An Act of Love by Nancy Thayer

cheeks.
    “I understand.” Linda kept her voice impassive.
    “So we kissed, and I liked it, and she liked it, I know she did. I mean, a guy knows. So we were near trees, you know? And I just kind of—” Jorge coughed. “I kind of leaned against her so that her back was against the tree, and I put my arms around her. I didn’t touch her anywhere, you know? I just wanted to hold her. But suddenly she freaked. She just went apeshit. She shoved me away, she yelled, ‘What are you doing? What do you think you’re doing? What kind of girl do you think I am?’ I couldn’t calm her down. I tried to, but she just was, like, deranged. Like that!” He snapped his fingers. “She went from romantic to nuts. I tried to talk to her, but she was crying and saying stuff, I can’t even remember the stuff, she was saying it so fast, I think some of it might have been religious stuff. Being clean, wanting to be clean.” Jorge looked directly at Linda, his dark eyes concerned. “She ran off. She ran in the direction of her dorm. I started to follow, then decided not to. I guess I thought I had overstepped some kind of boundary. But honest to God I don’t think I did anything wrong.”
    Linda studied his face. “Is that all?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “You didn’t … have sex with her.”
    “No. I swear.”
    Linda had been standing, but now she sank into a brown leather sofa patched inplaces with silver electrical tape. “Have you heard anything about Emily? Anything else at all that might explain or even give us a clue about what’s going on with her? We’re so worried, and we just can’t figure her out.”
    Jorge settled into a chair across from her, and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “I know she’s been more serious this year than last year. Intense. But that happens a lot. I mean, each year you learn more stuff you have to deal with in life. I think she was finding her classes more difficult. Or not as much fun. She was more quiet.”
    “Do you think she was doing drugs?”
    “No. Absolutely not. She’s not interested in that stuff. Besides, usually drugs make you skinny, and she was—” His face darkened with embarrassment.
    “She’d gained quite a bit of weight over the past two months,” Linda agreed. After a moment’s thought, she decided: “So Sunday night is why Bruce tried to beat you up.”
    Jorge nodded. “Right. I mean, people saw Emily running from me. And I know she was upset. Zodiac told me. But she didn’t say why. I mean, I only kissed her. I guess Bruce put two and two together and got eight.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Hey. A guy’s bound to be protective of his sister.”
    They sat a few moments in a broody silence, then Linda rose. “I’m grateful to you for talking with me, Jorge. I really appreciate it.”
    “No problem.”
    “If you think of anything else, will you call me?”
    “Sure.”
    “My phone number—”
    “It’s in the facebook.”
    “Oh. Right.” Linda let herself scrutinize his face. “You seem older than the other students.”
    Jorge smiled, abashed. “I am. Two years older. Because of my English. It’s okay now, but it held me back for a couple of years.”
    “I think your English is superb.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Thank you, for talking to me.”
    “I hope, you know, that everything turns out okay.”
    “Yes. So do we.”

    The grounds of the campus were quiet as Linda cut through the quad toward Shipley Hall. The dorm was empty, yet the air seemed to shimmer, so full of the laughter and calls and emotions of young women that particles of hope and haste seemed to hang suspended, like dust motes, in the large bright rooms.
    Someone had gone to the trouble of making Emily’s bed. The green duvet was perfectly aligned and smoothed, the pillows plumped, and next to them lay a pile of envelopes.
    Picking one up, Linda saw that it was addressed to Emily, and sealed. Running a fingernail beneath the flap, carefully she opened it. A long white