Most of my classmates are taking science courses. Me, I prefer Shakespeare.

Claire Hathaway was not that much older than I was but she taught Shakespeare. “Let me get this straight. You need to get an A in my course because you are applying to medical school?”

ALL OF ME LIES THERE BY DAVID WATERS 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 97

Claire Hathaway was not that much older than I was but she taught Shakespeare.

“Let me get this straight. You need to get an A in my course because you are applying to medical school?”

“They did away with pre-medicine this year. Most of my classmates are taking science courses. Me, I prefer Shakespeare.”

My classmates mocked Claire because she sometimes wore mismatched nylons, one with a seam up the back and one without. I was OK with that. Hell, pantihose hadn’t been invented yet.

The day of my appointment with her she was wearing a tweed skirt that seemed too big and was rotated a bit to the left, and a gray wool sweater with an ink stain where her fountain pen had leaked. Most everyone used fountain pens in 1965. That was the year the Beatles played Shea Stadium. The year Malcolm X was assassinated. The year The Sound of Music was released.

Claire had ginger-colored hair, an unfashionable haircut, a crooked smile, or maybe it was the slash of red lipstick that was slightly crooked, and pale blue eyes.

“I do want to be a doctor,” I said, “but I am also attracted to Shakespeare, the plots, the characters, Lear, Hamlet. This sounds weird, don’t laugh at me, but I need all of that.”