Page 74 of Prosecco with My Professor
Class ends, and I realize I will have to ask some of my classmates for notes on our homework since I haven’t been paying attention. I pack my things and make my way to the administrative hall. My nerves are unsettled, and something doesn’t feel right, even though I don’t know what it is.
Director Greco’s receptionist ushers me into his office. There is a woman I don’t recognize already at one of the chairs opposite Greco, and she smiles at me while the director gestures to the empty seat. The door clicks shut behind me, and I try not to take it ominously.
Greco folds his hands on the desk and gives me a small smile. “Ms. Chance, good to see you again.”
“Thank you.” I’ve only met him a few times over the months, and I kind of doubt that he recognizes me.
“I had a conversation with Valerius Botanicals this morning. They’ve extended an offer for you as an intern.”
The unease vanishes, and I grin. Valerius is my first choice, an Italian company with an internship that focused on sourcing and purchasing out of their London office. “Really?” I grip the arms of the chair in an effort to control my excitement. “Oh, that’s amazing.”
“Yes.” The faint smile is still there but twists a bit. More…melancholy? Why? This is great news.
“However, we have some concerns about your grades over the business fundamentals terms, specifically in relation to your coursework done under the purview of Professor Offredi.”
The smile slides off my face. “What?”
Greco’s smile is gone, too. “We have reason to believe that there was a bias in reporting, and to be fair to all students, we are going to require some retesting.”
“Retesting?”
“Yes, we will have an additional examination period for you to determine that your coursework was truely up to our standards before we move forward with the internship. Unfortunately, with time constraints and the ending of the fourth term approaching, this won’t be possible until the first week of March.”
“Wait, wait.” My brain is catching up. “Santo can clea–”
Greco stops me. “Professor Offredi”—the rebuke for using his first name is clear—“is no longer involved with the university.”
My mouth hangs open. Santo was fired? Or did he quit? Again, Greco cuts me off before I can ask any of these questions.
“Let’s focus on your education, Ms. Chance. I have a schedule here for the administration of your test and the professors who will proctor them.”
He hands me a sheet of paper with dates and times printed next to the names of three classes. The dates stare up at me, and something clicks in my mind. “When does my internship start?” My voice is weak, and the paper trembles a little when I pick it up.
“Due to the circumstances, I recommended to Valerius that they look for an alternative. Their internship starts immediately following the finals for term four, and your credits will be held until your retesting.”
My internship is gone. “What happens if I score lower on my tests than I did during the term?” There have been months and nearly a dozen courses between my first class and now. I’m not a top student as it is. It’s very likely I don’t remember as much as I need to from these courses.
“We just need you to pass. You’ll have a week between the end of your fourth term and the testing, so you can review the course materials.”
“But…I applied to internships based on the original grades. Valerius made an offer based on those scores.”
“Yes. We have full confidence that if your scores are still passing, we will be able to find a new internship opportunity for you.” Greco gives me a long look. “Is there anything else, Ms. Chance?”
Is there anything else?There’s so much I don’t know where to start, and I just shake my head. Numb, I shuffle out of the office escorted by the woman. We walk down the hallway in silence, and my mind replays the meeting over and over again. Did that just happen? Am I going to lose everything I came to Rome to get?
We turn a corner, and a tug on my elbow stops me. I look down at the woman next to me who releases my elbow and pulls out a business card. “Go home and try to breathe, yes? If you need more options, or if there is something I can do to help, call me.”
I take the card, and she turns around, the sound of her heels clicking away behind me. I flip the card over. It has her name, Nicole Palerma, and beneath that, Dipartimento Risorse Umane/Human Resources.
40
Santo
It’son my fifty-seventh trip back and forth in the hallway that Emma finally arrives home. She’s paler than usual, her eyes unfocused, and her hand grips the stairwell railing tightly as she trudges up the stairs.
She stops when she sees me, and my heart stutters.
“Emma…” I don’t even know what to say. I am no longer a professor, and the walk with my personal effects from my office to the entrance of the university, with Director Greco beside me, was humiliating. Students watched, knowing something was going on, their faces a mixture of confusion and concern. We’d passed several that I knew, that I had mentored through the last few terms, and I had hoped would show a lot of promise, and that stung.
