Alternative Grad School

Chapter 1: The Wrong School

He was in the wrong city. In fact, he was in the wrong time zone. Instead of ocean breezes and palm trees, he was driving down a street of row houses that would likely be covered in snow before too long. Craning his neck, he read house numbers until he found the one that matched his notes.

The grey and blue house stood among many along the quiet street, each with a postage-stamp lawn in front and a short driveway to one side. He pressed the doorbell and waited. When the door opened, he introduced himself.

"Mrs. Coachman?" He said. "I'm Joshua Mitner. We spoke on the phone."

"Yes," she said. "Please, come in."

He stepped through into a sitting room, bookshelves with dusty volumes along one wall. A threadbare braided rug was in the center of the room over a dark wood floor. Mrs. Coachman motioned to one of the two chairs. Joshua stood before one of the chairs and lowered his computer bag to the floor.

"Can I get you anything?" She asked.

"No, thank you," replied Joshua.

She seated herself, and he followed suit, settling into the chair next to his bag.

"I understand you are going to attend Carnegie Mellon this fall. Is that right?"

Josh cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am. I'm starting a master's degree program."

"May I ask why you're looking for housing so late in the summer? The term begins in a few weeks."

He looked down and sighed. "Mrs. Coachman, it's a bit of a story. I'll tell it if you like."

"Please," she said. "I like to know about a student before I agree to take him in."

Nodding, he began. "I was accepted to UCLA, my first choice, and I'd already flown out, secured an apartment, talked to my faculty advisor, signed up for classes, and made a list of textbooks when I got word that my mother was sick. She had been having trouble with muscle weakness for some time, but when I was in LA she had a fall. They did tests and determined that she's suffering from a degenerative muscle disease."

"I'm so sorry," she said.

He continued. "She lives in Wilkes-Barr. She was a single mom, so it was just the two of us. I flew back and found out she was dying. She was having trouble breathing, swallowing, and even sitting up. It had been a few months since I'd checked on her, and I didn't know things had gotten that bad."

He glanced at her to make sure he should continue. "I don't want to be two time zones away. I don't know how long she'll be here, but I want to be close. So, I gave up going to UCLA, contacted CMU, who had accepted me, too, and begged to be admitted, and now I'm here."

"I'm so sorry about your mother, Mr. Mitner" she said.

Josh looked around and assessed what he saw. The house was old but well cared for, the furniture worn but clean, and something you might expect from a friend's grandmother's place. But Mrs. Coachman was not anyone's grandmother.

She was young, perhaps forty, with blonde hair and an athletic build. Her long fingers folded into her lap, showing a wedding band.

He smiled. "You're very kind. Please call me Josh."

"What will you be studying, Josh?"

Josh took a deep breath before answering. "I'm taking a degree in Computational Biology," he said.

"My!" Mrs. Coachman said. "What prepares you for that?"

"I did five years at the University of Chicago for dual degrees in Computer Science and Biology," he said.

"If you stay here, what will you expect from this house?" She asked.

He raised his palms. "Not much. I'll probably not be here much. I'll spend a lot of time in labs and the library. That's the way it was in Chicago. I'm too busy to have friends, at least the kind of friends you might bring home, so that's not going to be a concern. I guess I just need a place to spend time when I'm not at school, a place to do my laundry and a place to sleep. Oh, and I do occasionally eat," he said with a grin.

"You have a car?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"You'll park it on the street," she said. "Rent is as discussed in the email, due the first of the month, with no exceptions. You'll sign a contract that gives us both a tenancy at will. My life is as I like it. If you turn it upside-down, you're gone. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a smile.

"And stop with all the ma'am stuff. Call me Marie," she said.

Chapter 2: Mom

Josh settled into the Coachman house and then turned his attention to Wilkes-Barr. Carol Minter, a once vibrant, intelligent, and self-sufficient soul, had been placed in a hospice care facility, unable to eat or care for herself.

"Hi, Mom," said Josh as he entered her room.

Carol smiled. "Hello, you," she said, though her words were slurred.

She was seated near a window, the light pouring onto her, warming her while she watched television. Josh used the remote to switch off the TV.

The hug he gave her was awkward but heartfelt. As was the kiss on the cheek Carol gave to her son. He pulled a chair nearer to her and held her hand.

