Read Online How Not To Fall by Emily Foster - Free Book Online

my thesis defense today, so that I can present my thesis defense next week, so that I can graduate the following week, so that I can start medical school, so that I can be a doctor, so that I can change the world.
    Unless some tiny thing goes wrong and everything falls to pieces.
    I mean, no fucking pressure, right?
    By the time I get to the lab, I resemble nothing so much as a grumpy sewer rat. I’m wet and unhappy. I go into Charles’s office and say, “Hey, Charles,” and dump myself into the chair by his desk.
    â€œAh, young Coffey,” he says, not looking at me—he’s still finishing whatever he’s typing. And then when he does look my way, saying, “Thesis defense,” he stops, looking aghast at my state. “Do you not own an umbrella, Annie? Ought the lab to consider buying you one as a graduation present?”
    â€œDude, I had an umbrella! This is the level of wet I get with an umbrella in this godforsaken state.”
    â€œIs there a towel somewhere you could use?”
    â€œI’m fine. I’ll dry out in a few minutes.”
    â€œYou’ll catch your death, young lady.”
    I give him a dirty look. “Dude, you’re a fucking doctor . You know that’s a myth.”
    â€œOne worries, nonetheless. Remember the world can’t be a better place because you’re in it unless—”
    â€œUnless I am still actually in it. Yeah, thanks. That’s very nice of you. Can we get on with the whatsit, please?”
    He looks at me for a moment and then takes a deep breath and says, “Sure. Go for it.”
    I pull out my laptop and load my slides and get started.
    It goes very badly. From typos in the slides to leaving out an entire section of the literature review to not being able to answer even the fairly simple questions Charles asks, my presentation is one big fail after another.
    Finally I throw myself backward in my chair and sigh. “Today is not my day.”
    Charles leans back too and says, “You are not usually so underprepared.” Which is probably a more productive account of my difficulties. “But you know how to fix it.”
    â€œYes,” I say in disgust. “It’s all just stupid mistakes.”
    â€œNot stupid,” he says. “Careless. It’s a crucial difference. You are never stupid, and you are rarely careless. What is wrong?”
    I shift around uncomfortably in my chair. “It’s the rain,” I mutter.
    â€œThe rain?”
    â€œYes, the rain, ” I repeat, as if he’s deaf. “It’s been fucking raining for three fucking days, and I can’t fucking take it!”
    â€œThe rain prevented you from—”
    â€œI know, I’m nuts!” I interrupt him. I sullenly tell him the story of the rain, leaving out the part about Annie, and adding, “Of course, when I finally took a philosophy class, I realized it was a matter of induction versus deduction. But it’s not really about ‘how do you know?’; it’s about ‘what will we do if it doesn’t?’ What will we do, how will we live, if the rain never stops falling?” I pause, my frowning eyes on Charles’s little office window. Then I look at my hands and say, “Now that I’m a grown-up, obviously, I don’t literally worry that the sun won’t ever come out, but some days ... I suppose I’m saying I’m underprepared because my thesis defense felt pretty unimportant in the face of the fundamental unreliability of the universe.”
    â€œThe fundamental unreliability of the universe,” Charles repeats as I glance up at him. He scratches his head and looks at me. “Annie, there are days when I do not know what to do with you.”
    All I want him to do with me is kiss me. He’s looking at me with a warm, open expression, and the collar of his shirt is lopsided. But I am a grumpy sewer rat who doesn’t trust the