Ghosts of Harvard Read online

  Jenny stepped down from the lectern. As she passed their pew, Cady’s mother stood to hug her. When Jenny broke from the embrace, she surprised Cady by bending down and putting her arms around Cady’s neck. “I’m so sorry,” Jenny said, sniffling. Cady nodded and touched her back but couldn’t form the words to answer. All she could think of was how cool Jenny’s hair felt against her cheek, like water.

  The sound of the organ burst out from the front of the church, and Cady closed her eyes. After the last key was released, the sound lingered before escaping into the air beyond. Cady opened her eyes upward to the vaulted roof of the church.

  She remembered looking up at Eric as he stood tall at the garage roof’s peak, silhouetted against the moonlight like a wolf on a mountaintop. He motioned for her to climb up to the top with him, then reached out his arm to help her. Eric pointed out their parents’ bedroom windows toward the back of the house and his own bedroom window—the one from which he watched Jeremy sneak out to smoke on the roof. He said he saw Bootie sitting in his window, but Cady couldn’t, so he held her shoulders to position her in his perspective. Straining to see, she raised her heels from the roof. Suddenly, the light went on in their parents’ room. Eric dropped down to hide, tipping Cady off balance. Her feet slipped out from under her.

  She slid down the roof face-first, moving too fast to feel the shingles push past her outstretched arms, scrape her cheek, snag her nightshirt, hit her knees. But just before she ran out of roof, a hand closed tight around her ankle and then another yanked on the back of her shirt; Eric was grabbing her wherever he could catch hold. His feet were scrambling to slow their slide until he shoved his heels into the rain gutter. The metal pipe bowed out under the force, but Cady could see that it would hold. He had saved her.

  Who would save her now that he was gone? Cady looked at her parents, her inscrutable father, her trembling mother, but neither of them was able to feel her gaze. Eric had always been the center of the family; when he was healthy, they were loving, celebrating, and planning for him, and when he became mentally ill, they were treating, arguing, and worrying over him. She felt they were floating away from one another, clinging to their memories of Eric like pieces of a sunken ship. She wanted to reach out to them, but to let go would be to drown.

  Eric always considered Mantis Mommy Revenge their greatest mission, because they got the pleasure of watching Jeremy pretend to get high on catnip for the rest of the summer. He had retold the story to friends many times over the years, but in every instance Cady had to add that Eric saved her life that night, and every time he shrugged it off. She could still hear him give his standard reply: “Would you have let me fall?”

  But in the end, Cady hadn’t been there to stop him. She had let him fall. So had they all.

  3

  “I THINK WE’D better hit the road, Cady-Cake,” her father said, making her nostalgic for the nickname the instant he used it. They had unloaded all her stuff, reparked the car, and gone out for a nice lunch at a restaurant called Grafton Street across from Lamont Library. Now they were back at the room, and Cady had run out of reasons to keep them there.

  “But first, are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Aunt Laura added.

  Cady was reluctant to see them go, but she also didn’t want to hold her father hostage on this campus any longer. “No, thanks, I can take it from here. You guys have a long drive home.”

  Her father and Laura gathered their things and the empty suitcases they were taking back, and Cady walked them to the elevator. She bent to give Aunt Laura a hug, thanking her for coming, and Laura gave her an extra squeeze to show she understood. When it was her father’s turn, Cady was surprised to see his face full of emotion for the first time that day.

  “Now, listen to me,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “You’re going to be fine here. You earned this, and I’m proud of you, and, deep down, Mom is too.”

  “Thanks.” Cady nodded. She didn’t believe him, but she wanted to.

  He stroked her hair with one hand, his eyes glistening. “You’re gonna make some new memories for our family, right?”

  The height of that challenge gave her vertigo. She threw her arms around him, as if she were holding on for dear life.

  He hugged her back. “That’s my brave girl.”

  Cady felt anything but.

  She walked back, entered the empty common room, and exhaled. It was a relief to be unobserved. But that pleasure was short-lived and replaced with a question: Now what? She had plenty of unpacking to do, she supposed she should get started. Cady arranged, and rearranged, the furniture in the double bedroom, making sure there was parity, each desk facing a window, dressers side by side. She didn’t want her roommate to think she was selfish, although she did claim the bottom bunk; she wasn’t an idiot. She put away all her clothes, made her bed, and set up the mini-fridge, which consisted of plugging it in.

  Cady wasn’t sure where to hang the cheap full-length mirror she had brought, or, more specifically, how, since the orientation pamphlet said they were prohibited from hammering nails into the walls. She propped the wobbly mirror against the back of the bedroom door and regarded her reflection. She didn’t like what she saw. She had gotten up so early to make the drive, she was wearing no makeup, and her skin looked pale and dull, with none of the toasty freckles that would’ve dotted her nose and cheeks at the end of a happier summer. She wore leggings and a Vampire Weekend T-shirt, she didn’t even like them that much anymore, and she wished she had dressed better for a first impression. She still could. Cady changed into better jeans and a blue Henley that she liked, and then her attention returned to the bottom drawer of her dresser.

