Author's Note: I forgot to make it clearer that Sybil is at Radcliffe, a former women's college in Cambridge, Mass. I meant to mention it and then forgot. Sorry.
His fingers stroked the shiny handle of his car door. This car had been Tom's life for so long he couldn't bear to part with it even if he couldn't use it properly anymore. He should give it to Michael, or Kieran, or even sell it but he couldn't bear to, not yet anyway.
Tom had always loved cars. Even at thirteen he had been working odd jobs and saving his money for a car he could someday call his own. A few years later when his older brother Kieran open his mechanic shop Tom was right there with him, working every day after school and then full time after graduation. Many times he could have bought a beat up car and had one to call his own but what he wanted was special. The car had been his baby before the war and had been left with careful instructions for care, it was still in perfect shape, and if left with Tom it would stay that way.
"It sure is handy that you don't have very many things to move, seeing as I'm doing all the work." Tom looked over at his brother, who was carrying a box away from the car. Tom had no doubt that Michael meant nothing beyond Tom's daydreaming but Tom felt the impact greater when he realized that Michael would be doing most the work. He cursed himself and his situation under his breath as he took a smaller suitcase and followed his brother into the small apartment.
The apartment was tiny, but size didn't matter. Tom had paid from his precious saving to have a place of his own and that was enough. He was even more thankful he had made that choice with the memory of last night fresh in his mind.
It had been another terrible night, stuck in the cold waiting hoping the next strike would not come. Come it had, bombs raining down on him and his comrades, smoke and flying debris adding to the instant confusion. Tom scrambled in the direction of escape, not knowing what was going on around him. Suddenly, with the drop of another bomb he was thrown against the wall something heavy landing on top of him. He screamed out in pain.
It was the pain that woke him. It only took a moment until he realized he was in the bedroom he grew up in, his brothers just feet away. The pain was the usual discomfort only heightened by a cramp. He rubbed the muscles furiously, holding back more groans of pain but not managing to hold back the tears. Tom knew there was no way that Michael and Ralph had slept through his initial outburst but he was glad they pretended to sleep on.
Just days ago he had told his family of his plans for college. He had presented the whole plan- having applied, been accepted, and found a place to live all before telling them. The surprise was evident, no Branson had ever gone to college, let alone one as good as Harvard. His good high school grades and the lack of men applying this year had helped him wrangle that.
Now he was here, hardly enough time to do anything before the semester started the next day, but he was here. Tom Branson, former mechanic, son of two Irish immigrants, was a Harvard student.
This wasn't what she thought she was getting into, or at least not what she had been hoping to be a part of. The girls who shared her hall all seemed nice enough, none seemed very serious though. In the chatter of the first night Sybil had asked the others what they were going to be studying. A little laughter had struck out, a girl named Gwen mentioned her business major but the majority seemed to be joking a little about their own. Ethel, Sybil's roommate had been as bold as to say she was there to study the Harvard men. The group's conversation then turned to who had beaus and who didn't but Sybil had a hard time letting the quick exchange go.
Of course she knew that some girls went to college with the goal of getting married. It had been an obvious thing when Mary had gone to school, but Sybil had thought for sure with all the changes that had come while the world was at war that some priorities would have changed as well.
Sybil's first few classes were already lacking in the depth she craved. She could tell from the teacher's introduction the first day in her beginning anatomy class that not even the teachers were taking their education seriously.
"In this class we were learn the basic parts of the human body, covering all the things you will need to know as mothers or maybe nurses." The professor had said.
Sybil's hand shot up and after it was lazily acknowledged she expressed her concerns, "will it be enough to help us when we get into our medical graduate programs?" This class was listed as a requirement for all pre-med majors.
He looked at her sternly, "young lady, it is my duty as your professor to teach you the things you will need when you are no longer a student here, the chances of one of you becoming a doctor now that the war is over is very slim so I won't be focusing on that in this class." Without giving her a chance for reply he started in on introducing the rest of the syllabus.
She had finished the class fuming. The fact that this man thought all his students would end up simply as wives and mothers was ridiculous and old fashioned. Women had been holding all kinds of jobs the last few years, why should that stop just because the men were home? Sybil had no problem with people getting married and having children but that didn't mean women needed to limit themselves. She wanted to be a doctor and she meant to do it.
