Hadrian's Wall (75 page)

“Genius? She’s not a genius!” Violet let out
an incredulous laugh.

I was feeling increasingly humbled. The
ghosts of the past had unexpectedly emerged from the closet. I felt
the onset of dizziness.

“I saw her drawing...on Sunday,” David
replied. “And I confess that in my opinion, someone who can make
drawings like hers can only be an artistic genius.” He looked at me
and smiled. Violet was even more grim.

I smiled back and whispered, “Thank
you.”

David led us quickly down the sidewalk in
order to pass the porch. It widened as we advanced until it covered
the entire inner area. We went through a spectacular fountain at
its center where the sun’s rays fell upon the waters, causing light
effects in tanks decorated with colorful mosaics. However, the sky
seemed slightly darker because of the glass dome covering the
entire courtyard inside the walls.

“Someone told me that when they hold the
orientation party for freshmen here, the dome protects people from
the harmful rays of the sun,” said David. “Don’t ask me how or
which way, because I know nothing about it. All I know is that here
there is no need to use sunscreen nor fear sunstroke.”

And in the case of the
somber, they do not need to protect their eyes from glare,
I thought with a dose of skepticism.

Along the central street there was a
succession of square buildings covered with brown bricks. All were
the same, with a curious form of castle tower. I counted five
little “castles” on each side.

There were entrances on the sides of the
wall directly connected to the rear of buildings. All had a similar
façade to the entrance porch, only more discreet. The decorative
bands and characters on the walls were concentrated just around the
railing of tall windows and access doors.

The sidewalk was linked to the entryway
steps through paths surrounded by plants. Where the pavement ended
and the garden began lay the nameplates of the departments.

As we walked, I was listing them: Integrated
Action Council, Council of International Activities; Committees;
Guest Service Center; Directorate of Admissions; Department of
Interdisciplinary & Special Majors Division, etc... They were
distributed equidistantly from a cluster of buildings that occupied
the final part of the wall, from one end to the other.

Wide glass doors dominated the front face of
the Assembly. The staircase widened to a large passageway in front
of what seemed to be a bunch of platforms.

“That’s the rectory,” Delilah explained,
following my gaze. “It’s where Student Support, the General Council
of the University and of the College are based. The space also
houses a shopping center with bookstores, a computer store, and one
bank that’s open 24 hours.”

No movies theaters? Would that be asking too
much?

From where I stood I could see that this
huge block of buildings which expanded farther back, following the
route of the wall.

Mmm... I think I’ll have to postpone my
visit to the rectory for another day. Actually, I need more time to
explore whole place. Right now I was interested in finding the
library and the Arts Department where my interview would take
place. I was worried that it was nowhere near where we were.

I turned on my heel in order to look for
them and ended up stumbling upon two other buildings that did not
match either the brick buildings or the façade of the rectory, but
not so that layout became unbalanced. These structures help to
break up the “medieval” looking environment.

They were situated opposite each other,
midway between the porch and the rectory. To confirm, I re-counted
the buildings, starting at the entrance. That’s right. The
“castles” were divided into two on each side.

Obviously, I knew what was housed in the
front building. No waiting for Delilah’s explanation this time. It
was a cafeteria in the best Italian films style from the ‘50s. By
the way, it was crowded now—both inside and on the terrace. Most
human students quickly devoured their breakfast before class.

I spun on my heels again. The other building
behind me was like an architectural puzzle.

“We gotta go,” David whispered to Abby. Then
he turned to me with a friendly smile and aid, “Freshmen
participate in a mentoring program and we’re in the finals. We
can’t miss it.”

“Sure, you go on,” I said. “I’ll be fine!
I’m not intending to compete in any marathon today,” I
grimaced.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay here alone?”
David asked. He seemed genuinely concerned.

“Sure!” I responded enthusiastically,
despite Violet’s persistent leering eyes.

And to think I thought those girls were so
nice at the beginning!