"I'm so sorry, Mom, I wasn't here when you needed me," he said, a tear in his eye. "Judy said you took a tumble down the stairs. How long were you there before she found you?"

Carol waved a hand awkwardly. "Not long. Don't worry about that. I was just a little dazed. Nothing was broken."

"Still, Mom, why didn't you tell me things were getting so bad?"

She shrugged. "You were finishing your degree in Chicago, and I felt bad about not attending your graduation. I didn't want to tell you I had a few problems and make you miss it, too."

He hung his head and sighed. "Mom, sometimes I really want to strangle you."

They both laughed, and her eyes brightened, just as they did during his childhood.

"Have you talked to the doctors?" She asked.

"Yes," he said, frowning. "They warned me this is progressing fast. I came as soon as I could."

She squeezed his hand and then released it. "Nothing you do or could have done will change anything here. I had a good life, mostly because I had you. I am so proud of you, Joshua."

He nodded and gave a wan smile. "I love you, Mom. I owe everything to you. You were my tutor from the first day of school. I couldn't have done this well without all the time and attention you gave me. And you made it fun. You always made things fun, Mom."

"Well," she said, "here's something that isn't going to be fun. I began cleaning the house when I found out I was sick. I made some progress, but I've left you with a mess. The dining room table has things that are important: photos, jewelry, and paperwork. The will and other legal documents are there. All you need is a death certificate to take care of things when I'm gone."

"Mom--"

"Quiet," she said. "We have to plan ahead. You can do what you want when I'm gone, but I suggest taking care of the things on the table and calling a junk service to empty the house of everything else. The furniture is worth nothing, and the electronics are old, though I left my computer on the table so you could erase everything when you're done. It all served me well when I was alive, but now its time is over. No guilt; just toss it all. That's what I'd do."

He nodded. "Thank you. I'll do as you ask."

"When do classes begin at CMU?" She asked.

"Tuesday," he said.

Carol paused for a moment, then said, "I like you visiting me, but we had a lifetime together. We both have memories to sustain us. Don't spend every weekend driving here from Pittsburgh. We can video chat a few times a week. It's nearly the same. I want you to concentrate on your schooling. Agreed?"

He pursed his lips, then said, "On one condition: if you need me or want me here, you say something. You tell me. You ask me to come. I don't want to hear later that you wanted me here but didn't say it."

Carol nodded. "Deal." Then she smiled. "So, no apartment this year? You're staying as a boarder in a house?"

Josh shook his head and chuckled. "Not my first choice," he said. "But the house is close to campus, I've got a nice office that used to be her husband's to study in, and she's helped with laundry and cooked for me a few times already. I'm very comfortable."

"What's she like?"

"Who?" Asked Josh, confused.

"Your landlady!" Replied Carol.

"Oh," Josh said, sitting up straight. "She's not what I expected. She's a widow but really young, like, maybe forty. Her husband was a lot older and taught in the Philosophy department. He died last year. That's why she's looking for a little extra cash from a boarder."

"Is she pretty?" Asked Carol with a glint in her eye.

"Mom, don't start," replied Josh.

His mother just looked at him, waiting for an answer.

"OK, yes, she's actually beautiful. She's thin and athletic, runs most days, is blonde, has a great smile, and is smart, funny, and no-nonsense. I was worried at first, but we get along great. I think it's going to be a good place for my first year."

Josh's Mom nodded her approval.

"It probably helps that you are a mature young man, not some kid out of high school," she said.

"God, Mom, I'm twenty-five, not fifty, but yes, that's probably helping," he said. Then he changed subjects again, "Do you need anything from the house? Maybe there's a book you need or something else?"

Carol's facial expression went blank. "No, honey, all that is yours. Please pay my bills and clean out the house. I've left some notes with the things on the table. This place, I'm afraid, is my last stop. I'll not be returning home."

Joshua stood and hugged his mother, tears flowing. "I'm so sorry, Mom."

Carol hugged her son's arms to console him.

Chapter 3: The Fall

"Good afternoon, Josh," said Marie. She glanced up from her book and saw Josh wrestling with a box of books and his laptop bag. "Oh!" She said, standing. "Can I help?"

Josh passed through the front door and bumped his butt against it to close it. "No, thank you. I got it." Then he paused to put the box down before proceeding. "Maybe one thing at a time for the net phase, though."

