Pieces (9 page)

“A lady I knew a few years ago taught me how to cook,” she said while peeling away the top layer of plastic wrap. “She was Italian and she made the most delicious things. I used to hate mushrooms, and now I love them. Her food was that good.” She smiled. “Although I still hate seafood. She couldn’t seem to push that on me while I was there.”

“While you were where?”

Naomi spotted the bowl of marinade Becca had prepared. She set it by the chicken and carefully dropped each piece into the mixture. “I know this is going to sound insane,” she said, “but haven’t you ever put together my name and hometown and a big story about a kidnapping a few years ago? I thought you’d put two-and-two together pretty fast, being in law school and all. It was a major case. I got national coverage.”

Becca took a step back. “The CEO story? That big software company?”

After washing her hands, Naomi reached for the box of plastic wrap so she could cover the marinade. “Yeah, that one.”

“You were kidnapped? That CEO’s daughter is
you
?”

“Yeah.”

“And you never told me?”

Naomi carried the marinade to the fridge and set it on the top shelf. Most of the shelves were empty, but Becca had bought Coke. Naomi grabbed a can and opened the lid. “I thought you’d figure it out,” she said with a shrug.

“No, not really. I remember the parents ... I mean your parents, and some hype about them neglecting you or something.” She tugged on a piece of her hair. “And some controversy over one of the kidnappers and ... you.” Her face blanched. “You were in love with him and he went to prison.”

“Yeah, crazy, huh?”

“Are you still in love with him?”

Naomi took a sip of Coke and stared at the kitchen floor. It was wood, and she noticed a fine layer of dust along the edges near the cabinets. “Yeah, I am. He’s out on parole and I went to see him. I wasn’t supposed to because he’s not released yet and he’s not supposed to have any contact with his ...,” she made quotation marks with her fingers, “... victim.”

“Oh, wow.” Becca looked around for a moment and then walked to the table and pulled out a chair. She sat down and stared at Naomi as if she were a complete stranger.

Naomi swallowed another sip of Coke. “I don’t understand why everyone acts this way when they find out. This is why I didn’t tell you about it in the first place. Just because I was kidnapped doesn’t mean you have to treat me differently.”

“But he’s a
criminal
and you’re in
love
with him. So that’s why you never go out on dates. What about that guy you went out with on your birthday?”

“Finn?” She laughed, trying to make it sound natural. It came out shaky. “Oh, he’s just a friend and it wasn’t a date.” She turned away, afraid she was blushing. There was no way she was going to tell Becca about the kiss.

“Huh, well, this is incredible, Naomi. I had no idea. So the whole cooking thing, you learned all that while you were captive? What kidnappers teach their hostage how to cook?”

“I wasn’t a hostage. They wanted to keep me. Forever.”

Silence.

Naomi turned around to see Becca’s mouth hanging open. “And no, Evelyn didn’t teach me everything about cooking. She taught me a few things, enough for me to start learning on my own once I was ... once it was all over and I was back home. And I’ve learned a lot here too.” She clapped her hands together. “So, for the chicken, when it’s finished marinating, put it in a skillet on medium-high to sear it until it’s golden. Then flip it and do the same on the other side. Then get your thermometer and—”

Becca raised her hands as if surrendering. “Holy shit, Naomi, I don’t care about the chicken. You were kidnapped. Don’t you want to talk about it?”

She shouldn’t have told her.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it. I told you so you would know, and that’s it. And if you ever tell Finn, I will kill you.”

“He doesn’t know?”

“He knows I have a boyfriend, but that’s all.”

“A boyfriend in prison.”

“He’s on parole now, not in prison. And he might have done bad things in the past, but he’s different now. He’s changed.” She set her Coke can on the counter and walked out of the kitchen.

“Wait! I was going to tell you to join us for dinner!” Becca called out. “Derek’ll be here in an hour. You can invite Finn.”

Naomi didn’t look back. She went upstairs and slipped into her bedroom, shutting the door before she stretched out on her stomach across the bed. It was stupid to get angry with Becca for judging Jesse, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart felt like it was on fire anytime someone assumed he was some terrible criminal and she was stupid to love him. Maybe he had been an awful person. Maybe he still was and she couldn’t see it. She hoped she hadn’t lost that much of her sanity, but as she looked around at her piles of unfinished art projects and the stacks of history, art, and language books on her shelf from previous semesters, she wondered how sane she truly was. Other students lived on campus and got drunk at parties. Other students dated and graduated and got married and led normal lives. She wanted to marry an ex-con and pretend being kidnapped had been a normal thing she could forget about. Burying her face in her quilt again, she held back her tears and waited for the pain to ebb away into nothingness. It usually didn’t take long.

T
HE NEXT
few days were filled with settling back in and registering for classes. Every semester, Naomi sat in her bedroom with her laptop and registered online, but this time when she tried, an error message popped up that said she needed to visit the campus registrar in person. A little buzz started in her head. As she drove to campus and found a parking spot, the buzzing grew louder.

Failure,
it hissed.
You. Screwed. Up.

Her heart was pounding by the time she reached the building and stood in line. She knew what they were going to tell her, and she didn’t want to hear it. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was overreacting. She readjusted her backpack on her shoulders and looked down at her sweating palms. She wasn’t wrong.

“I-I can’t seem to register online and it said I needed to come here,” she told the lady at the window.

“Alright. Let’s look up a few things.”

Naomi gave the woman her student ID. As she waited, she looked at all the lines around her. There were so many people she didn’t know, so many she didn’t even want to know. When she looked back on her life, that part of herself hadn’t changed because of her kidnapping. She had been a loner in high school, and she was a loner now.

