A Million Heavens Read Online Free PDF

any of them again.
    She knew she was not going to call them. Something was wrong with her. She was going to let her friendships dry up and blow off. She was going to stand by and allow that to happen.
CECELIA
    Professor Rose’s door was open a crack. He was Cecelia’s music history teacher. She peeked in and saw him at his computer, clicking around with the mouse. He was looking at women. Cecelia knocked and he shoved off from his desk, rolling across the small office on his chair. He pulled the door all the way open.
    â€œOffice hours?” said Cecelia.
    Professor Rose frowned. “By all means.”
    He opened a folding chair for Cecelia, then he sat back down. He didn’t get rid of what was on the computer screen, a couple dozen girls in bikinis.
    â€œI need to drop your class,” Cecelia told him.
    â€œIsn’t it too late?”
    â€œToday’s the last day.”
    â€œIt’s not a demanding class, is it?”
    â€œI can’t study. I can’t listen to music right now.”
    Professor Rose scratched the corner of his mouth.
    â€œIt’s Reggie,” Cecelia said.
    â€œI know you guys were close.”
    â€œWe had a band.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œWe used to listen to the music for this class together.”
    Each girl on the computer screen had her hometown and occupation under her picture. Three of them were from Scottsdale, Arizona. Professor Rose’s office was cramped with record albums. He had a well-trimmed beard that somehow made him appear more troubled than if he’d had an unruly beard.
    â€œI’m sorry you lost your friend,” he said. “He seemed like a good guy. I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend die on me. I’ve had a couple betray me. I don’t know what I should say to you. I never know what to say.” He looked amused, not genuinely. “People just stop living. They’re alive one day and not the next. It’s very weird, when you think about it. Isn’t it? It’s so strange. See, I’m terrible at this.”
    â€œNo,” Cecelia said. “You’re not terrible.”
    Professor Rose opened a drawer, closed it. “What instrument do you play?” he asked.
    â€œJust guitar.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, just guitar?”
    â€œGuitar,” Cecelia said.
    â€œThat’s better.”
    Professor Rose unhurriedly ran his eyes over the shelves and shelves of records. His screensaver popped on, obliterating the women.
    â€œDrop my class if you wish,” he told Cecelia, “but you should still listen to the music. If you’ve really got music, then music is all you’ve got. Look at me . I could’ve been playing in bands the last five years or I could’ve been teaching at this shithole. They let me stay here for five years, using me on the cheap.”
    Cecelia nodded, not really understanding what Professor Rose wastalking about. She didn’t like feeling sorry for Professor Rose. She didn’t feel like she needed to feel sorry for anyone.
    â€œI’m not going back to giving lessons,” he said. “No more teaching of any kind. They say it’s satisfying, but I have to disagree.”
    Cecelia sensed she needed to make her escape. She should’ve dropped the class over the computer and been done with it. It had seemed like the right thing to do, to let your professor know to his face you were quitting his class, but Cecelia now suspected that was an outdated custom. She suspected she’d always been too concerned with following the customs.
THE WOLF
    On his rounds, the moon high and shrunken above him, he encountered an injured bird. The bird was young and its wing was cleanly broken and when the wolf nosed in to examine, his breath on the bird, it did not wail in alarm. It was proud, perhaps. It shivered though there was never any wind over in this park, in this enclave where humans of bygone centuries had drawn their