Conversations from the Couch By Carl Sessions It was the first snow of the season and we were at Graham’s again, all cracked plaster walls, sticky wooden floors and muted jazz. Liz and Dan sat on the couch in the corner. Dan leaned forward and ash from his cigarette lofted down onto the overstuffed cushion. He picked at the loose threads mindlessly and directed his attention to Liz as she spoke. The ash stained the paint-flecked surface grey and wispy. “So now I’m not sure what to do. If I move back to Iowa City I’ll try and find a job, but nobody else has any luck.” Liz was finishing explaining why she wanted to drop out of Stanford. “Yeah, yeah, but this summer when the students leave a ton of jobs will open up,” Dan offered. “But I can’t bank on that, Dan. If I can’t find a job I’m out—not everybody’s parents are professors.” “Hey now, don’t be heavy handed. I’m not on the Daily Iowan staff anymore.” “But you still have a safety net.” “I guess, but they’re upset I stopped writing, they might stop subsidizing my lease and I’ll have to move back to Cedar Rapids.” I had heard this exact conversation last night when he lamented to Wyatt. While they spoke
“Rent’s gone up in Iowa City, and I have to make choices.” 24