  She knelt and retrieved the Harvard hoodie, pausing before she pulled it over her head. Cady looked in the mirror again. She lifted her hand to her chest and ran her fingers across the crimson felt lettering. She combed her fingers through the end of her ponytail. Growing up, she’d always hated standing out as a redhead, but hers was the same chestnut tint as her brother’s, a trait they shared with no other living relative. So now her hair didn’t look so much like red, but like Eric. She smiled. People had always said it, but she’d never agreed until now—she looked just like him.

  Suddenly, the bedroom door opened, sending the mirror falling forward. Cady lunged to catch it, but not before the corner struck the bedpost and sent a crack splintering across the top.

  A middle-aged Indian woman in an azalea-pink tunic stood in the doorway. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was here, please let me help you.” She set down the box she was holding and bent to help Cady lift it.

  “That’s okay, it’s my fault.”

  A girl poked her head in from behind her mother, her long dark hair cascading below her slender neck. Her eyes were framed with heavy lashes, and her finely boned nose was pierced by a sparkly stud. “Mo-om, what did you do?”

  “It was an accident,” her mother cried. Then, looking at Cady, “I’m very sorry, I will pay for the mirror—”

  “Please, don’t apologize—”

  “Great start to the roommate relationship, Mom,” the girl said, playfully, as she entered the room. She was thin and lithe in a way that looked natural, and she was dressed in cool, slouchy jeans and a cropped white tee, displaying a flat, tan tummy. She turned to Cady, her smile bright. “I’m Ranjoo, do you hate me already?”

  “Only for those abs.” Cady laughed. “No, it’s great to meet you, I’m Cady.” They hugged, and even her hair smelled good.

  “And I am Dr. Vasan, but you may call me Pri.” Her mother embraced Cady as well. “And I insist you allow me to replace the mirror.”

  “Really, it’s fine, I think the pieces will stay in.”

  “We can’t use a broken mirror, it’s bad luck! And I brought one too, we’ll use mine.”

  “Ranjoo, you are here to
study science, not superstition.”

  “I’m studying art, and now with this bad luck, I’ll be unemployed forever. Think of it, Mom, no job and no doctorate—what will you tell the aunties?”

  “Stop it, you terrible daughter.” Her mother grabbed her face and kissed it as Ranjoo scrunched her nose. “You know we are all so proud of you, whatever you decide.”

  Cady felt a pang of envy. “Is sharing a bedroom okay with you? Our third roommate, Andrea, requested the single, she’s a light sleeper.”

  Ranjoo rolled her eyes. “You got that email from her, too? Last time I checked, being high-maintenance isn’t a medical condition. But you’re nicer than I am. If I’d been here first, I’d have moved my shit right into that single.”

  “You still can, I guess.”

  “No, you were right, it’s good to be nice. Plus, I’m not going to stick you with the crazy roommate.”

  Cady’s smile faded. “Crazy” was another word that would never mean what it used to.

  Weld 23 quickly became a very busy place. Ranjoo’s father, the other Dr. Vasan, arrived, and Cady helped them bring Ranjoo’s many boxes upstairs. Ranjoo was from California, so most of her things had been shipped ahead of time, which struck Cady as glamorous, if a total pain to unpack. They were knee-deep in cardboard when the front door opened again, and the third roommate, Andrea Kraus-Feldman, and her family arrived.

  “Knock knock, anybody home?” Mr. Kraus-Feldman called out in a singsong voice. He had a big smile and brushy mustache underneath a Harvard Class of ’88 hat.

  Mrs. Kraus-Feldman entered next, gazing around dreamily. “Oh, it’s just as I remembered it.”

  Andrea emerged from behind her. “Cady, I’m so excited to finally meet you!” she cried, throwing her little arms around her. Cady returned the hug and excitement, feeling only a little phony. Andrea gave Ranjoo a cooler greeting, punishment for that unanswered email.

  Andrea was petite and waifishly thin, making her appear younger than eighteen. She had big blue eyes behind outdated wire-rimmed glasses and light brown hair pulled back with barrettes. Her fair skin was poreless but stretched tight across her forehead, so you could see a tiny blue vein at her temple. Andrea’s silent little sister looked just like her, only less worried. Her family members crammed into her single bedroom to get her unpacked, leaving no job for Andrea, so she suggested the new roommates compare classes in the common room. Cady was happy to learn Ranjoo would be in Psych 100 with her. Neither Cady nor Ranjoo had any classes in common with Andrea’s brutal premed course load. Cady glazed over as Andrea agonized over the decision whether to take Chem 17 in fall or spring semester, until she mentioned a Professor Kessler.

  “Take the one with Kessler,” Cady said. “He’s a tough grader, but he makes it interesting. Someone else teaches it in the spring and totally sucks by comparison.”

  “Really? Good, thank you, that makes me feel so much better to have that decided.” Andrea sighed in relief. “Wait, how do you know that?”

  “Oh—” Because Eric took it his freshman year. “My friend’s older brother goes here, and he told me.” Cady was afraid the heat of the lie would show on her face, but Andrea seemed not to notice. Cady hadn’t explicitly decided against telling people about Eric, but she didn’t want to tell her roommates so soon after meeting them. She would wait for the right time.

