Chapter 26

I didn’t bother about the comments. I figured, in a couple of days, I’d send an email, and get them back, with a day or so to tidy the paper up for submittal. Not ideal, but under the circumstances, the only option I had.

Jeremy emailed me instead, several hours later. I was still up. Of course I was. Early morning inspiration, I guess. More like panic. But, I was nearly done now, and only on the eve of three in the morning.

It flashed up, unexpectedly. It was a relief, though. It meant I didn’t have to attempt first contact.

+++,

I realized, after you left, that we never went over your paper. My apologies. But I think you understand how distracted I was.

Since you need to submit it soon, let’s meet tomorrow evening, if you are available. Say, somewhere less formal than my office, for a bite to eat? I need the break, and I think I should at least thank you. Let me know what works. Email, or phone my office.

Jeremy

I should have seen the complications of something less formal, but I wanted to finish this lingering task. I replied, agreeing to tomorrow, and suggesting my own safe haven, Delux. I could at least wipe out some more embarrassing moments with some new experiences, on my terms.

I waited at the bar, catching up with Emily’s boyfriend, as he worked a relatively slow crowd. It reminded me that I had, once again, failed to keep up with my social life. That Emily would now be receiving new information about me from her boyfriend was a telling sign. He had always been out of our loop.

I saw Jeremy approaching in the mirror above the bar. He seemed to hesitate, as if carefully considering my conversation with Emily’s boy. He didn’t move forward, waiting. And he looked, well, a bit shy. I never imagined him shy.

I casually turned, pretended I just noticed him. I smiled to encourage him forward, and once he was next to me, I asked for his drink order.

“Oh, just a beer.”

“Alright, should I have the bartender surprise you?”

“Sure.”

I glanced over, singled to Emily’s man, and knowing him well, did nothing more. Seconds later, the special house ale slid between us, a new coke as well. Perfect. I put down some money for the drinks and a tip, and moved towards the dining area. I had put us down for a table when I arrived. And, given the time I had spent in the place over the last few years, everyone was familiar. Needless to say, we didn’t wait for a table.

The smoothness was necessary. It kept things in my comfort zone. That was key. The awkwardness, and sudden intimacy, from out last encounters had changed things. They left me unsure of the dynamics, the boundaries. Having dinner together wasn’t likely to settle things. So the environment became my safety net, a source of support.

“I should come here with you more often.”

That was a way to start a conversation.

“Excuse me?”

“Your bartender knows your drink preferences, you get seated without waiting…I like this place a lot, but the wait can be ridiculous and the bar packed.”

“Oh…well, tonight’s usually a slow night for them. And, actually, the bartender dates one of my old roommates…so he’s pretty familiar with what I drink. That, and I use to come here once a week. So, yeah…I guess they are kind of used to me.”

We made some informal chit-chat as we looked over the menu. Or, while Jeremy looked over the menu. I knew what I’d order. I always did when I was here. And tonight was calling for comfort food, the security of the familiar. There was nothing like homemade macaroni and cheese to accomplish that.

Jeremy brought out my paper after ordering. He said he’d like to get the “business” out of the way, since there wasn’t that much to it. I scanned over the short notes that sporadically appeared. He wasn’t exaggerating. As I read the final comments, I realized how tense I was, how worried I was about this final evaluation. But it was here, and it was better than I imagined…even though it was a pretty safe bet from the start. It was settled, I was done – or would be done very quickly. I felt light, giddy, relaxed, excited. It made me forget about the two feet separating me from the teacher I had idolized.

I thanked him, looked up into a broad grin. He seemed fully relaxed and content, a stark contrast to the previous night. I was riding a high myself, which he probably noticed. I hadn’t bothered to act otherwise.

“I have to tell you, I…well…getting this paper back, it…it makes everything seem so, I guess real. I find that exciting, and weird. It’s not like handing in a final paper, or well, maybe it is exactly like that, but only one hundred times more significant, important. It’s a crazy feeling, actually. It’s not that I even care about getting it published…though, of course that would be nice…but the idea that I’ve actually tried. That I…I’ll send this off in a couple of days…is, well…I just have to thank you for helping me get here.”

Jeremy eased back in his chair, still grinning, almost laughing.

“Well, I should thank you. It’s a pleasure to see you so enthusiastic. You deserve to feel that way. And I am glad that, in the end, you feel excited about the experience. There were moments…well…when I thought you were feeling exactly the opposite. It made me wonder…”

“Wonder...about what?”

“If, maybe, I was pressuring you to pursue something you weren’t interested in. If you were doing this because I had proposed it.”

“No…no. I was, am, interested in the work. I guess…well, I…I just never thought about it before. About trying to get something published…about pursuing my writing outside of class…”

“Really? Why not?”

“Well…they’re just assignments…you do them, hand them in, and that’s it…I guess I never considered anything beyond that. Never had a reason to.”

“Your experience with this paper though…I hope it will encourage you to consider the option in the future.”

“Well, if analysis reports become fodder for great essays, then maybe. But I doubt if the work I’ll be doing will provide much inspiration.”

“Ahh…you mentioned you’ll be starting a job this fall. Consulting, I think?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

I paused. I don’t know if I really looked forward to the things that lay ahead. I anticipated them, inevitable as they were. The moving. The starting over. The job. They were there, unavoidable. I expected them, planned for them. But looked forward to them, found excitement in them?

“I guess, maybe not?”

I’d been quiet longer than I thought, thinking about the last question. I realized thinking about them deflated my earlier elation. A buzz kill that I didn’t need.

“No, it just…unnerves me to think about all the things that will change in the next few months. Stress that I’d like to deal with later…”

“Maybe this might be the time to ask you about your summer plans?”

Oh, right. Working for him. I had thought it over, and weighed pros and cons, listed things out. And I hadn’t made a decision. I had hoped he might have asked someone else.

“Open, as of now.”

“Well, I guess I should be a bit more specific. Have you considered working for me?”

“You haven’t asked anyone else?”

“To be honest, I’ve been holding out for you.”

Our food arrived as I was about to answer. The conversation turned more casual, more focused on him, as we ate. I steered it that way, to give me more time. Because, I shouldn’t have been as excited as I was, excited by what he had said. Unlike everything else, I could see myself looking forward to working with Jeremy, learning more from him, about him. I knew that was telling.

We stayed for coffee. It was a leisurely pace, but one that passed more quickly than I realized. I could tell Jeremy was waiting, unwilling to hurry me, unwilling to leave without an answer. The conversation had returned to his work, his interests, and undoubtedly, he was conscious of the motives behind my questions. I was still feeling things out, and he was patiently letting me.

“So, have I been able to sway you yet?”

“Huh?”

“Working with me? Have I made a good case?”

“I guess my questions haven’t been that subtle then.”

He chuckled, leaned forward.

“I’m just glad that you’ve been seriously considering my offer. I thought you might have made up your mind. That I was going to have to make a hard sell.”

“I guess, well, I just don’t see why you didn’t ask someone else. I mean, I appreciate your patience, but you could have easily found someone who would have answered you immediately. I’ve probably been a really test of your patience.”

“Actually, as you saw, other things were keeping me occupied. And, well, I really would prefer to have you work with me.”

“Then how could I say no? It will at least give me a chance to do something interesting this summer. Better than going back to my old summer job at home.”

“You’ll do it then?” He seemed genuinely relieved. Surprised. Even, possibly, excited.

“Yes. I’ll help you out, as best I can.”

He slapped his hand on the table, smiled wide.

“You know, you’ve just made my evening.”

“Well, then you sure don’t need much.”

He laughed, and I smiled back. He had made my evening as well.