Compliments by Mari K. Cicero Page B

who is beaming at her from the bench—to this shindig. I smile at her and hope the gesture communicates that I’m happy to be here regardless of how it came to be. During dinner, I’m able to toss a few comments into the conversation, making sure to respond on the tail of whatever one of my targeted faculty says. By the time dinner is done, I’m positive my conversational skills have made up for my delayed arrival. I take my coffee out to the balcony and corner Prof. Lamertus there, talking for almost fifteen minutes. He seems honestly interested in my research, and ends our conversation by asking me to say my name again, repeating it back to me for verification.
    “Let me walk you downstairs,” Prof. Harrison offers when I pull on my jacket at ten-fifteen.
    Prof. Ferris, who is also trying to go, but whose invitee seems reluctant to get the hint and let her out of their conversation, looks over at me. “If you wait a few minutes, I can walk down with you, Robin.”
    Prof. Harrison’s hands file into his pockets. “It’s really no trouble, Joanna. She’s just parked out in front of the building, and I’m going to go home after I see her out.”
    Prof. Ferris eyes me from top to tip. I’m not sure what she thinks will happen. Maybe that we’ll exchange gossip about her in the elevator?
    “Okay,” she finally exhales. She comes forward and shakes my hand. She’s always been kind, but now she’s down right affable and personal beyond the norm. The wine has a pleasant effect on her. “I’ll have two more placements for you this coming week, but later. Thursday or Friday, probably. I’ll send you details on Monday?”
    “Sure.” I shake her hand before leaving.
    There’s an awkward silence that grows like bacteria as Prof. Harrison and I wait for the elevator. The bones of the building are old, and I suppose its arteries are as well. As we step in, I turn to him.
    “I’m sure I’m okay if you just want to get out on your floor. It’s a gated community and you said the private security, I think I’m safe.”
    He almost acts like he didn’t hear me or doesn’t take me seriously. “Even in safe communities, bad things can happen. Just let me make sure you get in your car okay, and I’ll go right back up. I’m pretty tired, too. Need to get to bed.”
    His eyes do look a little bloodshot, and now I feel terrible for being a burden. As soon as we’re off the elevator, my feet do double time. I don’t want to keep Harrison beholden any longer than necessary. We’re about three steps out of the building when I look across the street and see … nothing.
    As in, not my car.
    Prof. Harrison puts it into words before I’m able. “Wasn’t your car right there?”
    I look between him and the rest of the street, as though I half-expect to find that instead of missing, someone’s somehow magically moved it down the block. My fingers thread through my hair as I come close to scalping myself. “Oh my God. Someone stole my car. What am I going to do? The police. I have to call the police.”
    “Calm down, Miss Lewis.” Prof. Harrison passes me a look of disappointment before pulling his cell from his pocket. “I know the number of the tow company security uses. Let me call and see if they’ve been out here tonight. It’s likely that one of my self-righteous neighbors got a little full of themselves and their sense of civic duty.”
    I feel like I’ve been wheeled into emergency surgery and my stomach removed as I listen. Though the one-sided conversation leads me to believe that Prof. Harrison’s theory is right, my liver is yanked out the next moment when I hear him repeat back over the phone “pick it up from downtown” and “three hundred dollar fee”.
    When Prof. Harrison ends the call, he looks one hundred times more chipper than I feel. “See, told you. Just towed, not stolen. Nothing to worry about.”
    Part of me wants to yell at him instead of thank him. His stupid suggestion to