Quiet
She had to break the quiet.
Funny, at first there was only noise. Big bursts of laughter and celebration all over the grounds, everyone excited that finals were finally over and the holidays were here. Kids in her hall giving each other silly little gifts, hugs, and joyous Christmas wishes as their parents came to pick them up, or they gathered on busy shuttles headed to the airport.
But the quiet quickly replaced the once cheerful noise.
It's not like she wasn't expecting it. She had experienced the moment before, but she could never really get used to it. To make things worse, this was the first year she was experiencing the quiet truly alone. At boarding school she could always count on her brother Will to distract her from the silence and the longing for Christmas' past, and once he graduated she had her friend Joey who never left for the holidays either. This year she had neither.
Elizabeth had to do something before the quiet swallowed her whole.
She walked into town in search of any distraction. The store window displays on University Avenue were all decorated for the holidays in reds and greens with snowflakes, and even a collection of Thomas Jefferson mannequins dressed as Santa Claus. But no people. The corner was so still Elizabeth could even hear the signals of the traffic light as it changed. Flurries started to fall as an idea struck her. She crossed against the light and headed back to the University grounds.
Elizabeth lucked out. The doors to Gibson Hall weren't locked. She walked down the hallway and entered into a familiar room, hitting the lights and taking off her flurry-covered coat.
She turned on the television. The political science department's study lounge was one of the few lounges at UVA with a television, especially a television connected to cable. CNN popped on in the midst of a story on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The first real noise she had heard all day. Usually this would have interested her, but she wanted to get away from heavy thinking. She changed the channels, stopping once it landed on MTV.
Pat Benatar appeared on the screen.
Elizabeth smiled, and attempted to follow along with the music video's choreography. 'Why not,' she thought, 'no one is around.' She bounced around to the music, really getting into it. As she danced, she started belting the words with her girl Pat, not noticing she had gained an audience of one in the lounge doorway.
"Whooo-ooaaaa. We are strong. No one can tell us we're wrong–"
"Excu– excuse me, I was supposed to meet my friend, but his office is locked. Have you seen any professors walk by recently?"
Elizabeth's face turned red. She knew her singing voice wasn't very good, and now to be caught out by a stranger. Feelings of utter embarrassment ran through her as she looked up to see the witness of her performance, a tall, distinguished-looking man in his late 30s, wearing a grey work suit.
"Um, no one's here. The university closed yesterday for Christmas. UVA's practically a ghost town from now to New Year's."
"You sure?"
"There might be some stragglers here or there, but I haven't seen them."
He stared her down. 'He's studying me,' she thought. She was starting to wonder if she should be worrying about her safety. 'Why was he here,' she wondered. She decided to speak up.
"Christmas Eve's an odd time to have a meeting, isn't it?"
"I guess that's true." The man in the suit rubbed at the back of his neck in a way that seemed familiar to Elizabeth. It clicked.
"Wait a minute. I know you. Mr. Dalton, right? You were Professor Orton's guest speaker on U.S and Iran foreign relations during the Carter presidency."
He laughed warmly. "So I am. And you are?"
"Elizabeth Adams."
Elizabeth offered her hand and as he shook it she smiled slightly. The shake was firm, with the skin just a tad rough. It reminded her of her father's hands. The hands of a man with a white-collar job, but with an interest in some outdoor hobby. Her father's interest being taking care of the horses on the farm, but Mr. Dalton didn't strike her as a horse guy. She had a hunch he was into something else, maybe hunting.
"Speaking of Christmas Eve, why aren't you home for the holidays?"
Elizabeth took an inward breath. "My brother volunteered to work the holiday shifts at the hospital where he's interning." She held onto the breath as she waited for his follow up question about her parents. It was never easy laying out the fact they were dead, especially to a stranger. She never knew in that moment whether she should feel sorry for them for asking the question or to just feel sorry for herself.
Instead, the man just nodded and accepted her response about her brother. She felt a sense of relief.
He turned the topic back to the class she recognized him from. "So, Professor Orton's class, huh. Are you interested in a life in politics, then?"
"Not exactly. It's probably naïve, but I'm more interested in keeping the world a safe place, than running for office."
"Idealistic, but not naïve. I, too, believe there are more ways to change the world than by holding office."
He was staring her down again. Elizabeth was wondering what he was thinking when he finally spoke up.
"Well, I think I'm going to check his office one more time before I leave. It was nice to meet you, Bess."
Elizabeth looked at him, confused, "Bess?"
"Oh, I knew an Elizabeth once, we all called her Bess. I hope you don't mind."
"No. I think I like it." She tried it out, "'Bess.'" It sounded nice. More mature than 'Lizzie.'
He offered his hand to her again. "Merry Christmas, Bess."
She shook it warmly. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Dalton."
"Hey, if I can call you 'Bess,' you can call me Conrad."
She smiled. "Fair enough. Merry Christmas, Conrad."
He smiled back at her then nodded in the direction of the lounge window.
"You better take care now, looks like that snow is really starting to come down." And with that Conrad turned and left.
"So, what do you think?" Professor Orton asked, pouring a glass of scotch and offering it to the man who appeared in his office doorway.
Conrad took the glass from his friend and sat in the chair opposite the politics professor, "You're right, Don. Bess is a perfect candidate." He took a sip, as they both sat looking at the snowflakes fall in the quiet night.