I’m in the middle of answering a question on the decorative arts of Asia when my phone beeps loudly with a text. The visiting Chinese professor and author, Biming Liu, is listening intently when it sounds. Thank God it’s not a phone call.

I force my attention away from my phone and finish my thought without further interruption. Then I sink into my seat and dig inside my backpack for the phone. I find it sandwiched between the pages of my Asian Design Principles textbook. I’m about to switch it off without reading the text, assuming it’s my mother. But the number isn’t in my contacts. While the professor is expanding on what I said, I click on the message and read it quickly.

My heart expands so much I’m afraid it might burst inside my chest. Surely the whole room has to hear how hard it’s pounding. But they don’t seem to; they continue listening and making notes, while a few sleep discreetly.

Sweet Ivy, your application to visit me has been approved. When can you come? I can’t wait to see you.

Questions scramble for space inside my head. In particular, how did he manage to get hold of a cell phone in prison? Regardless, I relish the warmth spreading through my gut.

His words, simple and straightforward as they may be, pull me in all over again, drugging my senses.

I put my phone back in my bag. I’ll respond later. Now that it’s real, now that I have the opportunity to meet him in person, I need time to think, to brace myself.

As soon as the last lecture of the day comes to an end, I head to the library to do some research for a presentation I’m scheduled to give in a week. I try to keep Judson at the back of my mind, but after half an hour, I quit and gather my things. On my way to Dunkin Hall I grab two sandwiches from a small deli close to campus. Since it’s already five, this will have to be dinner.

I hate eating alone, but there’s no one to share a meal with. The only person I normally do that with anyway is Chelsea, but lately she spends most of her free time with Neil. A day after they broke up, they got back together. Apart from Chelsea, I still haven’t let many other people in; I have the feeling that if I do, they will see my deepest, darkest secrets immediately. Once they discover I’m in contact with the professor who put the university’s name in the same sentence as the word “murder,” I’m doomed. No, the fewer people I let in, the safer my secret will be.

As I walk through the residential gardens, I pull out my phone, expecting another text from Judson. There are several messages and a missed call, but they’re all from my mother. I ignore them.

I sigh deeply as I climb the steps. Walking down the corridor, my mind is absent. At first I don’t notice the woman pacing around the door of our dorm room. When I finally do look up—and recognize her—I stop walking. My stomach drops as she sees me and crosses the few steps between us.

She’s a mess. Her gray eyes are bloodshot, and the normally neat bun at the nape of her neck is a blonde bird’s nest on top of her head. Her hands are shaking.

Looking at us, one would never assume we’re mother and daughter. I got my ginger hair and hazel eyes from my father. The only things I took from my mother are her height and slender figure, if a body shape can be inherited. At five feet nine, I’m only a few inches taller than she is.

“Honey,” my mother says. “I know this must be a shock. In my defense, I did try to call you several times. But you won’t pick up my calls.” She attempts to hug me, but I raise my hands to stop her. I take a few steps to the side and push my way to the door.

“I wanted to talk in person. I miss you.” I wish I didn’t hear the lie poisoning the platitude.

Ignoring her, I pull out my key, unconsciously hook a finger through the silver keyring, and open the door. I want to enter my peaceful place, to close the door and pretend she isn’t even here, but I can’t bring myself to do that. She’s still my mother, and she came all this way for a reason. As I step aside to let her in, my shoulders hunch forward. I’m not strong enough to handle another fight.

I offer her a seat on the couch. She crosses her long, fake-tanned legs. Her stretch miniskirt is so short, I swear I see her underwear. I swallow my disgust.

“Do you want something to drink? We have apple juice and sparkling water.” I’m only asking out of politeness.

“Do you have anything else? Something stronger? Wine?”

I shut the fridge a little too forcefully, killing its inner glow. “No, we don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” she says and places her shaking hands in her lap. “Please sit with me. Let’s talk. I’ve really missed you.”

I know exactly what she missed, and it isn’t me. But I want to give her the benefit of the doubt, so I sit and turn my body to face her. When I speak, I do my best to keep my voice calm. “Why are you really here? I know it’s not because you miss me.”

She shrugs and purses her red lips. “I’m in trouble, baby. My company... our company is in financial trouble. If we don’t save it now, I have to sell within a month.”

“Wrong,” I retort. “Elite Faces is your company, not ours.” I pause. “I’m sorry it’s in trouble. I know how much it means to you. It’s your whole life.”

“You do?” Her eyes sparkle. “So you’ll help me?”

“Help you how?”

“I need you to come back, baby. Since you left, everything went downhill. You were our star model. It’s you the designers want. Without you, we’re finished.”

“I’ve told you many times. I don’t want to be a part of that world anymore. My life is here. I’m tired of smiling for cameras. I’m tired of pretending I enjoyed what I was doing. I’m tired of telling you this over and over again.” I wave a hand at my small room. “This is my life now. I love being here. I love studying to become someone I’m proud of.”

“You’re wasting your talents. Many girls would kill to have your body and face...your gorgeous hair.”

“I don’t care about my looks.” I attempt to keep my voice steady, but it rises with each word. The time has come for me to stand up for myself. “I want to use my brains for a change.”

“After everything I did for you?” Her voice is edged with steel. “You’re turning your back on me when I need you most? I’m the one who gave you those looks. I spent a fortune on your lessons, your clothes, your makeup... everything. You ungrateful little bitch.”

“I paid for all those things many times over. I made you a lot of money. And all those things you did for me? I never wanted them. All you did was stifle me and all I wanted was out. Now I’m out, and I’m not coming back.”

“In that case, you’re dead to me.” My mother, shaking with rage, stands and sways slightly before heading for the door. She turns to me before walking away. “Don’t fool yourself into believing you’re smart. You are nothing without me. Nothing.”