first test was taken in Berlin. The
testing center is based in the school there. I’ll have to go back
and...”

He shook his head. “Christian submitted your
application with the new address. You will take the test here. The
Pine Tree is also accredited to give the tests.”

This Christian was supposed to be a computer
genius. I was suspicious because this super-PDA was his creation?
Here’s a guy I would like to know. The more I heard about his
exploits, the more curious I became.

Wait! Adrian had said “new
address.”
“What is my new
address?”

“The educational system I
am about to enter knows where I’m supposed to be living, but I
don’t.”

Adrian did not flinch or even raise an
eyebrow. His face remained as inscrutable as the death mask of
Pharaoh Tutankhamen.

Oh! Fiddlededee!

He seemed to already be accustomed to my
defensive acidity. Sudden the corners of his mouth turned up
slightly like someone who’s trying hard not to smile.

“Patience is a virtue.” he said.

Ugh!

* * *

Patience is a
virtue
.

Returning to the present... I still smile to
myself, thinking about the way he conducted the whole situation
over lunch. I had to acknowledge that Adrian was a good strategist.
All I had sworn to refuse, I ended up accepting without the
slightest chance to escape. His net was quite subtle...visible, but
subtle. You see that you’re been entangled, but there’s nothing you
can do about it.

I had no idea where Adrian was taking me. I
looked around me, trying to pay attention to the streets we
followed and the turns we made. me. My first guess was that we were
going to the mansion on the Panthers Cliff, but now I wasn’t sure
of anything. Perhaps I’d finally get to see his home?

He fiddled with the stereo buttons and soft
music filled the car.

“Earth to Melissa,” he said.

I looked at his strong, capable,
well-trained hands. They held the steering wheel gently.

“I still cannot believe you celebrated my
birthday.”

“I didn’t. You celebrated,” he laughed.

“You know what I meant!”

Adrian didn’t answer. He just sat there,
laughing, as if it was the funniest moment of his life.

“I must be a clown. You didn’t smile as much
before, right?”

Although I couldn’t see his expression
because of the sunglasses, I could swear that his eyes were mocking
me.

“Very simply, Melissa...you make me happy
and long ago I didn’t feel happy,” he said without trace of mockery
in his voice.

I looked down, blushing with pleasure.

“Speechless?” he asked with false
astonishment. “Wow! It must be a first for you!”

I laughed quietly.

I felt the car slowing down. Adrian pulled
into an area I’d not seen before and parked the car. From there I
could see the outlines of distant hills sheltering the university.
The street insinuated itself among old houses, townhouses, and
small buildings − some brown brick, some stone—neatly aligned in a
manner identical to the upper part of Hadrian’s Wall. The few
differences I observed were the width of sidewalks − a little
larger than the upper town.

I recognized the same bronze lampposts,
which seemed to be a hallmark of the town. They were distributed
through the streets over two types of support: those directly on
the top of long poles and mounted vertically on the sidewalk and
those bolted to the walls of buildings between the arches, formed
by their junction and supported by shorter horizontal poles. In
this case, the lampposts would illuminate the picturesque outdoor
staircase.

The stairs connected long
galleries nestled among the small buildings. The countless number
of galleries, stairways, and buildings formed a surreal maze. If I
were a less romantic girl, I would say that this was the ideal
place for a
Jack the
Ripper
-style ambush.

When looking distractedly
to the other side, I recognized the name McPherson House. It was a
shock to confront the materialization of a
ghost...
the ghost of Christmas
past
. All jokes aside, I felt something
disturbing when confronting the original vision of that
façade—knowing it was immortalized by the striking virtual
projection I had witnessed in the museum. It was unbelievable that
the old house was still in such good condition—a true survivor of a
dead past. Did it still belong to the same family?

I got a fright when Adrian shut the driver’s
door. He walked around the vehicle and opened my door. I cast a
worried glance at the cobblestones. Even though I was wearing my CR
tennis shoes—my new abbreviation for “comfortable and reliable” I
knew I’d have to walk slowly and cautiously. He locked the doors
with the remote control while I waited at the curb.

“Wow! That’s an Alfa Romeo!” someone said
softly, but loud enough to be heard.

“It’s the 8C,” replied the voice of a
girl.

“8 C?”

“Yeah, the
model−
Competizione,
” she said impatiently.

I spun on my heels looking for the source of
the voices. I glimpsed some shadows spying on us through the
bushes.

“Guys! That’s not...Adrian Cahill, is it?
Yes, it’s him! When they told me he was coming here today, I
couldn’t believe it!”

“It’s him, Sally.”

“Sure that’s him! I knew that he was coming
before the rest of you. For real!” boasted one of the girls;
however, she didn’t provide further explanation when the group
became agitated with her.