Marie rose from her chair in the front room to meet him in the entryway as he hung his jacket on the hook. When he turned, he smiled at her, his dirty blond hair still parted perfectly.

Then he began to stare, his face blank and his eyes wide. Marie's everyday attire of an old and comfortable CMU sweatshirt and yoga pants was replaced by a flowing dress with a subtle floral print, perfect for the season and following her lines. Her hair, typically up in austere-librarian fashion or a ponytail, fell around her face, framing it perfectly with her blonde locks dancing around her diamond post earrings.

After a few seconds had passed, Marie tilted her head and said, "Joshua? Are you OK?"

"You're beautiful," he said, almost in a trance.

She smiled warmly. "Thank you."

Josh was finally shaken from his stupor. "Oh, ah, sorry."

She chuckled and raised an eyebrow. "Well, don't tell a woman she's beautiful and then say you're sorry."

He stood straight, and the apologies began to flow. "No, you are beautiful," he said, "but, you know, I don't want to make things weird, and it was just a surprise--not that I thought you weren't beautiful, I did--it's just that, wow, just surprised, and--"

She stood amused while he tried to collect himself. "Yes?" She said, smiling.

Josh glanced down at the box of books. "I should get these books upstairs."

Marie smiled and nodded slowly. "OK."

"Yeah," he said, "I'll just take these upstairs."

She watched him climb the stairs, and when he reached the top and turned the corner, she leaned against the wall and began giggling uncontrollably.

An hour later, Joshua sat at the desk in the study and watched Marie back out of the driveway. He opened his laptop and clicked the link to begin a video chat with his friend, and the screen filled with a familiar face.

"Yo," the face said.

"Hey, John. How's California?" Asked Josh.

John leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Just awful. The other day, I was walking on campus, and six surfing babes in bikinis were walking side-by-side, blocking my way. The traffic out here is a nightmare!"

Joshua closed his eyes and chuckled. "I'm so sorry," he said, "sounds like hell."

"Yeah," said John, "and of course, the weather sucks."

"Horrible," said Josh, "I'm sure you miss the rain and snow, and I'm probably making you homesick just talking about it."

"You have no idea," said John. "Should have come out here like you promised. We're supposed to do all this beer drinking and bikini babe chasing together."

"I know," said Josh. "Sorry."

"How's your Mom?" Asked John. "I was so sorry to hear about Carol. She was like a second Mom to me growing up."

"It all happened so fast," said Josh. "I knew she was having trouble, but this hit her hard. She's not given up but knows she's never going home again. Yesterday Judy texted me that she couldn't eat anymore, so they're feeding her with a tube. Christ."

"Dude, I'm so sorry. And for the record, I understand completely why you bailed on UCLA. CMU is a good school. Maybe you can do your Ph.D. here with me in a few years. I'll save some girls for you," said John.

"I'll probably need the help," said Josh.

"You know you won't meet a girl in the lab or the library, right?" Said John.

Josh shrugged. "I know you keep telling me that."

John rolled his eyes. "OK. New subject. How's living in some old crusty professor's house? Is your ancient landlady giving you the side-eye for coming in after eight o'clock?"

Joshua grimaced. "I think I kind of hit on her today."

Laugher erupted from the laptop. "What? Dude! She's probably a grandmother!"

"No," said Josh, shaking his head, "you've got it all wrong. She's young, maybe forty-ish. Normally she wears sloppy clothes around the house, sweatshirts and jeans, but today she was in this amazing dress. Her makeup and hair were perfect, and I just froze. I mean, she's thin, she runs every day, and before I knew it, I said, 'You're beautiful.'"

"What?" Said John, grinning.

"Oh," said Josh, "it gets much worse. I followed that piece of brilliance with about fifteen seconds of staring, then a series of incoherent apologies before I finally got the fuck out of there."

"So you hit on your landlady," said John.

"Yeah," said Josh, shrugging.

John looked serious for a moment. "Did you mean it?"

"Huh?"

"Dude," said John, "do you still think she's gorgeous? Or were you just surprised and blurted something stupid, like you always do?"

"Yeah, thanks," Josh said sarcastically. "She is beautiful. I think I didn't allow myself to think about it because, you know, I'm trying to get settled into school, this thing with my mom, my whole life being upside-down, and I didn't want to complicate things here in the house. But, yeah, she's drop-dead gorgeous. I'm not kidding."

