Chapter 30

Meat sizzled. The pasta was laid out. Chesses were waiting. Once my sauce was done, I’d be well on my way to some comfort food.

It wasn’t like things were bad. That I was in desperate need for some kind of emotional pick me up. But, at the grocery store earlier in the day, I found myself picking out the ingredients for a good, home-made lasagna. I followed my stomach, which lead me to my present state of cooking meditation. Seemed like a good way to take a break.

The summer was moving by more quickly than I wished. Almost half way done, half way to picking up and leaving. For as long as I had looked forward to change, I now found myself feeling quite the opposite. I felt, dare I acknowledge it, a sense of contentment with the status quo. Work with freedom, a place to myself, Julie and Emily to hang out with. Maybe simple was enough. Maybe this was enough.

I added onions, stirred. Garlic salt, pepper went in. Sweet and tangy smells filled the air. A bit more comfort to settle an increasingly unsettled heart. A nagging feeling that, one day soon, things would be shifting, cracking, crashing. And that it was inevitable.

The research work had been a welcome distraction. Each new paper, a piece of candy to be digested, enjoyed. It was ideal; learning with purpose, without the pressure of some eventual evaluation. Mr. Becker carried that responsibility. I just assisted in his preparation.

Tomatoes, cubed, wet and glistening slid into the pot. Fresh basil, oregano. A bit of chicken stock and set to simmer. Dishes washed up, and an hour or so before I could move to the next step. This was a dish of patience, where the effort would result in a great deal of satisfaction, if delayed. I moved to my couch to read.

I was lost somewhere between the pages before me and the quiet vocals floating from my stereo when a rap against the door broke in. Solid, repeating several times. A loud staccato that was unfamiliar. It wasn’t Emily or Julie, that was for sure. And I wasn’t expecting anyone else.

I looked through the peephole, hoping that, in the case of some random solicitor, I had done so quietly enough to then ignore them. A warped portrait of my boss confronted me instead.

Confused, I opened the door.

“Hi…um, hello, uh...Mr. Becker.”

“Hi there. Sorry, to stop by unannounced. Am I interrupting?”

Leaning against the door, a bit dumbfounded, I blocked most of the opening. Not moving for a second made him shift uncomfortably. My manners kicked in while I, seemingly outside my body, looked on as my two very separate worlds collided.

“Oh…oh, no. Um…uh…why don’t you come in.”

I moved aside, letting him pass, and motioned him towards the couch. I went straight to the kitchen, checking on the sauce and giving my self a second to regroup. I offered him a drink, and stirred the sauce a few times, watching him look around my room from my place at the stove. He had zeroed in on several photos I had of the family, the few times we had been able to get everyone together for a nice portrait.

I moved to the couch with the cursory glass of water everyone accepts. He turned to me as I sat down, waiting for his next move. Or an explanation for his arrival. Something.

“So, you cook as well?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

He laughed. “Well, it would depend on how you define cooking.”

“And how would you define it?”

“Personally? If I were to call myself a cook, then my main utensils would be a phone book and a twenty dollar bill.”

“There’s nothing wrong with some good take-out.”

“Sure. But it doesn’t mean I don’t envy those who doing the making. I keep telling myself I’ll get around to learning. But, so far, boiling water is about all I’ve really mastered. And definitely nothing close to whatever you’re making. It’s a heady smell coming from your kitchen.”

“I thank you for the compliment, but I promise you, it’s nothing complicated. Actually, really simple. I just like making stuff myself – when I have the time. And I’ve had plenty lately. So why not, right?”

He nodded, smiled, but seemed distracted as he looked in my direction. He stared as though he didn’t recognize me. It made things even more uncomfortable.

Trying to ignore his presence, or the weight of his stare, I settled on my immediate task at hand. Sauce at ready, ingredients laid out, I had something to make. The distraction worked wonders.

“So did you just happen to be in the neighborhood?”

“I guess you could say that. I was taking a breather from work.”

“Coffee shop?”

“Where else?”

My hands moved quickly as I spoke. The repeated patterns of layering, sauce, pasta, cheese were soothing, and allowed me to ignore, for a moment, the dominating presence in the other room. Focused on the task at hand, I let the conversation slip.

He took my silence as an invitation, joined me at the counter. I felt his gaze as he watched me ladle the last of the sauce onto my creation. I waited for him to say something, waited while I sprinkled cheese across the top, waited while I turned around and check the oven, waited while I slipped my casserole dish into its temporary womb. Still nothing.

