By Thursday night, he had completed all of his work, due in large part to Martin keeping him supplied with coffee as well as significant help outlining and revising his papers. It was all a blur, but Mitch was pretty sure that Martin skipped some of his classes to help him. Mitch guiltily hoped that Martin could use it as intense prep for his own exams the next week. Martin made sure he made it onto his plane. Mitch thanked him, boarded his plane and then passed out until it touched down in Boston. Mitch’s parents picked him up. His mother seemed bewildered, but his father raised his eyebrows. "Let’s get home," he said through gritted teeth. Mitch fell asleep in the car and didn’t wake up until the next day. At the breakfast table, his mother slid him a bowl of cereal and waited until he was done before she began. "Do you want to tell us why you left Ireland two weeks early, or do you want us to guess?" "Liz, cut to the chase," his father barked. "What was her name?" Mitch pushed the bowl away.
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