Persie has changed so much since that first dinner when I’d shown up a few unforgivable minutes late. Will she be able to live on her own someday? That might be too much to hope for, but I’m fairly sure she’ll be more independent than Brian ever thought she could be. He was very impressed with my Theory of Knowledge paper, and I’m pretty sure he’ll keep giving her chances to stretch herself.
I want her to see the Clyfford Still Museum in Denver.
And I want Mum and Brian to be happy together.
And I want Kay to win!
Daren and I are considered an item at school, though we see our connection as much looser than that. Even so, we have done a few more things together, including a serious make-out session once when I visited him at his parents’ home in Newton. He knows I’m headed for Oxford, and he’ll be at Harvard next year. So, as with Luther (whom I’m also still seeing occasionally), it’s for the simple pleasure of being with someone. No strings. No expectations. Just a lot of fun.
Almost forgot. I threw out my razor blades.
Part III
A Whole New Chapter
Oxford, Thursday, 4 July (Independence Day in Boston)
Oxford. Oxford! I’m over the moon. I don’t have the mental focus to document the trip over or the logistics of renting a furnished flat until I can move into my Pembroke rooms. I’m looking forward to digging into the things Mum and I put into storage nearly a year ago and pulling out what I’ll use at Pembroke.
Mum wanted me to stay in Boston through the summer, of course, until the fall sessions begin. But I wanted to go home. Staying in Boston felt like so much time being killed.
I will devote some space here to Miss Kay Lloyd, second runner-up in the Scripps National Spelling Bee. I went with her and her mother to the competition in May. She was magnificent. Being one of the final three contestants meant she had all the time she could have asked for on stage. Abby and I had gone with her earlier in the month to shop for clothes, and she looked beautiful up there in a white blouse with a lace collar and a pale blue skirt. She was so confident, so adorable, and her bubbly personality sent the audience into laughter so often that she was dubbed Kay the Comedienne.
I thought she might be unhappy about coming in third. I should have known better. “I’ll win next year. And my hair will be longer!”
Her hormone treatments began as soon as she got home. She’s starting in a new school in the fall, and she’ll be able to present herself as who she really is.
Parting with Luther had gone about as I had expected. We’d seen each other several times after that special, wonderful New Year’s evening together. We didn’t have sex every time, and when we did he didn’t always play top. Usually, though. He’s so good at it.
We took a walk through the Boston Public Garden, sat on a bench for a bit, talked about where we’d be this time next year. He’s been accepted into Columbia for the next phase of his academic studies in philosophy, so he’s going to New York City. Might be a good place to visit someday.
When we got up from that bench we embraced, kissed, and walked in different directions.
I rang Michael up a few weeks before I left. It was an odd conversation, and it left me feeling I had been right; I couldn’t really have helped him. He’s gone back to X, back to pretending he’s straight. It makes me very sad. I just don’t know what to do about it. And I can’t help wondering if friends of addicts feel at least a little like this: I want to help, but the change has to come from inside him. I also can’t help wondering how badly things would have gone if I’d responded differently, if we’d started a relationship.
Not all love is meant to be, I guess. Still, this is one problem that isn’t mine that I really wish I could have helped resolve.
I’ve been putting off writing about what it was like to leave my family behind. And that is what they’ve become. My relationship with my mother will never be roses and candy, but it’s a hell of a lot better than it was a year ago. We treat each other with respect and affection now; I think we’ve both learned a lot about each other—and about ourselves.
I would never in a million years have thought I’d miss Brian. But I do. We developed a camaraderie that matured over evenings in the music room, trying different brandies and cognacs, critiquing different performances of music we both know and love. He has quite an acerbic side to his personality, too, when he lets it out, and some evenings we tried to outdo each other, neither willing to reveal how brilliant he thought the other’s last comment was, both often fighting laughter that would reveal exactly that. And often we lost that fight.