The lady at the window looked up from her computer. “You’re welcome to register,” she said with a smile, “but you’ll need to do it with an advisor here.” She looked at the monitor and squinted. “It looks like they might want to speak with you about your GPA and your scholarship.”

Annoyed at the unnecessary step to be told to go see her advisor, Naomi nodded and left. It was after one o’clock before she could get in to see her advisor in another building.

“Naomi, hello!”

Kate Ramirez was one of the only people Naomi had voluntarily told about her kidnapping. It seemed necessary for the person guiding the future of her education to understand the problems of her past. Kate urged her to sit down and pulled up Naomi’s file.

“I’m surprised you remember me,” Naomi said with a nervous laugh. “You must see hundreds of students a year.”

Kate winked at her before turning her attention back to the monitor. She was young, probably in her late twenties, with black hair like Becca’s, only it wasn’t dyed. She had thick bangs cut straight across her forehead. Naomi focused on her silky yellow shirt with little bows tying off the sleeves.

“Of course I remember you,” Kate said with a laugh. “You’re an exceptional student, and you’re unique.”

Naomi wasn’t sure if she should be offended. The way Kate said “unique” clearly meant,
like Id forget someone with such an interesting past.
Because it wasn’t her exceptional abilities as a student that set her apart. Harvard was full of exceptional students.

“So,” Naomi said slowly, leaning forward, her chair creaking. “It’s my grades, isn’t it? I’ve lost my scholarship?” A bitter taste entered her mouth.

Kate stopped scrolling down the screen and turned to face Naomi. “Well, yes.” She winced and shook her head. “You were doing great, and then you turned off. Your professors noted a lack of coursework submitted and you graded poorly on every exam.” She folded her arms. “Did something happen? A death in the family? An accident of some sort?”

“No, and it’s not the scholarship I’m worried about—I have money in my account to cover tuition, if I need.” She looked down at her hands and started scratching at a spot on her wrist. Her mother might kill her if she drained her account for tuition. It was a lot of money, and she wouldn’t have much left to pay for anything else during the semester.

Kate raised an eyebrow, making it disappear behind her bangs. “This is a renewable scholarship, Naomi, and it’s merit-based. Winning it was a huge accomplishment, and I would hate to see you lose it. If you write an appeal letter, you may be able to get it back. It appears they’ve put the scholarship on probation for a short period of time.” She swept a hand across her bangs, feathering them a little. “And this isn’t only about tuition money. If you want to get anywhere in this institution, you must keep your grades at a certain level. You know all of this.”

The disappointment in Kate’s expression made Naomi look away. She could hear muffled voices from the office next door. She shifted in her chair. “I’ve never ... I’ve never had bad grades before,” she said, her cheeks burning. “I don’t know what to do.”

The smallest hint of a smile played on Kate’s lips. “You wouldn’t be the first student I’ve heard say that. It isn’t the end of the world, but I’m afraid to say you’ve lost your scholarship for the time being—unless you appeal— and you must retake the courses you failed, whether you care about the scholarship or not. I would say you could take makeup exams, but there were also assignments you didn’t turn in, as well as some attendance issues.”

Naomi felt queasy. “So I failed them? Completely?”

Kate scrunched her nose. “Did you look up your grades when they were posted?”

“No, I was ....”

Distracted. Obsessed. Too busy worrying about Jesse.

Kate sniffed and looked at her monitor. “You failed your art history class. Your final was a large portion of your grade. You passed the rest, but not with satisfactory grades. I suggest retaking the courses.”

Naomi held her breath and gripped the edge of her chair. “That will put me behind, and I have to pay for them again, right?”

Kate nodded. “Of course, but with no scholarship this time. This is why when you came in your freshman year I told you how important it was to keep up your grades.” Her arms were still folded, and her stern expression hardened for a moment before melting into pity. “As I said before, the funding institution may make an exception if something in your personal life took precedence over your grades. Is that what happened?”

Naomi realized this was the second time Kate had asked the question. Scratching at the spot on her wrist again, she mumbled, “I don’t think what happened would count as a convincing appeal.”

“Does this have to do with your kidnapping?”

Naomi looked up. “Um, kind of. I found out Jesse ... you know, the guy who—”

Kate smiled. “Yes, I know who you’re talking about.”

“I found out he’s on parole. My mother told me right before the end of the semester, and I couldn’t think of anything else but him. My world turned upside down. I didn’t expect him to get out so soon.” She rubbed her hands on her knees. “I know it sounds stupid. I know I can’t get back my scholarship just because I fell in love with someone.”

Kate frowned. “You might be surprised, Naomi. I can e-mail you the paperwork for an appeal. Think about what you can do to convince them you were having a hard time. You see a counselor for the kidnapping, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Get her to write up a statement for you. Do whatever you can to get the money back.”

Naomi nodded and stood from her chair. She wanted to be home.

“And if you want to retake your courses, I can get you signed up,” Kate said, leaning forward as if to grab Naomi and sit her back down. Instead, she looked at her outstretched arm and lowered it. “Don’t take this too hard. This is just a hiccup and you’ll get over it easily.”

Looking down at Kate, Naomi held her breath. Retaking courses for an entire semester wasn’t a hiccup. Jesse wasn’t a hiccup. Things were far from resolved with him. She wondered if her mother would pay for the rest of her schooling if she was unable to get another scholarship or win back the one she had lost. She didn’t want to find out. She wanted everything to go away or at least get back to normal, even if that meant Jesse was back in prison for three more years. She couldn’t do both. And, she realized as she looked over at Kate’s computer and the screen showing grades and notes and everything relating to her academic life, maybe she didn’t want to do both.