ing crowd experimenting with LSD, peyote, mescaline, tripping their way through one hallucinogenic high after another. It’s rapidly becoming a dominant factor in the plan taking shape in her mind. Jonathan has a concerned look on his face. “You were talking in your sleep, but we couldn’t make out the words. We’re back and there’s about three hours before your first final. Come on, let’s get upstairs.” Denise sees now that they are indeed home. The dream is so fresh in her mind that she still remembers most of it. She can agonize all she wants for it to be real, but of course it is not. They are not on their way to an alternate universe. No one is closer to God. The wordstring has had neither magical nor transformative powers. “Goddammit!” she screams out. She presses her eyelids shut as if to wish away the fact that they’re standing on 114th street at 6 AM and she’s about to take a final for which she is ill-prepared. The day is already unseasonably warm and humid; it will be oppressive in the exam hall. She’s desperately trying to remember those last three words in the dream. At this moment, right this second, it’s the most important thing possible to her. She takes a notebook out of her bag, stops on the empty sidewalk. Ignoring Ed and Lisbeth’s questioning looks and Jonathan’s impatience to change their clothing and find breakfast, she pauses to write them
glassworks 40
down. Xenophobic youthful zookeeper. ~ There is a nervous moment of transit across the podium when they hear their names called out, a handshake with a dean none of them has ever met, and then they are holding the flimsy cardboard that represents their baccalaureate degree. Their parents are all there, basking in the glow of the moment. And just as suddenly, there are the goodbyes as these four friends go their separate ways. Commencement is over. Ed leaves immediately after the ceremony, back to Atlanta for a carefree summer before the med school grind begins. Lisbeth will head to Berkeley for the MFA program, determined to break in as a serious writer. She and Denise hug and hug endlessly before she drives home to New Haven. The last thing, the very last thing Denise says to Lisbeth before they part has nothing to do with congratulations or when they will visit over the summer, as they have promised themselves that they absolutely, definitely will. Instead, it’s the wordstring Denise wishes would have taken them all away. She repeats it into Lisbeth’s ear, just as she has insisted they repeat it together every day since they returned from Truro. It’s a strange goodbye, Lisbeth thinks, but she joins in with