interrupted us with another Wedding Freak-out Call, and we revisited the exciting world of calculus where Connor tried to explain why I should care about a bathtub being filled at one rate and simultaneously emptied at a different rate.
“Let’s just turn off the faucet and be done with the stupid problem,” I said. “That’s what any fool would do if they were worried about the tub overflowing.”
“Well, it’s not just bathtubs.” Connor was always straining to show me how calculus could be used in real life. “Imagine if you had a leaking tank.”
“If you have a leaking tank, you shouldn’t be adding anything to it, don’t you think?”
He sighed. “Okay, let’s start over. If—”
My phone went off again, Annie this time. Connor said, “I’m gonna throw that phone in—”
“—a leaking bathtub,” I finished, clicking on the phone. “Yeah, Annie, what’s up?”
“We have head things,” she said.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“For the wedding. We have these things we’re supposed to wear on our heads.”
“Hats?”
“No, not hats. Hats would be something normal people could at least recognize. These are big poufy things that clip on to your hair.”
“What are they? Bows? Flowers?”
“They don’t look like anything you’ve ever seen before.”
“Imagine if a yellow marshmallow exploded,”Monica yelled in the background. “That’s what they look like.”
“So we’re going to wear exploded marshmallows on our heads?” I said. “Are you sure?”
“Ohhh, very sure. Emily told us herself, and what’s more, she thinks they’re the cutest, most clever things ever .”
Connor tapped his calculus book. “You know I have to go to work in half an hour, right?” he said.
“Oh, Annie, look, I have to finish this exam. Talk to you later.”
“Well, if you don’t object to looking stupid at the wedding …”
“Annie, I’ve seen the dresses, remember? We were already going to look stupid.”
In the half hour we had left, Connor managed to help me unravel one of the seven remaining problems.
“What do I do about the other six?” I asked, frowning at the blank spots on my page.
“You can do them,” he said. “Just take your time.”
“Maybe you can help me when you get back?”
“I’m working late tonight.” He kissed me, hunted out his car keys, and paused in the doorway. “But you can stay here a while longer, if you want.”
I smiled at him. Something about the way the doorway framed him, the way he jingled his keys, the piece of hair that stuck up just over his left eye, made me want to snap his picture right then.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m not stupid, and I have your notes to go by.”
• • •
Nine-thirty. I had to leave; neither Connor’s parents nor mine wanted me staying here this late. Yet all I had for these last six problems was a big smudge, the sign of repeated erasing.
I dropped Connor’s notes and mine, and stared at the folder where I knew he had stored his completed exam. I would just look at the first line of Connor’s answer, I told myself. As soon as I saw where he was going, I’d be able to take the next step myself.
No, I decided. As much as Connor and I worked together, we had never just plain copied from each other. We’d joked about a guy at school who also wanted to be a doctor, and who was known for cheating: What’s he going to do in surgery, read the instructions off the back of his hand ?
“Sarah!” Connor’s mother called up the stairs. “Do you need a ride home?”
“Um, in a minute, thanks!”
I was out of time. And so I looked.
I copied down Connor’s first line, but I didn’t see what to do next.
I’m so tired, I told myself. One more line, and I’m sure I’ll see how to do this.
My phone beeped then—Mom, calling me home. I stared at my test paper, unable to imagine several more hours at home alone, wrestling with these unbelievable problems. I looked at
“Let’s just turn off the faucet and be done with the stupid problem,” I said. “That’s what any fool would do if they were worried about the tub overflowing.”
“Well, it’s not just bathtubs.” Connor was always straining to show me how calculus could be used in real life. “Imagine if you had a leaking tank.”
“If you have a leaking tank, you shouldn’t be adding anything to it, don’t you think?”
He sighed. “Okay, let’s start over. If—”
My phone went off again, Annie this time. Connor said, “I’m gonna throw that phone in—”
“—a leaking bathtub,” I finished, clicking on the phone. “Yeah, Annie, what’s up?”
“We have head things,” she said.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“For the wedding. We have these things we’re supposed to wear on our heads.”
“Hats?”
“No, not hats. Hats would be something normal people could at least recognize. These are big poufy things that clip on to your hair.”
“What are they? Bows? Flowers?”
“They don’t look like anything you’ve ever seen before.”
“Imagine if a yellow marshmallow exploded,”Monica yelled in the background. “That’s what they look like.”
“So we’re going to wear exploded marshmallows on our heads?” I said. “Are you sure?”
“Ohhh, very sure. Emily told us herself, and what’s more, she thinks they’re the cutest, most clever things ever .”
Connor tapped his calculus book. “You know I have to go to work in half an hour, right?” he said.
“Oh, Annie, look, I have to finish this exam. Talk to you later.”
“Well, if you don’t object to looking stupid at the wedding …”
“Annie, I’ve seen the dresses, remember? We were already going to look stupid.”
In the half hour we had left, Connor managed to help me unravel one of the seven remaining problems.
“What do I do about the other six?” I asked, frowning at the blank spots on my page.
“You can do them,” he said. “Just take your time.”
“Maybe you can help me when you get back?”
“I’m working late tonight.” He kissed me, hunted out his car keys, and paused in the doorway. “But you can stay here a while longer, if you want.”
I smiled at him. Something about the way the doorway framed him, the way he jingled his keys, the piece of hair that stuck up just over his left eye, made me want to snap his picture right then.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m not stupid, and I have your notes to go by.”
• • •
Nine-thirty. I had to leave; neither Connor’s parents nor mine wanted me staying here this late. Yet all I had for these last six problems was a big smudge, the sign of repeated erasing.
I dropped Connor’s notes and mine, and stared at the folder where I knew he had stored his completed exam. I would just look at the first line of Connor’s answer, I told myself. As soon as I saw where he was going, I’d be able to take the next step myself.
No, I decided. As much as Connor and I worked together, we had never just plain copied from each other. We’d joked about a guy at school who also wanted to be a doctor, and who was known for cheating: What’s he going to do in surgery, read the instructions off the back of his hand ?
“Sarah!” Connor’s mother called up the stairs. “Do you need a ride home?”
“Um, in a minute, thanks!”
I was out of time. And so I looked.
I copied down Connor’s first line, but I didn’t see what to do next.
I’m so tired, I told myself. One more line, and I’m sure I’ll see how to do this.
My phone beeped then—Mom, calling me home. I stared at my test paper, unable to imagine several more hours at home alone, wrestling with these unbelievable problems. I looked at
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