"Pictures," said John. "I need pictures."

"Get fucked," said Josh. "Come out here in January and take them yourself. I hear it's nice that time of year."

"I miss you, dude," said John, smiling.

"Yeah, miss you, too. Email me when you finally get two of those girls in your bed. That would be worthy of a picture," said Josh.

"I'll send you the ones I already have," said John, chuckling.

"Yeah, right. Talk to you next week."

The room had been Professor Frank Coachman's study during his tenure at CMU. Shelves of dark brown wood were filled with books on Kant, Spinoza, Locke, Hume, Nietzsche, and Wittgenstein. There were pictures on the wall from the great cities of Europe and only a few of Dr. Coachman and his young wife.

Josh sat at the large table, his books stacked to one side, reading and taking notes. In some ways, it was a continuation of his time in Chicago, reading, writing, and thinking with his head down, oblivious to the world around him. Time had no meaning when he was deep within it. His only concession to reality was to switch on the reading light once the sun had set.

Marie appeared at the door to the study carrying a tray. "Joshua, can I come in?"

Rousted from his trance, Josh stood and turned to the door. "Yes, please," he said.

She put the tray on the table and motioned to the second chair. "May I?" She said.

"Of course," and he held the chair for her.

"A gentleman," she said. "I could get spoiled." After Josh reseated himself, she said, "Tea?"

He nodded, and she poured the tea. "Thank you," he said, "this is very thoughtful." Then, after a beat, he said, "Marie, I don't want to have things be awkward between us."

She held her teacup, but her face betrayed nothing.

"You are a beautiful woman," he said, "but this afternoon, you were stunning. I'm not the smoothest character around."

She couldn't help but smile at that confession.

"But," he continued, "I was extra clumsy today. We have a business relationship, and I'd like to believe we're friends, but I have no business commenting on your life."

She nodded, then said, "I quite enjoyed it."

His look of confusion seemed to tickle her.

She continued, "A young and handsome man complimented me today. It's been a long time since that's happened."

Off balance, Josh changed the subject. "This was his study?"

"Yes," she said, "my husband spent many hours here."

Joshua couldn't make eye contact but asked, "I don't mean to pry, but what can you tell me about him?"

She placed her teacup upon its saucer and folded her hands in her lap. The beautiful dress shimmered in the subdued light. "I grew up here in Pittsburgh. My father was a Professor of Philosophy at Pitt, and I took my English Literature bachelor's and master's degrees there. One of my father's former students came back to teach at CMU, and he would come around to dinner. I was twenty-five, and he was thirty-eight. He asked me to marry him at some point, and I agreed."

"Were you happy?" Asked Josh.

"For a time," she said, looking around the study. "But after a few years, I felt more like staff than a wife, doing his laundry, tending his house, hosting his parties. When he died a year ago, I missed him but also lost my social connections. Wives of faculty have a purpose with charitable events and socials, but widows don't really have a place. My monthly book club is one of the last respectable places where I can show up. So, I make the most of it," she said, motioning to the dress.

Josh smiled despite himself. "That dress certainly made an impression on me."

"I brought you some tea as a peace offering. I'm afraid I enjoyed our encounter today at your expense. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you," she said.

He looked directly into her eyes and said, "I meant it. Every word. I wasn't embarrassed for saying it as much as I was embarrassed for doing it so badly. And, please, if I do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, please say something."

She leaned to him and kissed him gently on his cheek. "Goodnight, Josh."

He smiled with relief. "Goodnight, Marie."

Chapter 4: A Loss

Josh received the call late on a Friday evening in October. "I'll be there in the morning," were his only words. Stopping in a coffee shop on campus, he composed emails to his professors, department chair, and study partners that he was heading to Wilkes-Barr to deal with the death of his mother.

The light in the front room was still on when he parked in front of the house. He slipped quietly into the front entranceway in case Marie was sleeping, but he found her waiting for him. The look on his face told her what she needed to know.

"Oh, Josh, I'm so sorry," she said.

He hung his coat on the hook and turned to her as she wrapped her arms around his back, holding him gently. Josh took a deep, ragged breath and closed his eyes.

"I'm leaving early in the morning," he whispered. "I'll be back Sunday."

She released him and said, "Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head. "No, thank you." Then he looked at her briefly before dropping his eyes and walking up the stairs to bed.