Persie gave me a going-away present. Clyfford Still: The Artist’s Museum, by Sandra Still Campbell. It’s full of glorious colour plates of his work and describes his life and the creation of the museum in Denver. I was quite moved. I gave her my iPad; it’s a great way to display art, and I knew I’d need something different at home anyway because of the different power supply. Besides, it was a good excuse to get a new one. As I was leaving the house for the airport, with Mum and Brian, Persie threw herself at me bodily. My arms went around her, and I realised with a shock that we had never touched before.
I’ve left Ned till last because of the connection we had. And also because of a certain shame I feel. As wonderful and sensitive as he’d been to me, and as much help as he’d given me, it wasn’t until the night of that party in October that I had asked about him, about his life, other than that challenge I’d thrown at him about maybe needing a push (when he told me he’d finished his master’s degree in food science). And although I met Manuel eventually, I didn’t ask much of anything else.
So the Saturday before I left, when he sent iced tea and biscuits up in the dumbwaiter for our last rooftop repast and handed me his going-away present, I was stunned. It’s a watercolour drawing he did himself. It’s beautiful and poignant, full of love and tenderness. The near ground is a tangle of brambles, black and reddish brown, thorny and massive. But on the left side, a passage has been torn through them. Leading away from them is a faint path over soft green grasses, winding diagonally up to the right under a soft blue sky. Barely on the paper, where the path disappears, the blue of the sky gently feeds into faint rainbow colours. Not a rainbow, nothing that obvious—just the colours. It’s titled The Colour of Life. And “colour” is spelled just like that—the UK English way.
I cried, and it wasn’t only because it was so beautiful and so perfect and so “us.” It wasn’t just because I expected never to have another connection like this one. It was also because I hadn’t even known he could draw. A talent like this, and I hadn’t known.
If he realised what I was feeling, he said nothing about it. He did tell me his plans, though, despite the fact that I’d never asked again.
“You asked me once, when I told you that you needed a push, if I might need one, too.” He took a sip of tea. “You were right. I did. And you, Simon, you pushed me.”
“I did?”
“Yup. Because all that great advice I was giving you? I needed to take it, myself. My brambles were different. They had more to do with lack of confidence. With fear, even, that I wasn’t good enough to follow my own path. I’ve watched you clearing away bramble after bramble and making baskets out of them where you’ve packed everything you want to take with you. It’s inspired me.” He leaned back in his chair and grinned. “I’m going to art school in the fall.”
“Ned! That’s—oh, my God, that’s so wonderful! Where?”
“RISD. Rhode Island School of Design. So I’ll cook for Brian through most of the summer and then head to Providence.”
“And . . . Manuel?”
“Oh, he’s coming with me. His company has a branch there. He works from home half the time, anyway. And I have more news.”
“Yes?”
“We’re getting married in August.”
I couldn’t sit there any longer. I jumped out of my chair and pulled him to his feet for a long, long embrace. As I sat down again, I a
sked when, and if there would be guests.
“August tenth. It will be small, but yes, a few guests. Brian and your mom will be invited. I’m not expecting you to come back for it, though.”
“If I want to, am I invited?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll be there. With bells on.”
So the final lesson I take from Ned is that I have it in me to let the sweetness, the connection of a wonderful relationship be one-sided. To let it be all about me. That won’t happen again.
I took a tourist bus around the city today, in the open top of a double-decker. Great way for me to get the lay of the land, as it were, and start to feel at home in my new home.
Graeme sat beside me on the bus, smiling with me, at me, helping me remember everything we were seeing. It felt bittersweet. I’m not sure, but it was almost as though he were letting me know that it’s close to the end for us, that he’d seen me safely here, carried me through my exile, and soon we won’t be together any longer. I will miss him so much. But if that’s the way it has to be, I can take it.
Because I’m here. I’m home.
Bright yellow
Bright orange, terra cotta, Kelly green, lilac
Brick red, periwinkle
Bright orange, bright yellow, pale green, lilac.