I turned around, leaned on the counter. He had taken a seat on one of the stools, leaned over a bit, as though we were in a crowded bar, me his bartender of choice.

“It’s really not that fascinating.”

“Actually, it is. Like I said, cooking has been a passive experience at best. It’s rare that I get to observe the process up close.”

“And do you plan on changing that?”

“That, and a few other things.”

“Good for you. All it takes is one good meal made by your own hands, and you’ll be hooked.”

“Confident words for someone who obviously knows what they are doing.”

“I’ve had my share of inedible experiments.”

“I doubt it.”

“No catastrophes, I’ll admit, but some questionable choices. But you got to try, right?”

“Yeah, you do.”

With that, he lean in, placed his hand on the side of my cheek and pulled me in.

Chapter 29

Sometimes you find yourself with a way out before you even know you need one. By securing a job for the fall, I had given myself a finite period of time, where considerations of consequence were irrelevant. It meant living life day by day. It was freedom.

Graduation had come and gone in a series of moments, stills captured by photographs never to be looked at, and a constant stream of farewells. For my family, it was a time to savor, so I allowed them to harangue me for more snapshots than possibly needed, the detailed tours of school halls and classrooms that had little personal meaning. I had no wish to deprive them of their joy, and let the mask of a host take control. But, as my smile grew ever more etched onto my face, I knew that, deep down, I felt little more than a fleeting sense of accomplishment.

It was a small, intimate gathering for my department commencement. My family’s faces stood out, glowing with the expectant pride. They overpowered the lights, overwhelmed me, as I stood there, my name called out with a summary of “me, college student”. Years collapsed into discreet sentences. Me as a paragraph.

Not wanting tears, just a smile, I looked beyond them, around the room, ignoring the one missing member of the audience only to glimpse another. At the back, in the shadows. Or maybe it wasn’t, I couldn’t quite be sure. The profile seemed similar enough, the posture recognizable. But it move away, out the back door, as I made my way offstage.

Two days after my family left, I sat in my apartment, staring mindlessly at my computer screen. I hadn’t left since I had seen my family off. Peace, solitude.

After a few minutes, I gathered myself together. I had to move. My first meeting with Jeremy…Mr.Becker…my new boss, was in an hour. I had reviewed some of his preliminary notes, as well as his proposed time schedule for the summer. But, well, for the first time in my life, I was behind on reading.

Walking to school seemed strange. Funny, since nothing had really changed. But the pomp and ceremony had ushered in a new era, and I felt like a stranger in my own body. It was all a head-trip, but one that left me feeling awkward. I wasn’t a student anymore. I didn’t belong here anymore.

Mr. Becker’s door was open, his back away from me as I entered. I stopped, at the door, as I heard him say goodbye, a bit bluntly, on the phone. Tapping, to notify him of my presence, seemed to startle him, and he turned quickly towards me.

“Am I early?”

“No….no. Right…right on time.”

He smiled thinly, briefly, and moved deliberately to his desk, laying out some papers and two thick folders. Maybe other things had changed as well.

We dug in immediately. Two hours later, I had objectives that would last me well into next week, and a stack of papers, photocopies and books to fill an additional bag. I guess it was a good thing that I took those two days. If this was to set the schedule for the rest of the summer, then a break would be a long way off.

I wanted to ask him about graduation. Part of my kept trying to capture a view, a profile, that would match with what I thought I saw. It felt important to find out, more important not to ask. I know he said he never went, but I kept thinking about what I saw. And if what I saw was correct, then I could start to think about what it might mean. Or why it was important in the first place.

Things had lightened a bit, now that we had covered so much ground, but he was still a bit reserved, distant. Even though he was doing most of the talking, he seemed pre-occupied. He would fade off, every so often. He even stopped mid-sentence several times. I said nothing, and he would catch himself with a short shake, and then start again. I should have interrupted. I had the opportunity. I couldn’t bring myself to try.

I didn’t say much as we wrapped things up. Mr. Becker seemed to be rushing things now. And he was the boss; as much as I resented the change in our interaction, I had to accept that it came with the new roles. Things couldn’t have stayed the same anyways. But, rationalizations in hand still couldn’t stop a small pit of anger.

I packed up my things silently. I wasn’t feeling like small talk, though his mood had improved. The phone rang, broke the rhythmic scrapping of book covers sliding across one another. He picked up immediately, and after a quick hello, his tone regained its blunt edge. He turned his back to me once again and I moved quickly away from his desk. He needed privacy - that much was clear.

