Solitaire

“SO, TORI.” KENT scans his eyes over my next essay. “What was your opinion this time?”

It’s Friday lunchtime. I didn’t really have anything to do, so I came to give in my next English essay early: “To what extent is marriage the central concern of Pride and Prejudice?” It appears that Kent is talkative today—my least favorite character trait.

“I wrote a normal essay.”

“I thought you might.” He nods. “I still want to know what you thought.”

I try to think back to when I wrote it. Monday lunch? Tuesday? All the days blur into one.

“Do you think marriage is the central concern?”

“It’s a concern. Not the central concern.”

“Do you think that Elizabeth cares about marriage at all?”

I picture the film. “I think she does. But it doesn’t really occur to her when she’s with Darcy. Like, she doesn’t relate the two together. Darcy and marriage. They’re two separate problems.”

“Then what would you consider to be the central concern of Pride and Prejudice?”

“Themselves.” I put my hands in my blazer pockets. “They spend the whole thing trying to merge who they really are and who they’re seen as.”

Kent nods again as if he knows something that I don’t. “That’s interesting. Most people say that love is the main theme. Or the class system.” He puts my essay in a cardboard folder. “Do you read many books at home, Tori?”

“I don’t read.”

This seems to surprise him. “Yet you decided to take English literature A-level.”

I shrug.

“What do you do for fun, Tori?”

“Fun?”

“Surely you have a hobby. Everyone has a hobby. I read, for example.”

My hobbies are drinking diet lemonade and being a bitter asshole. “I used to play the violin.”

“Ah, you see? A hobby.”

I don’t like the implications of the word “hobby.” It makes me think of crafts. Or golf. Something that cheerful people do.

“I gave it up, though.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t enjoy it much.”

Kent nods for the hundredth time, tapping his hand on his knee. “That’s fair. What do you enjoy?”

“I like watching films, I guess.”

“What about friends? Don’t you like being with them?”

I think about it. I should enjoy being with them. That’s what people do. They hang around with friends for fun. They have adventures and they travel and they fall in love. They have fights and they lose each other, but they always find each other again. That’s what people do.

“Who would you consider to be your friend?”

I again take my time to think and make a list in my head.

Michael Holden—Most qualified candidate for friend status.

Becky Allen—Was best friend in past but obviously no more.

Lucas Ryan—See above.

Who else was my friend before this? I can’t really remember.

“Things certainly are a lot easier the fewer friends that you have.” Kent sighs, folding his arms against his tweed jacket. “But then, friendship comes with a lot of benefits.”

I wonder what he is talking about. “Are friends really that important?”

He clasps his hands together. “Think about all the films you’ve seen. Most of the people who do well, and turn out happy, have friends, yes? Often it’s just one or two very close friends. Look at Darcy and Bingley. Jane and Elizabeth. Frodo and Sam. Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Friends are important. People who are alone are usually the antagonists. Like Voldemort.”

“Even Voldemort had followers,” I argue, but the word “followers” just makes me think about my blog.

“Followers: yes. Friends? Real friends? Definitely not. You can’t always rely just on yourself, even though it can seem like an easier way to live.”

I disagree, so I choose not to say anything.

Kent leans forward. “Come on, Tori. Snap out of it. You’re better than this.”

“Better than what? Sorry my grades haven’t been good.”

“Don’t be dumb. You know this isn’t about that.”

I frown at him.

He frowns right back—a sarcastic frown. “Get a grip. It’s time for you to stand up. You can’t continue to let life’s chances just drift by.”

I stand up out of the chair and turn around to leave.

As I open the door, he murmurs, “Nothing’s going to change until you decide you want it to change.”

I shut the door behind me, wondering if I just imagined this entire conversation.