“See you.” David and Abby nodded before they
departed. Delilah stayed.

“You can go too,” I said.

“Yeah, I will shortly.” She looked askance
at Violet, as if afraid to leave me alone with her. “I still have a
little more time than they do.”

Violet snorted and looked at the display on
her phone.

“Well, well...I also have to go—and for the
same reason.” She turned to me with a stupid smile. “Too bad they
can’t stay longer...”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned to
Delilah and said softly, “Dells, darling...you have no more time
than we do. Did you forget that we’re on the same program as David
and Abby?”

Delilah grimaced as if to say, ‘Why don’t
you just worry about yourself?’ but instead she said, “I intend to
be late, so what?’

Violet shrugged, a little intimidated by the
aggressive response and walked away. Janice nodded quickly and ran
after her.

We stayed there for some time, watching them
disappear into the crowd.

“Bitches!” Delilah said.

I laughed, shocked at her outburst. She
sighed. With me, the story always the same—I attracted the
animosity of others wherever I was. What would Dr. Barringer say
about that? Maybe it’s better not to know.

Well, no use thinking about it now. I
decided to look for something that would distract me, which is the
most effective tactic I know to dispel my depressing thoughts. I
looked up and saw the dome of the mysterious building above the
cafeteria. It was big, second in size to the rectory. Golden
columns circumvented the building. The entryway was recessed into a
covered area, converging in an Oriental-looking high port. The
windows were also high and rounded, with stained glass, but there
were other, small squares. The façade around them was decorated
with rectangular tiles.

The sign on the door caught my attention.
“Ogham.”

“It means “tree alphabet” in Celtic
language. I googled it,” Delilah said. Because I continued to stare
at her, she added, “It’s the name of the library. The building
strategically combines the general library with the observatory
used for the astronomy course. See that big golden dome on top?”
Delilah pointed unnecessarily. “It opens for the telescope.”

“Oh!”

“I think I’m on another planet after
all.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, seeing the
confusion on my face. “Just don’t pinch me again, okay? Listen,
Mel, I’ve really gotta go.”

She adjusted the strap of
her backpack in which she carried her laptop. She turned to look at
me like she was abandoning a little dog on the edge of a highway. I
gestured for her to get going. I really wanted to be alone, but
first, I needed to reassure her that I’d be able to find my way
home without her help.
And if I can’t, I
can always call my bodyguard.

Jokes aside, I’d find a way to be successful
in my first adventure across campus without having to bother any
dark god.

“Just past the shops, inside is the rectory,
where you’ll find the panoramic restaurant,” she said. “It has an
incredible view of the Nemeton woods and the other university
buildings. The studios of the Arts School are also in that
direction.”

Finally, Delilah realized that she was
chattering instead of heading off to her class. She pursed her
lips, looking at me with a hint of remorse and then she impulsively
hugged me.

“I’m sorry for what you heard me say the
other day. You’re not a dull girl...” She looked at me in the eye.
“But you still need to learn to dress better.”

That said, she walked away, not realizing
that what she said upset me. It wasn’t enough that I felt stressed
about my upcoming interview, now I had to worry about how I looked
too? I critically evaluated the clothes I chose so carefully last
night. Is what I’m wearing that bad? Well, no one’s looking
directly at me. It’s not like I’d put on purple pants with green
balls and a pink shirt with yellow stripes. I’d even made a big
concession by wearing a very chic blouse that Charity had given me!
So...

Suddenly, my phone rang. It startled me
because I still hadn’t gotten used to having it with me constantly,
like a tick. I almost dropped it before I answered. My heart was in
my throat, imagining that could be Adrian! But then came the
anticlimax—it was Stephen. I was disappointed.

“Don’t attribute any importance to what she
says. She’s a bored little thing...in addition to being a killjoy.
Delilah and Charity are a perfect pair. Both have the sensibility
of a stone and look at life as if it’s an eternal runway.”