Appendix: Letter Colours
A pale yellow N coral
B sky blue O terra cotta
C pale brown P black
D dark brown Q forest green
E lilac R bright red
F pale green S blood red
G fuchsia T bright blue
H cream U pale pink
I bright yellow V Kelly green
J maroon W navy
K hot pink X dove grey
L bright orange Y periwinkle
M brick red Z dark purple
A READING GROUP GUIDE
EDUCATING SIMON
Robin Reardon
ABOUT THIS GUIDE
The suggested questions are included to enhance
your group’s reading of Robin Reardon’s
Educating Simon.
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
As the story opens, Simon is not a very likable person and, in fact, essentially has no friends. He acts as though not only does this not trouble him, but also that it’s actually the way he likes things. By the end of the story, do you think he has changed into someone capable of real friendship ? If so, do you think he could be friends with someone he didn’t consider to be at least close to his intellectual equal?
In the beginning of the story, Simon is furious with his mother for uprooting him at a critical juncture in his academic career. He comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t matter very much to her, that her guilt over a childhood event and the absolution he thinks she wants are more important to her than the rest of his life. Do you think he’s correct? Toward the end of the story, as he looks back over what happened as a result of his mother’s decision, do you think the results exonerate the selfishness that Simon saw in her?
Simon’s very early take on Persie is that she’s a cat who needs an attitude adjustment. What characteristics has he noted that bring him to this conclusion? Who else in the story has similar character traits?
Do you think Michael Vitale is gay? If so, do you think Straight Edge can change that? If he’s not gay, what is the source of his attraction to Simon?
When Kay tells Simon her secret, Simon finds it confusing and has at least some trouble taking it seriously. If you don’t identify as transgender, how does what she tells Simon feel to you? Is it real, or in her imagination? Should she be encouraged or discouraged? If you do identify as transgender, what do you think would help those who don’t understand how real and how undeniable the situation is for you?
According to Ned Salazar, Luther Pinter “puts his own needs first a little more often than I would want in a partner.” Based on how Luther handles his time with Simon, do you agree, or would you describe Luther differently?
Simon’s meditation in the Boston College labyrinth leads him to understand that he wants the “Hallelujah” referred to in the Leonard Cohen song by the same name. What do you think he means by that? What would a relationship based on the Hallelujah look like to you?
After the bombings, Persie insists on seeing the memorial items near the marathon finish line. As she watches Simon react to the display of hats, she is troubled by her own inability to feel strongly about what happened on April 15. Can you put yourself in her shoes? Will your own capacity for empathy make that possible?
Consider Simon’s relationship with the imaginary Gorgeous Graeme throughout the story. When Simon returns to London and visits Swithin Academy, he encounters the real Graeme Godfrey for the first time in several months. As you watch this encounter, how disconcerting do you find the difference between the two GGs? Do you think Simon will be able, finally, to leave Graeme behind? Can you imagine having a lover who isn’t real but who would always be there for you, who would understand your needs and troubles, who would love you as you need to be loved and make no conflicting demands? If you can, how difficult would it be to end that relationship? What would have to happen for you to be able to let it go?
When Simon learns about Oxford’s initial decision regarding granting him an interview, he goes through a transformation, or he believes he does. And when the decision is reversed, he believes himself to be less invested in his father’s dream. Do you believe him? And after he returns to Boston and finds Kay in trouble, is his response to her problem—and the degree to which he involves himself—another transformation, or the only true one?
Cinderella At The Grave
From INTO THE WOODS
Words and Music by Stephen Sondheim
© 1988 RILTING MUSIC, INC.
All Rights Administered by WB MUSIC CORP.
All Rights Reserved. Used by Permission
Reprinted by Permission of Hal Leonard Corporation
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2014 by Robin Reardon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-8477-8
eISBN-10: 0-7582-8477-2
First Kensington Electronic Edition: August 2014
ISBN: 978-0-7582-8476-1
Educating Simon Page 40