21

One session down, nineteen to go. It had been the longest hour of her life, having Professor Alden drilling every single word precisely into her head. Despite what he'd revealed about their connected pasts long before, he still remains firm with her. She knows why he does it, but it doesn't annoy her any less.

She busies herself with work to try and distract herself from what she'll eventually have to face. Mirana isn't home yet, much to her disappointment. She'd left Alice a note on her desk explaining that she had duties to attend to, which basically means that she's out there, fulfilling her duties as a school leader. Technically speaking, she should be with her, as Mirana's sort of "second in command", but she's grateful she doesn't have to be. After that session with Professor Alden, any additional social interaction would have probably put her in a foul mood.

She writes another meaningless sentence for her Religious Studies essay, the prompt this time being, "Why is Pleasure Faith a stain on the church as a whole?" Alice has long stopped caring about the moral qualms of these papers, noticing that the professor doesn't even read them. She's actually just copying a passage from her textbook, changing a word or two here and there to keep the task from becoming more monotonous than it already is. Since the papers are all handwritten, there's no software that's going to detect plagiarism, so she's not too fussed about it.

Her phone buzzes. Alice seriously considers ignoring it, but it might be someone important.

Unknown Number: I'd like to meet with you.

Alice frowns.

Alice: Who's this?

Unknown: Nivens.

Nivens?

Alice: How did you get my number?

Nivens: Mirana. Are you busy right now?

Alice glances at her textbook, then at the half page of essay she's written.

Alice: Not really. Where do you want to meet?

Nivens: There's a tea house I found while I was ill. It's called Ipalm.

What a curious name. Alice puts it into her phone's GPS and groans. It's an hour walk.

Alice: It might take me a bit. I'll be walking.

Nivens: I can pick you up.

It's quite prestigious, so dress nice.

A tie or a dress, whichever is more comfortable for you.

Alice: Alright, then.

Nivens: I'll be by in about ten minutes.

Alice shuts her textbook, paper inside, after marking the passage with pencil to finish copying later. Yes, this discussion is long overdue. She'd seen Nivens come undone, and then suddenly reappear, stronger than ever. The need to be heard, to be understood, is something Alice knows all too well, and she's going to give Nivens that.

Even if it means dressing up for some ridiculously fancy tearoom.

She roots around in her drawers for something to wear. She owns exactly one dress, but she'd rather not put that on. She doesn't have a tie, though. She peels through a pile of shirts and chooses a grey button down she hasn't worn in a while and pairs it with a pair of black dress pants. This'll have to do. She slips on her signature jean jacket and calls it done.

Nivens shows up behind the dorm building in a black Rolls-Royce. If that doesn't scream pretentious arsehole, nothing does, but Alice knows better. It's all to protect himself, but she can't help but wonder how he can afford that. He wears a lavender vest, matching bowtie, and a black dress shirt underneath. His pocket watch pokes out from the vest pocket, as usual. Alice climbs into the passenger seat, and they're off.

The drive over is silent, but Alice knows that they'll have plenty of time to talk once they've arrived. Nivens has certainly changed. The dark circles and the redness at his waterline have faded considerably, and as he drives he sits up much straighter than before, eyes firmly trained on the road.

Ipalm is a quaint little shop on a street corner looking slightly out of place with its boxy shape. Inside, it is completely wooden, with large arched windows to let in as much natural light as possible. The furniture is simply elegant — round little tables surrounded by high-backed brown leather chairs trimmed with eggshell white material, the seating arrangements ranging from two chairs to a table to five at most. Soft, classical piano plays on speakers mounted in the ceiling corners while lavender incense burns, a calming aroma that permeates the entire room. Everyone is dressed in business casual attire, though Alice remains the only woman in a dress shirt. The owner recognizes Nivens right away and seats them immediately at what is apparently Nivens's reserved table, right in front of the largest window peering out into the street. He asks Nivens if he'll have his usual, then asks Alice what she'll have. She asks for a green tea, no additives, and he goes to put in their order. A second server comes out with a plate of shortbread fingers and another plate bearing chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla macarons. After asking Alice if there's anything she'd like and her politely declining, the second server flits over to the next table to check on those patrons. Alice isn't quite sure what to say, neither having directly spoken a word to the other.

"You must come here often." she tries, hoping that will trigger the rest of this conversation.

"At least once a week." Nivens says. "My therapist approves." He lifts a strawberry macaron off the top of the little tower, taking a bite. He smiles happily, and the tension diffuses a bit. He gestures at the plate. "Try one, they're lovely."

Alice picks out a chocolate one from the bottom tier and takes a careful bite. Light, airy, with just the perfect amount of crunch and a pleasant cocoa sweetness. They're divine. The cream is heaven on her tongue, perfectly cool and smooth. She swallows. "Thank you." she says.

"You're most welcome."

The owner comes out with their teas, two white teacups slightly larger than the ordinary. He sets Niven's Earl Grey flavoured with a bit of milk and honey in front of him, then Alice's plain green. He smiles and gives Nivens a gentle pat on the shoulder before attending to the other tables.

As soon as the owner is out of earshot, Nivens leans forward. "How much do you know?" he asks.

