“Good morning everyone.” Professor Vitelli said quietly, standing in his usual spot in front of the projector screen.

Harmony stood next to him. We made eye contact and shared a shy smile.

“I know several students have asked for extensions and have asked to be excused from class this week. We are all recovering. I’ll start by announcing that today attendance will not be taken. If you need to go home, or need time to yourself, please take it. If drawing helps you, as it helps me, you are welcome to stay.”

The students shuffled nervously in their seats. Two got up, and when the professor nodded to them, many more joined. After they’d left, only five or so remained. Even Kennan took the opportunity to go.

“For the rest of you: you may work on your still life, your self-portrait project, or if you’d like to talk, I’m happy to listen.”

“Professor…” Greg Walton-MacVarnovsky said.

“Yes, Mister Greg?”

“I… Have a question…” He asked in a rare moment of vulnerability.

“Of course.” Vitelli answered, reading the sensitivity of the moment.

He tapped Harmony on the shoulder to take over if anyone else had questions and wove his way over to Greg to talk more intimately. Harmony relaxed a bit and approached me.

“How are you?” They asked.

“I’m ok. It feels surreal. Knowing what happened, not being able to tell anyone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not bad. How are you?”

“This particular week I always see flashes of previous iterations. More vividly than normal. I see all the different results of Sunday’s events simultaneously, overlapping each other. I wonder how those other worlds are doing, and spend time mourning each one.”

“Wow. That sounds hard.”

“Thank you, for your empathy. Will you draw?” They asked.

“I think so. I also wanted to show Vitelli my drawings of the bridge. I thought he might like them.”

“Give him one.”

“Give?” I said. Harmony nodded, not answering, and walked over to their easel.

That bothered me.

I carved away at my still life. It wasn’t evolving well, and it took all the self-control I had not to start over or erase major decisions I’d already made. The whole piece was out of proportion because I’d made a vase far too small and a tea kettle far too large. But I worked on until the professor walked by.

“Hey Professor Vitelli.” I said, catching his attention.

“Hello Miss Rachel. How is your still life developing?”

“Uh… eh? I’m gonna finish it, but it’s not my favorite.”

“I understand.” He said knowingly.

“So, um, last Friday Harmony and I went to Cincinnati…”

“I nearly forgot! Mx Harmony told me you had a fantastic time but not much more. How was it?” He asked, sitting in an empty stool beside me.

“It was amazing. The aquarium was a bit busy, but totally worth it. We saw so many jellyfish. Like tanks and tanks of them. And we ate at this unbelievable Jamaican restaurant. And…”

As I gushed, a smile grew across Vitelli’s face.

“Well. I actually wanted to… give you something.” I finished.

“A gift?”

“You told me to do some drawing while I was there. Here.”

I opened a folder and handed Professor Vitelli one of the loose-leaf sketches I’d done in the car. It was a quick line study of the arch I’d done while looking out the back window. He took it gingerly in his hands and stared at it.

“It’s the Roebling Bridge.” I clarified, feeling the urge to explain the drawing.

“It’s… Wonderful.” He finally said.

“Oh, I’m glad you like it.”

A tear rolled around the professor’s nose and got caught in the stubble on his lip.

“Professor?” I asked, suddenly aware he was crying.

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry. Thank you… I’m very fortunate to have you as a student in my class, Miss Rachel.” He said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his eyes.

“Are you ok?”

“Oh yes. I’m quite alright. In fact, I’m better than I’ve been in some time.” A hint of sadness glimmered in his eyes as he turned and walked away.

What had Harmony made me do?

--

The blue door in Kennan’s yard had fallen over, India was making it into an outdoor coffee table. We sat on the couch around her as she painted it with epoxy. John had brought over a bunch of power tools, and Harmony was on their way.

“Girl, I can’t fuckin’ believe it was Lucas. I knew him. We met at orientation.” Sammy shook her head.

“I’m just glad you weren’t at the lab on Sunday.” India sighed.

“I’m in orgo, I don’t use the chem lab. I took it in high-school so I got to skip the class. But I could’ve been there.”

“That’s crazy, dude.” Kennan muttered.

“It’s crazy, but also it’s not. I mean, this shit keeps happening, and it only happens here in the US.” India said.

“Guns?” Kennan asked half-heartedly.

“Fuck guns. Fuck the NRA.” India declared.

“I think it’s a cultural thing too…” I piped up, having been quiet for most of the conversation.

The three of them looked at me, silently asking me to explain myself.

“Like, I think there’s something American about violence. It’s been what the country does best since… The beginning. Since before the beginning. I mean, Americans were committing genocide upon the native cultures before the country even existed. And it was… sanctioned. Praised. Slavery, the Civil War, Westward expansion, all of it was violence that then got glorified.”

“It’s a White thing too.” Sammy said.

“Ok, wait a second. I hate guns too, and I’ve never been in a fight in my life.” Kennan held up his hands, the only White person around.

“Sammy’s right though. These school shooters are usually White.” I said.

“And male.” Sammy added.

“Whiteness enforces a racial hierarchy through violence. It’s not about you, Kennan. I love you, but you’re White as hell. And even if you don’t personally use violence, the system is violent, and you benefit from it.” India explained.

“Ok I know the government is racist. But there are other White countries that don’t have school shootings.” Kennan argued.

“That’s true, but colonialism is a form of violence as well. Like, even if the UK doesn’t have school shootings like we do, they perpetuated and still perpetuate a lot of violence around the world.” I cut in.

