Room for Tomorrow

Tavi came back to our table the next day with a folded sheet of history notes and a tray balanced against her hip.

“Is this seat still free?” she asked.

The chair beside me had been empty. I had left it that way on purpose, though I had not decided whether that counted as an invitation or merely furniture management.

“Sure,” I said.

Oren moved his bag from the floor so she could set down her tray. He did it before she had to ask, which was the sort of small courtesy that could pass for nothing if you were determined not to notice it.

I was not particularly determined.

Tavi unfolded the notes between our trays. “I copied the dates from yesterday’s board. I missed the last part of the lecture. Does either of you know what she said about the treaty?”

Oren leaned over the page, keeping his hands on his own side of it. “She tied it to the border changes. The map in the textbook is easier to read than the one on the screen.”

He explained the sequence without making it sound like Tavi should already know. She listened, then asked him to go over one date again. He did.

Our lunches had been quieter before. Not silent; silence was too conspicuous, and the dining hall supplied enough noise for anyone who wanted cover. Still, Oren and I had developed a rhythm in which pauses belonged to us. Now Tavi filled them with practical questions, and Oren answered. I watched his attention move to her and back to the notes.

It was ordinary. That was what made it difficult to dismiss.

I unfolded my own history handout. “The dates on mine are clearer. You can use it.”

Tavi took it without fuss. “Thanks. I’ll bring it back after class.”

The ease of that exchange left me with nothing to object to. I pressed a corner of my napkin flat instead.

Oren glanced at my hand. He did not ask what was wrong. That was another thing he did: notice discomfort without turning it into a demand for explanation.

Tavi compared the two sets of notes and found a mismatch. “One of these has the year wrong.”

“Mine,” I said. “I wrote it down too quickly.”

She crossed out the date and wrote the corrected one neatly above it. “There. Now it’s both our problem.”

I smiled before I could decide whether I meant to. Oren caught it. His expression shifted at the edges, then settled again as he returned to his food.

Tavi finished her notes and told us she had a history quiz coming up. She wanted to review the material at lunch, if that was all right. She said it as a request, without trying to make it sound casual.