Alice frowns, not understanding. "About?"

"Me. What have they told you?"

"Who?"

"Anyone."

Alice takes a sip of her tea and nearly burns her tongue on it. She carefully replaces the cup back onto its saucer. "Nothing much, really. I know what you have, but that's all."

"I want you to know that history will not repeat itself." Nivens says. "I have learned that becoming unstable solves nothing, helps no one. That giving up is not the answer. I know that there is still a conflict to be resolved, and should you ever need my assistance, in any way, I will gladly give it."

"We'll get to that in a minute." Alice says. "Not that I don't appreciate it, I do." she says quickly. "But how did you recover? It's like you're a completely different person."

"I realized I couldn't live my life cowering in fear, hiding behind my position in the school. Positions mean nothing when there's someone out there much stronger than you, someone who can overpower you. So as soon as I was stabilized again, I asked my father to hire a speech therapist in addition to my mental health therapist. It was a massive step for me. I wasn't used to the idea that it's okay to ask for help. I spent hours with the speech therapist, and even when he was gone I'd practice on my own, reciting classical texts before dinner for my family every night, until one day I made it through an entire soliloquy without a single mistake or faltering once. That alone gave me hope that I could change who I was, that I didn't have to let these handicaps define me as a person." Nivens dips a shortbread finger into his tea, then bites the end of it off with a soft crunch. "I have done my suffering, and now I am stronger for it. I see my mental health therapist every Wednesday, and I come here every Monday, unless something comes up. This is where I go to calm down, to recenter myself. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else about this place. I like it the way it is, an oddity, unknown to most."

While Alice would have liked to share this place with Mirana, she understands where Nivens is coming from. "I promise I won't mention it to anyone."

"Thank you, Alice. Now, there's something else I need to tell you, but I'd rather you not need to use it unless it's absolutely necessary."

Alice takes an experimental sip of her tea. It's cooled enough for her to drink it. "Alright." This must be what he's really here to talk to her about.

He lowers his voice to almost a whisper, though there's enough idle chatter that it's almost unnecessary. "I have incriminating evidence against Bumby, data that could get him locked away for the rest of his life."

"What?" Alice yelps.

"Shhhh!" Nivens hurriedly hushes her, pinching her lips together. He glances around, but no one seems to have noticed Alice's outburst. He releases them. "Not so loud." he hisses.

"Sorry." Alice whispers. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I wanted to make sure I could trust you." Nivens explains. "The thing is, this has to be an absolute last resort."

"Why?"

"Because if you mention it to the court, it could ruin my entire family."

Alice folds her arms, unsure of how to feel about Nivens concealing this very crucial information. "How so?"

"My father worked with Angus for a year before he met my mother, ages before Angus received his doctorate. He was his partner, working on their dissertations together. They were both willing to do anything to receive that honour, including experiments that would be considered unethical." Nivens draws out a thin black pen drive with a single red stripe of electrical tape wrapped around the middle. "My father created this two years after the experiments, unable to bear having physical copies any longer. This contains all the research, every bit of data collected during that time before the experiments were shut down and Bumby wiped any trace of it outside of this. My father was keeping it for blackmail in case Bumby ever tried to threaten him for deserting him, but he says that you'll need it much more, if it ever comes to that. If you want to read the files, you must never let them leave this drive. The second they do, they will be open to Bumby and he'll infiltrate your system and destroy them. As far as he knows, he has obliterated all traces of his experiments from existence. We need to keep it that way." He holds it out to Alice, but before she can take it from him, he pulls his hand back. "I need you to swear to me, Alice, that you won't use this unless it's absolutely necessary."

Alice nods. "I swear."

As soon as the words leave her lips, Nivens presses the pen drive into Alice's hand. Alice in turn carefully tucks it into her jeans pocket, as if it's an explosive device that may go off if handled too roughly. Their own secret weapon.

"Thanks, Nivens."

"And one more thing." Nivens says. "Don't tell Mirana, either. Not a soul, not even her."

Of course. "I promise."

"Very good. It's nothing personal, Alice, it's just I'd like as few people to know about this as possible. My family history is not a suitable dinner table topic, if you catch my drift." Alice nods, drinking more of her tea. "But enough of that. This outing needn't be so dark. Now that this is out of the way, we can relax, enjoy ourselves. I know we haven't exactly had the best memories of each other, but I'm willing to bury those in favour of a brighter future." He takes a deep swig of his tea, relaxing into his chair. His eyes are light, peaceful. It's the calmest Alice has ever seen Nivens. "Let's stay awhile." His eyelids flutter shut as he continues to sip his tea. His voice drops to a soft lull. "Forget about the impending darkness that's always ready to consume us, if given the chance."

Alice leans back, watching the world go by outside the window. She takes another macron, a vanilla one this time, and takes a bite. Sweet, vanilla bean. A bird flies past, aimless and free.

Alice wonders what it'd be like to be the bird, to fly without direction, to simply be without expectations.

Yet here she is on the ground, rooted by responsibility.

Once all this is over, truly over, she's going to fly away. Maybe to China.

Yes, China sounds wonderful.