There would have been a lot more pressure on her, which was why she was happier working in the admissions office. She didn’t have the competitive spirit you needed to survive as a professor. Amy taught an undergraduate psych class and ran the counseling office, and did both well. She left her kids at the campus day care center while she worked. And she had a profound love for young people generally, and her students. She set up the first suicide hotline at BU after losing too many students in her early years of counseling. It was a common occurrence at all universities, and an epidemic that worried them all. Brigitte didn’t like the implication that by turning down applicants to BU she was ruining their lives. She hated to think of it that way. As usual, Amy’s opinions went right to the heart of the matter, and were bluntly expressed. She didn’t mince words, whereas Brigitte was always more careful and more diplomatic about what she said, and how she said it. Amy used a more frontal and confrontational approach, with colleagues or friends.

“So what are you doing tonight?” Amy asked her pointedly, curling up in the chair on the other side of Brigitte’s desk.

“Tonight? Why? Is it something special?” Brigitte looked blank, and Amy rolled her eyes.

“It should be, if you’ve been dating a guy for six years. You’re hopeless. It’s Valentine’s Day, for chrissake! You know, hearts, flowers, candy, engagement rings, marriage proposals, great sex, soft music, candlelight. Aren’t you going out with Ted?” She looked disappointed for Brigitte. Despite her own failed relationships, Amy still loved the notion of romance, and although they were adorable together, she always felt that Brigitte and Ted had far too little of it. They were still like high school kids dating, not like people in their thirties planning their future. And Amy worried about her friend, fearing that the important things in life were sliding past her. Like commitment, marriage, and having kids.