Who was She?

图片取自 Savannah Book Festival

  Alice tucked a piece of paper with her name, address, and phone number in her sock. Of course, if she become so confused that she didn't know her way home, she might not have the presence of mind to remember that she carried this piece of helpful information on her person. But it was a precaution she took anyway.

  Running was becoming less and less effective at clearing her thoughts. In fact, these days, she felt more like she was physically chasing down the answers to an interminable stream of runaway questions. And no matter how hard she kicked, she could never catch them.

  What should I be doing? She took her medications, slept for six to seven hours a night, and clung to the normalcy of day-to-day life at Harvard. She felt like a fraud, posing as a Harvard professor without a progressive neurodegenerative disease, working everyday as if everything were just fine and would continue that way.

  There weren't a lot of metrics for performances or day-to-day accountability in the life of a professor. She didn't have books to balance, a certain quota of widgets to make, or written reports to hand in. There was room for error, but how much? Ultimately, her functioning would deteriorate to a level that would be noticed and not tolerated. She wanted to leave Harvard before then, before gossip and pity, but had no way of even guessing when would that be.

  And although the thought of staying on too long terrified her, the thought of leaving Harvard terrified her much, much more. Who was she if she wasn't a Harvard psychology professor?

Still Alice, p96
Lisa Genova
ISBN 978-1-4391-0281-7

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