“So, for school shootings… Is it just the guns?” Kennan asked.

“I mean, fuck guns, but I think it goes deeper than that. Think about all the serial killers we’ve had. Before school shooters were really a thing. People fucking obsessed over them.” I pointed out.

“White people still do!” India exclaimed.

“It’s true, that’s a White people thing.” Sammy echoed.

“Come on guys…”

“It’s systemic!” Both India and Sammy said in unison.

Kennan backed down, defeated.

“There is a certain feeling of entitlement to fame and fortune that is uniquely American.” Came Harmony’s voice from the steps.

“Yo, Harmony!” Kennan greeted, looking relieved to see another White person. Harmony nodded to him.

“The American dream of the stay-at-home wife, two kids, and a picket fence is only a minor evolution of Manifest Destiny. White male Americans still feel they have a divine right to anything they see. Sorry Kennan, that means you have to do some work to fight against the norm. I do too. It’s always easier to be complacent.” Harmony shrugged. They made eye contact with me and kissed their fingers gently, then gave it to me through the air.

“Ugh.” Kennan sighed dramatically.

“You do a pretty good job; you just need to read some books.” India said.

“I try… Well. Anyone want a beer? Harmony?”

“Yes please, the IPA.”

“Anyone else?” He asked briefly before vanishing inside.

Harmony was about to sit down but I stood instead.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” I asked.

“Of course.”

We cut through the house. I passively looked for John but didn’t see him; I’d have to find him later. As we walked through the kitchen, Harmony grabbed a beer from Kennan and thanked him on our way out the back door. He looked confused but didn’t protest.

Outside, I slumped into a lawn chair and Harmony joined me in the adjacent.

“Is something wrong?” They asked.

“Not really. But, kind of. I guess.” I mumbled, trying to organize my thoughts.

Harmony gave me room.

“I’m feeling… Manipulated. Sometimes.” I said.

“By me, I presume?”

“Yeah. Yes. I want to talk about it because I don’t think it’s, uhm, malicious or anything. But I feel uncomfortable.”

“I feel embarrassed.” Harmony said softly.

“I’m sorry.” I responded instinctively.

“I should be the one apologizing, I’m sorry. I want to hear more about how I made you feel. Or make you feel.”

“Well… It happens a lot, actually. You… I feel like I don’t have control. That when I’m with you, things always work out. Which is great a lot of the time. Sometimes it’s awesome. Because of it I get to eat at amazing Jamaican restaurants, and you always bring me the right kind of coffee… But it’s not… It doesn’t feel real. Sometimes I feel like I’m just on a train going where you’ve laid the tracks. It feels like no matter what I do, I can’t control where we’re going. Does that kind of make sense?”

“It does.”

“I know you find comfort in this sort of thing, and I don’t want to take that away from you, but this needs to be a conversation.”

“You’re right. About both.”

“But I’m not unhappy with where we’re going, I just want to decide sometimes.”

“You decided on Cincinnati.”

“Sort of. You picked Cincinnati based on my… parameters. But that’s not the point. I wasn’t even trying to pick a place. I don’t want to be making decisions instead of you, I want to make my own. And I want them to matter. Regardless of where we went, the trip is an example of you laying out the tracks. I was only along for the ride.”

“I see.” Harmony said, but they didn’t look like they understood.

“Remember when we talked about making the first move? And you said you wanted me to lead sometimes? I’m asking to lead more.”

“Lead more in other circumstances?”

“Let me try a different example. This morning when you told me to give one of my drawings to Vitelli. Why did you do that?”

“I don’t understand, should I not have?”

“Well, first tell me why.” I insisted.

“Professor Vitelli used to receive drawings in the mail from his old students in Italy. He took a sabbatical and the students missed him, they would send him sketches and ask how he was doing. This was twenty years ago. He quit teaching right after the sabbatical when his sister fell ill, to take care of her, so his class continued to send him drawings and letters wishing him and his sister well. He would always write everyone back, send them drawings of his own, but eventually they graduated and moved on with their lives. He only started teaching again last year, and I thought it would make him happy to receive a drawing from you.”

I breathed in deeply. I felt like a jerk.

“Perhaps I should have told you all of this first? Before telling you to give him the drawing?”

“I wish you had. Then it would have been me deciding to do a nice thing for him, instead of me being manipulated by you.”.

“I find myself making this mistake regularly now.”

“That’s because this is new. I get it. But I want to be on the inside. You told me about the loop, about everything so that I could be with you. Let me be with you.”

“I’m… sorry. I do want you with me.” Harmony said.

“Then stop pretending like I can’t handle anything. Trust me a little.”

“Alright. That’s more than reasonable. I appreciate your patience with me. I’ll get better.”

“Yeah, you will. Can I get a hug?”

“Yes.” Harmony moved like they were about to stand, but I quickly rolled out of my chair into theirs. They relaxed after the initial shock of my landing and wrapped me in their arms.

“Now I actually do want you to use that big brain of yours and predict something for me. Where is John right now?” I asked.

“I would imagine if he’s here and not in sight, he’s probably trying to fix India and Kennan’s water heater. He often does so at these parties.”

“He’s so weird. I love it.”

“Is this about your uncle the glass-blower?”

“Yeah! I think we found John a replacement for his tube amp!”

“I adore you.” Harmony said.

“Kiss me?” I asked with a big grin.

And they did.