“Stephen, you were eavesdropping.” I
couldn’t believe it. “What a bad thing to do!”

“I’m sorry, but from where I am, it’s
impossible not to hear you, girls... accidentally, of course...” He
paused for effect. “Be cautious, Melissa. Forget the Asian
fraternities. Forget Joe Verano. Just focus on your studies.”

I was shocked. He’d listened to everything
we talked about on the bus!

“What happened to Joe Verano?” I asked in
one breath.

“I am not authorized to talk about that with
you. And before you ask me another question that I cannot answer, I
suggest you talk to Adrian.”

Super!
Ah, but there were things that Stephen could explain to me. A
strategic change of subject might help me catch some indirect
answers. Worth a try...

“You already knew about the mural?” I
asked.

“Of course, otherwise, I couldn’t be
considered the best bodyguard in the world. Don’t you think?

“What a modest man!” I said.

He gave a short, dry laugh and then resumed
the serious tone. “You look great and your interview will be a
success.”

The line went dead, but I stood there for a
long time with it pressed against my ear. When I realized that I
was standing in the driveway like a statue, looking like a fool, I
closed the mouthpiece and put it inside my hand bag.

This call means that if Stephen wants to he
can hear every word, every sigh, every idea that I say...

“Does he tell Adrian everything?” I said
aloud.

The phone rang again. I started laughing and
began counting from one to five before answering.

“The answer is no,” he said. I don’t usually
waste my time watching the affairs of the girls.” Have you had an
opportunity to hear Delilah and Abby chatting?”

“Sometimes.”

“So, you should know what torture it
is..clothing, manicures, hair, makeup, who’s dating who, who’s
fooling who, the last video of Lady Gaga...and to top it off,
Delilah has nothing original to say about the people she thinks are
vampires. Terrible!”

And he said he wasn’t paying attention...I
couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s not funny,” he objected, laughing.
“I’m usually too busy taking care of your security perimeter. I
have no time to get distracted by such nonsense.”

Stephen paused a moment and when he spoke
again he’d resumed his usual cold tone. “Stay calm, Melissa. I’m
not a messenger boy for Adrian. He wouldn’t like that, nor does he
expect me to be. He just wants you to be safe and happy.”

In that order?

“At times I heard something, as now, purely
by accident.” He cleared his throat, making it clear to me that was
not accidental, nor was it just this once.

“All right,” I said. “Now stop calling me to
give me unsolicited responses to my comments! If you hear me,
please pretend not to hear. I need to focus on my interview.”

“Yes, ma’am. By the way, everything on your
list has been provided. A visit to South Portland is no longer
necessary,” he said lightly. He hung up before I could think of
something to say.

EPILOGUE

Stunned, I stopped in the doorway.

The Ogham Gallery was
richly decorated with paintings representing the trajectory of a
god or a pharaoh. I read somewhere that illustrations of this type
were called frescoes. The Egyptians used them to tell about the
daily life of the illustrious
decedent
through such paintings. They
also spoke something about life and death—parts of the same cycle
that was always renewing itself.

Ahead, organized columns
of hieroglyphs enclosed the magic, living word capable of
prodigious
achievements. In my view,
this combination of symbols and images could
never be fully deciphered, because experts lacked the everyday
culture of that folk to contextualize it.

I had my own theories, of
course. The frescoes could well equate to modern music videos,
mobilizing people through their most instinctive reactions—not only
serving to immortalize the creatures and their deeds, but also to
bring into our world that which cannot be touched: the condensation
of ghosts that now hover over people’s imaginations.

The world portrayed in
Egyptian art sought a balance between the driving forces in human
morality—more than just aesthetic exposure of the dominant social
classes. However, scenarios like these in front me were just
objects frozen in time—ways of living, feeling and dreaming,
which
history
reinterprets from time to time according to the dictates of
the time. Well, that was just one theory among many... Hardly
interest the professors.