Classes had felt different in many ways after Mother’s death. And after I gave up on the idea of having Tegan in my life, everything felt even more depressing. The worst times were eating breakfast alone at home, coming home after school to an empty house, and going to bed at night. It was difficult to get to sleep, and the nightmares made success unappealing. I took to staying up very late, playing piano; music took me to a place where I didn’t feel guilt or responsibility or obligation.
I was sure that at least some of my instructors noticed me dozing in class. My eyes just would not stay open. My grades suffered further. I even skipped some classes, if I felt especially unprepared.
One afternoon, avoiding the medieval history class for two reasons—being unprepared, and knowing Tegan w
