Chapter 10

It was a cool, damp Monday morning. Katie pulled up the blinds just a crack and peered outside. A few students, traveling on foot to their morning classes, were already making their way across the campus lawn, some toting umbrellas. After a long run of nice, sunny weather, uncharacteristic for springtime in Philadelphia, this Monday had dawned dull and gloomy.

Katie returned to the station that she'd occupied since six o'clock that morning: the chair perched in front of her computer. Still wearing a pink pajama top with matching pants, she sat down, folding one leg underneath her on the chair. She spotted a conveniently-located hair band, which she used to confine her long hair. Her roommate was still dead to the world, she thought; she plugged in a set of headphones, slipped them over her ears and loaded up a CD. "Now ... concentrate," she admonished herself.

Katie's thesis was coming along slowly, but the process of pulling it together was painstaking and tedious. Last night, she'd fallen asleep in front of the computer; hence her early start this morning. She wondered if all this work would be worth it in the long run.

More often than not, Katie spent the bulk of her study time at the library, with its souped-up computers and easy access to a variety of scientific publications. But every once in awhile, she relished the quiet solitude of her own abode, and often found that she could get more accomplished at home. She'd gotten into the habit of photocopying entire articles from the library's substantial assortment of journals, and had scoured the microfilm collection as well. She'd filled up more than one notebook with scrupulously detailed handwritten notes. As a result, she had everything she needed right there at home, and it was all neatly organized in a file cabinet.

Katie's apartment complex, though not owned by the university, was located right across the street from university property. It was a dormitory-type setting; practically all of the tenants were students, and many of them were grad students like Katie. Being so close to everything she needed, Katie often considered doing without a car, but she liked having some degree of mobility.

Her plans, once she had her master's degree, were to go into teaching and see if she liked it. Continuing on to get her doctorate was definitely a possibility down the road, but at this point, Katie felt that she needed to take a break from the grueling, rigorous academic routine she'd gotten into.

She'd always been smart, one of the top students in her class, even at an early age. Her parents, realizing this, successfully instilled a sense of discipline into her. They'd encountered challenges in doing so, mostly related to cultural matters and their constant moving about from locale to locale. Once they'd settled for good in the United States, during Katie's teen years, she had briefly rebelled against her folks' traditional Chinese ways. She was, after all, an adolescent growing up in America. And like most immigrants' children, she'd become fond of American temptations, American music and American pop culture. The rebellion didn't last long; she quickly realized that the "old ways" weren't so bad, after all, and learned to adopt the viewpoint that her ethnicity permitted her to enjoy the best of two different worlds. But in her heart, even as a young adult, Katie was what her parents often referred to, somewhat sardonically, as a "banana" ... yellow on the outside, white on the inside. She spoke unaccented American English, and tended to identify more with American ways than Chinese.

Her concentration was broken when her peripheral vision detected an arm waving. It was her roommate, fully dressed and holding an umbrella, who in fact was very much awake and trying to get her attention. Katie pulled back the headphones. "Sorry, Becky," she grinned. Becky was a full-figured, red-headed, pale-complexioned, bespectacled young lady who was also a graduate student.

"I'm off to class. See ya," Becky said on her way out the door.

"Have fun." Katie didn't have class until mid-afternoon. She and Becky got along quite well. But like many successful roommates, their social circles rarely intersected away from home.

Katie often wondered what the future held, beyond her academic and professional life. Her career was important to her, for sure. But she was traditional-minded enough to want more than that: a husband, children, a big house.

She didn't date often. And in truth, the only man that she'd had time for, in a very long while, had been Mark. In fact, she had plans to meet him for lunch that very day.

The thought of that broke her concentration. She smiled, got up and walked into the kitchen. She poured herself some orange juice.

Mark was her friend, her confidant, her academic and professional advisor. He was self-assured, good-looking, and distinguished. She'd realized quite a long time ago that he was everything she wanted in a man. Plus, she thought as she silently mouthed the words, "he's a helluva good lover, too." She giggled.

At the same time, he was rather mysterious; he came and went, in and out of her life. But she liked this, in a way; she wanted a man who respected her goals in life, and perhaps Mark was just affording her some space. Perhaps, after she graduated, things would change.

Before she knew it, it was almost eleven o'clock; time to get ready for her lunch date. She showered quickly. She wrapped one towel around her wet, full head of hair and another around her diminutive body. Scurrying into her bedroom to select an outfit, she recalled a conversation with her sister, Cynthia, shortly following the occasion when they'd all met at the Italian restaurant. Our restaurant, Katie thought, as a smile blossomed across her face.

"I saw the way Mark's jaw dropped when he saw you in that dress," Cynthia had told her. "Take a cue from that. He likes to see your feminine side."

Katie peeked under the blinds; the rain had stopped, the sun was coming out, and it looked like it would be a nice, warm spring day, after all. She selected a light yellow sundress with flowers on it. You can't get more feminine than this, Katie said contentedly to herself.

She thought of something else that Cynthia had said to her that very same day: "That man's a keeper, Katie. Do everything you can to make sure he doesn't get away."

Cynthia is very wise, Katie thought, the smile still dancing across her face. The two sisters were quite close, and Katie often relied on her elder sibling for advice.

Laying the dress temporarily on the bed, she entered the bathroom once again, humming a happy tune, and removed the towel that perched like a turban on top of her head. Tossing her head back and forth, she swirled her lovely long dark hair around with a dramatic flourish. She pulled out the dryer and giggled some more.

A few minutes later, she produced a tube of pale brown lipstick. She applied it onto her thin yet shapely lips. Mark had told her one time that they were her best feature, and that explained why she was such a good kisser.

Katie stood up on her tiptoes and, holding the towel against her body with one hand, leaned over the sink and planted a kiss on the mirror. She looked at the lip print on the reflective surface for just a second, and then wiped it off with her hand. She continued to giggle, like a twelve-year old in the throes of her first crush.

Mark steered his car into his private parking spot at work; he was in a hurry. He'd just dropped Katie off at class after their lunch date, and in keeping with recent history, he was running late. He had an important group meeting to attend in less than ten minutes. The sun was now out in full force, but he still had to sidestep a few puddles as he hastily strode toward the building.