  Ranjoo was discussing the art portfolio submission process for studio classes when Cady tuned back in. Ranjoo showed them pictures on her iPhone of a mural she’d painted on the side of an old warehouse in her hometown. “I didn’t get permission or anything, I just did it over three nights one weekend. But people liked it, so they let me do two more panels, see?”

  “That’s incredible,” Cady said, meaning it. “How did I get into this school with you?”

  Andrea asked, “And your parents are supportive?”

  “Of my majoring in studio art, or my graffiti?”

  “Both. I mean, they’re doctors.”

  “I know, right? I’m going to have to let them arrange my marriage to make up for it.”

  Cady laughed with Ranjoo, but Andrea furrowed her brow. “Are you serious?”

  “No, I’m kidding! P.S. You’re racist for not getting the joke.”

  “I am not racist.” Andrea looked stricken. “I just wouldn’t make a stereotype of my family for a laugh.”

  “Omigod, I’m messing with you. And anyway, they’re my family, so joking about them is my prerogative, isn’t it?” Ranjoo said.

  Andrea raised her eyebrows.

  “What’s that face?” Ranjoo shot back.

  Andrea’s smile remained impassive as a doll’s. “Both my mother and my father went here, it’s where they met. In fact, this was my mother’s room freshman year.”

  “Seriously? That’s wild, what are the odds?” Cady interjected in an attempt to defuse the situation.

  “I heard they sometimes do that for legacies,” Ranjoo said. “Makes you feel like your family is part of Harvard’s ‘living history.’ One of their many tricks to secure alumni giving.”

  “Regardless.” Andrea frowned. “I’m proud that I can live up to my family’s expectations, even if they set the bar high. And I wouldn’t denigrate my own parents to two strangers, but that’s just me.”

  Cady stepped in. “She was just joking.”

  Andrea took a deep breath. “You’re right. I really don’t know your situation. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  “Whatever, it’s fine.” Ranjoo bit into the words.

  “Friends?”

  “Yeah, friends,” she answered, smiling tightly.

  “Now if you’ll excuse me. I have to use the ladies’ room.” Andrea walked out into the hall.

  As soon as the door clicked shut, Ranjoo whirled to face Cady. “Ugh, can you believe her?”

  “That was weird,” Cady agreed, eager to prove her loyalty. But in the back of her mind, she’d heard what Ranjoo had said about tricks for legacies. Although her parents weren’t alumni, she guessed that a sibling at Harvard could count almost as much. She wondered about a dead one.

  “I mean, we just met, and she’s already judging the shit out of me. Like, we have to live together, can you show a little manners?”

  “I know.” Cady had assumed the housing was random, but if the college intentionally placed Andrea in Weld, was Cady intentionally kept away from Grays, Eric’s freshman dorm?

  “And the truth is, I know I joke about my parents, but they’re my parents. I get it, they get it, I don’t need to explain it to some girl I just met.”

  And she hadn’t gotten into Princeton or Yale. The fact was, Cady had applied to Harvard when her brother was a junior there, but she had gotten in three weeks after he jumped out the window of his dorm room. Was her acceptance don’t-sue-us insurance? Was she a pity admission?

  “You can’t judge the dynamic in someone else’s family, you know?”

  Cady refocused on Ranjoo. “I really like your parents. And I can tell how much you guys love each other.”

  “Thanks. They’re pretty awesome. I’m sorry I missed your mom and dad.”

  “Yeah, actually, you missed my dad and my aunt, but, whatever.” Cady shrugged it off, but something on her face must have betrayed her hurt, because Ranjoo’s brows lifted in sympathy and embarrassment.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. Is your mom…?”

  “Dead? No, no.” My brother is. “My mom just wasn’t up for the trip.” It worked as a vague, passable excuse, as long as you didn’t know that the relative who was “up for the trip” was wheelchair-bound.

  Ranjoo’s father returned from taking the broken-down boxes to the basement to report that the trash area was “quite tidy” and added, “Ah, and before I forget, Cady, please tell me, where did you buy your sweatshirt?”

  She f
roze—she had forgotten she was still wearing it.

  “Oh, no, Cady, don’t tell him!” Ranjoo called out from their bedroom. “He’s gonna buy them for the whole family. The campus store won’t have any left.”

  Cady yanked the sweatshirt over her head, muffling her weak claim about its being too hot for it.

  “My only child gets into Harvard, and you think I want to keep it a secret?” he yelled back.

  Ranjoo came out of the room, still needling her father. “You know, I bet Harvard makes them in India, tell the fam to go factory-direct and save on shipping.”

  Cady darted behind her into the bedroom and tossed the wadded-up sweatshirt onto her bed, then popped back into the common room.

  “Such a wise guy,” Dr. Vasan said. “Tell me, Cady, how can a good daughter give her father so much grief?”

  Cady huffed out her anxiety in a laugh. “You should ask my dad about that.”

  4

  IT WAS EVENING when Cady again found herself alone. Ranjoo and Andrea had each gone out to dinner with their parents. Cady had gotten a salad from a chain restaurant in the Square and eaten it hunched over on the futon in the common room, studying the pages of Eric’s notebook.