Page 129 of Give & Take

“My mom loves that movie,” I explain. “By extension, I do too. There’s this scene where Alex has to Audition to get into school and she does this very unconventional dance and?—”

Professor Chan narrows her eyes. “Mr. LaForest, have you come here to discuss movies, or defend this dissertation you insisted we drop everything for and read in a matter of weeks?”

“Days, if we’re being specific,” Professor Jones says.

“Now, Mary,” my advisor, Professor Lowe says. “Tell me you didn’t tear through this paper like a John Grisham meets Michael Crichton novel.”

Professor Chan turns up her nose but sighs, turning back to me. “Tell me at least this introduction has a point, because at this moment, you’re doing this work a disservice.” She taps the thick stack of paper on the table before her.

“In the film,” I say, slipping my hands in my pocket as I begin to pace, “Alex, the main character, performs an unconventional dance,”

“So you said,” Professor Jones says drily.

“And,” I continue, “of course wins over the panel ofjudges despite her lack of formal dance training, her choice of song, her style of movement, and her passion, which is not restrained as is normally the case in formal ballet. In fact, there’s quite a delightful scene in which one of the judges blows his nose to the beat of the song.”

Professor Jones, who’s pulled out a handkerchief, pauses with it halfway to his face.

Professor O’Malley lets out a boom of a laugh. “Oh that’s too rich. Did you time this?” He’s delighted. “Jones, you must have been in on this joke.”

Professor Jones stuffs the handkerchief in his pocket. “I most certainly did not.”

O’Malley slaps his hand on the table. “Incredible.”

With O’Malley and my advisor, I’m 2 for 4. If I don’t fully flub this.

“The point I’m making, Professors,” I say, but direct my comment to Chan and James,” is that overcoming opposition and succeeding despite the odds may be one of the most common arcs in modern and historical literature. But eliciting joy from ones opponents—truly reforming their position not just of you but of themselves—that’s where the reward lies. In this paper, you’ll see that using the works of Tolstoy, I’ve examined how attachment to success and wealth is not of primary importance to us in our lives. And yet attachment to love is worthy of all the riches in the world.”

I launch into my defense, telling them about how Tolstoy believed love only mattered when you sacrificed yourself. When you forget yourself for the sake of another, that’s true love.

My dissertation is seven hundred and twenty-ninepages long. I know because I wrote six hundred and fourteen of those pages at night every night, into the wee hours of the morning, beginning the moment I knew I’d fallen for Lana.

I would have quit this degree for her in an instant. The minute I knew I needed to convince Lana I wanted to be a part of her life forever, that was my first instinct.

But I also knew Lana would never go for that. She’d hold herself responsible.

And because finishing this dissertation was as therapeutic for me understanding my love for Lana as it was important for her that I finish, it felt easy to write.

I explain all this to my panel, using the impassioned language I don’t need to pull out of anywhere but my whole chest. Because I don’t need to convince them I took this degree and made a meal out of it. I only need to convince them that I finally learned what love really is.

And that’s not hard to do at all.

I’m just nearing the conclusion of the discussion portion and heading into questions when I feel a strange itch on my thigh.

It’s insistent, and I only realize after a few moments that it’s my phone buzzing. I’d been so deeply into what I was talking about, each of the professors leaning forward, eyes never leaving mine, that I hadn’t registered real life was carrying on around me.

“Excuse me,” I say, pulling my phone out to turn it off.

But on screen, I see the caller ID says “Sunshine.”

I look back at the group, who are slowly descending into frowns. “I…have to take this,” I say.

Lowe’s jaw falls open. James sputters. Professor Chan actually laughs.

“He’s serious,” O’Malley says, as I answer the call, turning my backs on them.

“Hey,” I say.

“Raph?”

---