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Admittedly, ordering wine in a college bar had probably been a bad idea. It burned going down, giving the term “acid” an entirely new meaning. But despite the questionable nature of the beverage, Amherst couldn’t bring herself to drink anything else. The tangy scent brought back thoughts of her childhood, of Boston townhouses and New York City highrises, though her California side was vomiting internally at the poor quality. Perhaps Amherst would have known better than to order such a drink at a college bar if she frequented them more often.
She could have chosen to drink away her sorrows at one of the fancy restaurants back home, but she couldn’t bear to spend another minute in that valley. Instead she had driven down to Boston, where the hundreds of college bars provided the perfect opportunity to disappear. She downed the rest of her glass, winced, then ordered another. Maybe she was a coward for running away at a time like this, but the others could get by just fine without her. Besides, it wasn’t like she was helping things.
The door creaked open, then slammed shut against the rain outside. Footsteps creaked across the sticky floor and paused behind her.
“Amherst?”
She groaned at the sound of her visitor. She turned to look at the newcomer, knowing exactly who she’d find.
“Williams,” she said, glaring over the top of her wine glass. “Why am I not surprised?”
Williams, to his credit, managed to look abashed at his unexpected arrival. He had a strong build from years on the ski slopes and squash courts, but a kind of smug intelligence that only came from centuries of competition with the Ivies and high rankings from Niche and USNews. Amherst would know. She had it herself.
Williams glanced around at the rundown bar with its flickering lights and sticker-covered walls. He looked down at Amherst, whose disheveled designer leggings and sweatshirt were still damp from the rain. Then he sighed and awkwardly maneuvered himself into the seat next to Amherst. Amherst leaned away, narrowing her eyes.
“Why are you here, Williams?” Amherst snarled. “Did Smith send you? I’m fine. I don’t need anyone’s pity.”
“Actually,” Williams said, cutting her a quick side eye, “UMass did. They said you took off and might need someone to pick you up after guzzling cheap wine in some sketchy college bar down in Boston.”
Amherst saw Williams look down at her glass of cheap wine and raise a brow. She pulled it closer to her and looked away, huffing in frustration. They sat in silence for a while, the drumming of Amherst’s fingers on the bar drowned out by the pop music blaring in the background. Amherst was about to leave and try to find another place in which to drown her sorrows, when Williams cleared his throat and turned to face her. She was about to tell him off before he could launch into one of his reprimanding lectures, but then she caught a glimpse of his face. It was serious, as Williams always was. But there was a softness to it, a kindness that she had never seen from Williams before. It unnerved her.
“I heard about what happened to Hampshire.”
Amherst froze, and the blood drained from her face. She turned away from Williams and looked down into her drink. The bar was silent, save for the sounds of the rain outside.
“An incoming class of 13 students,” she whispered into the stagnant air. “And projected enrollment is half of what it should be.”
She turned and looked at Williams.
“You know what that means, right?”
Williams nodded, sadness etched across his face. He reached a hand out to her shoulder, then seemed to decide against it. He met her eyes, looking as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.
“I know what they mean to you.”
Amherst held back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
“We created them. We’re the ones to blame if they…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence, so she turned back around and hugged her glass closer.
Williams seemed to think for a moment, before standing up abruptly, startling Amherst into looking up at him.
“What are you doing?” she said warily.
“Getting you back to your weird college cult,” he replied with a smirk.
Amherst rolled her eyes.
“It’s called a consortium, and you’re just jealous because your closest neighbor is black and white and only talks in ‘Moo’s.’”
“You’d think that living in a commune would give you better people skills.”
“At least I have people skills. When’s the last time you spoke to another living creature? Corn doesn’t count.”
Williams turned bright red and huffed.
“Not true! I’ll have you know that I’m visiting Bowdoin tomorrow for lunch.”
Amherst barked in laughter.
“You know that’s just so they can show off their food, right?”
Williams turned even redder, then shook his head and held out a hand.
“Come on Number #2. Let’s get going.”
Amherst sobered and looked down at her feet.
“I don’t know if I can go back there.”
Williams narrowed his eyes.
“You might not have much time left with them. You should spend it while you still can.”
Amherst looked up, shocked at the surprising wisdom of his words.
Williams smirked and took out his car keys, twirling them around his finger.
“I brought the Tesla…”
Amherst laughed and grabbed his hand.
“There’s the showoff I love to hate,” she said, paying the bill and grabbing her coat. “You made me worried there. I was beginning to think there was some developmental merit to conversing with corn.”
Williams squawked indignantly, chasing Amherst out of the bar and into the pouring rain.