Authors: Mary Ann Rivers,Ruthie Knox
After what seems like hours, the campanile begins to play, a jumble of bells, and the faculty stop their noise all at once, fall into silence, and then they drop into bows and curtsies, heads down.
The graduates walk past this supplication, the bells pealing into the air, and when they have accepted the honor of the faculty and made a silent loop of campus, one last walk as students cross ground as familiar as our own heartbeats, the bells stop and the students are graduated.
Graduated, because they have accepted wildness, accepted gratitude, accepted contemplation and journey, and finally, accepted each other, because after the bells stop, everyone embraces and exchanges their mortarboards. No one leaves with the one they came to the ceremony wearing.
The first time I watched the ceremony, I was a freshman.
I watched with tears running down my face, partly because I was so moved, so
aching
with feeling, and partly because my first year had been such a disappointment, and I couldn’t imagine making it to this ceremony and accepting anyone or anything.
The noise, I didn’t realize, is
incredible
.
The drums, the snapping poppers, the yelling, the music. I can’t hear myself at all, and I am yelling—
Huzzah!
Professor Darling’s regalia is fantastic, red and white with actual lace cuffs, long and trailing, and it somehow suits him. When he sees me and Cal, he drops his drum and embraces us together, more effusive than I have ever known him, his arms so tight around both of us that Cal and I are nearly back to front. I can feel all of us laughing, or crying, I can’t tell. When he pulls back he kisses Cal on the forehead, his hand on the back of his head, and then he takes my face in his hands and kisses me right on the mouth, and it’s the exact right thing to do.
I feel wild.
I feel accepted.
I feel perfect.
When the noise stops and the faculty bow, I let my tears fall straight from my heart into the air.
Cal laces his fingers through mine, and we walk.
He shows me the spot where he stopped me one cold day in January and I almost hit him. I show him the tree where I saw Becky and John Darling making out one night when I was walking back to my dorm from the library.
Our clasped hands tighten, then relax, and we leave each other to our own thoughts.
The campus looks the same, of course. I wonder when it would look different, or if it ever will, even when it inevitably changes.
I look at the buildings, the people, memories flashing through my mind, visions of Cal, of Beth, of Marvin and Finn, of myself over four years of seasons, learning, changing.
When we come back to the center of the quad and the bells stop, I see her.
I know you
, I think, startled.
Because she is me.
She is me, three years ago, and I see her standing there, arms wrapped around her body, and she is just the same.
She’s so beautiful. She doesn’t even know it.
Not yet.
But I do.
I will always know you
, I tell that girl who is me three years ago, watching her first graduation ceremony with tears running down her cheeks.
I get right inside her, where it is dark, and I tell her to drop the art history class she’s registered for and take the theater prerequisite in the spring.
I tell her that it’s okay to linger in the lobbies of buildings where people are laughing, to ask someone who knitted their scarf, to get A-minuses — or B-minuses, for that matter.
After all, a B-minus is what Maggie gave me in Theater 309.
It was the best grade I have ever received.
I tell her,
I love you, Winnie-girl. Keep an eye out for me.
She’ll always be here.
I’ll always be here.
You are here.
I am
here
.
Authors:
Ruthie Knox and Mary Ann Rivers
First Readers:
Kelly Lauer, Julie Darby, Marian Whitaker, Barbara Homrighaus, Rachel Hollis
Copyeditor:
Kelly Lauer
Cover Photography:
Jishnu Guha Digital Designs
Cover Models:
Santiago Quintana and Melina Montesino
Photography Art Direction:
Marian Whitaker
Cover Design:
Book Beautiful
Proofreader:
Beaumont Hardy Editing
Interior Art:
Book Beautiful
Interior Design:
Williams Writing, Editing & Design
Contact improvisational dance is integrated into many arts, dance, and theater programs all over the world.
The Dark Space
is fiction, and as such takes elements from this kind of contemporary dance, as well as from acting study theory, and dramatizes the class Winnie and Cal found themselves in. As the authors, we are aware that Cal and Winnie’s experience will feel familiar to those who study drama and movement arts, and very unfamiliar, as well, to many who have not, and we want to encourage readers who are interested in the ideas presented about contact improvisational dance, or other acting theories discussed, to read about them, go to performances, and take classes.
When our intern, Marian Whitaker, read the manuscript, she was on the verge of graduation from a college very similar to Cal and Winnie’s. She found herself struggling, so much, with the book’s inevitable march to graduation, because she felt as conflicted as Winnie and Cal about the ends of things, the beginnings of others. She confessed that she held her breath the whole time she read about the period after Cal and Winnie’s spring break, worried about how these characters would end and would begin, wondering how she would. She read their graduation scene weeping until she reached a kind of catharsis. Talked to us about loss and everything after.
Marian is who we wrote this for — the Marian both of us had been during this time when late night conversations anticipated magic, and everyone seemed beautiful, and it was so easy to be lonely even while we were more intimate with others than we had ever been. Writing this, we realized we were the girls we had always been, that we had always been there, and that we were always capable of what we believed we were on the cusp of college graduation. Always. We were enough. The world needed us. Just as this book needed all these people.
Just as the world needs you.
Brain Mill Press would like to acknowledge the support of the following patrons:
Noelle Adams
Katherine Bodsworth
Lea Franczak
Barry and Barbara Homrighaus
Kelly Lauer
Susan Lee
Sherri Marx
Aisling Murphy
Audra North
Virginia Parker
Cherri Porter
Erin Rathjen
Robin Drouin Tuch
Ride with Me
About Last Night
Room at the Inn
Roman Holiday
How to Misbehave
Along Came Trouble
Flirting with Disaster
Making It Last
Truly
Deeper
Harder
The Story Guy
Snowfall
Live
Laugh
New York Times
bestselling author
Ruthie Knox
and
Library Journal
–recognized author
Mary Ann Rivers
exchanged tens of thousands of emails, texts, words over the phone, and manuscript pages before a single provocative email exchange dared them to direct the energy and love in their conversations into a story. Soon, a shared intelligence they dubbed “Third Brain Mill” had written a book and started another. They haven’t looked back, and they dare each other and their Third Brain Mill regularly — usually while taking a walk together.