As I reached the door, I noticed a graduation program on his bookshelf. Rolled, as thought it had been carried for some time that way. It included a small bookmark at the top, which was handed out at the door of the ceremony. Looks like I wasn’t wrong. I walked out, shutting the door behind me, without looking back. I wondered why he had bothered to break his own rule.

I thought about it, off an on, as I began my job in earnest. I would come back to it, during a break from reading, or when I zoned out. I was obsessed, picking away at a knot with no tail. There could be hundreds of reasons for him to have come. Maybe he was at school for the day, and just wanted to see what the ceremony was like. Maybe, as a new teacher, he was told to come. He could have just changed his mind. Anything, really. But Mr. Becker had seemed so adamant, so firm in his declaration. What would have overcome that? And why did I want it to somehow concern me?

I settled into a nice routine, which, day by day, I found more and more appealing. I called it productive independence. I worked when I wanted, where I wanted. But, with an overriding schedule and set of deadlines, I had markers to work against, motivation to keep focused. I could spend the morning reading at the coffee shop, afternoons at home on my computer. I could reverse it. I could go shopping at ten in the morning or three in the afternoon. I could avoid traffic, on the road, at the gym, at the grocery store. And I could always take a break to watch some television.

I sent Mr. Becker an update at the end of the week. We hadn’t discussed a new meeting time, and with everything he had set up, I could probably go the entire summer without seeing him again. Just update him, send him his required information per the timeline he had set. It was like being on autopilot, without feeling like a cog in a machine. I could dig this.

I wandered out for an evening stretch. The day had been spent on my couch, reading several different papers saying pretty much the same thing. It all melted together, and my notes would likely reflect it. I figured, an hour or so away, and I could get back to sorting out who really said what.

No doubt as to where I would end up, I made my way leisurely. It was a warm night, but surprisingly crisp for an east coast summer night. Humidity had yet to emerge from its slumber and wrap the air in its heavy arms. There would be few more nights like this one, and I wanted to make sure I took advantage.

The sidewalks were packed, people lounging, eating, walking, laughing. Groups, couples, families filling the air with vibrancy. I walked through them, by them, around them. Never apart of them, like a ghost, an apparition observing unobserved. No caught glances, no waves to neighbors or friends. Because, even after the years I had spent around, I was still a nomad, still a visitor passing through.

Making it to the coffee shop, I grabbed something chilled and creamy, and magazine in hand, dove for the open sidewalk table that appeared before me. Luck was on my side, and I watched the sun hit the evening horizon as I settled into my chair. After a few minutes of people watching, I sank into an article with sweet oblivion.

“It seems like you have the only open seat left. Mind if I join you?”

Inwardly I sighed as my pulse quickened. I had played it low-key all week to give Mr. Becker…Jeremy…whatever…the space to take care of something with obvious personal significance. And to reset the definitions of our collegial relationship. Somewhere it had gotten a bit too personal, a bit too important. Already feeling a bit hurt at his, most likely unintentional, slight predicted a more difficult future if I didn’t distance myself immediately.

“I couldn’t say no, if it’s the only seat left.”

I moved my drink closer to me, making room for his cup of coffee and a small folder of papers he carried with him. I returned to my article while he settled in to his chair. If he wanted to talk, he could start. If he wanted some peace, then we could pretend we were strangers. Either one would suit me right now.

The evening set in, the pace of the sidewalk slowing as the street lights made their presence known. Half an hour after he had joined me, Mr. Becker spoke up.

“Is this how you get so much of your work done?”

I looked at him questioningly.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing seems to interrupt you when you are focused on something. You’ve sat in the same position since I’ve been here, and the only motion you’ve made is when you turn a page. It’s rather, well, impressive to watch.”

“It’s all because of training.”

Now he looked at me questioningly.

“When I was younger, my sister’s room was next to mine. And, I don’t think there was a day when she was in high school where she didn’t have at least one or two friends in there with her. They spent a majority of the time making mixed tapes for their friends, or for an upcoming assembly or dance, or just because they were obsessed with customizing what they listened to. Anyways, from the moment my sister came home until the moment she left, there was music, and noise, and laughter and talking. You learn pretty quickly how to tune it all out, let it all become white noise. It came in handy when I was a freshman.”

He smiled as I put my magazine down. I noticed that none of his papers had been touched. But his coffee was gone. I wondered if had been watching me the entire time. Or if, like me, he had let the world disappear around him.

“I always found it hard to completely cut myself off from what was around me. I think that’s why I find my office so important to me. I can physically shut myself off and focus on work. Except that I hate being there for long periods of time.”

“A bit of a conundrum there, then.”

“Yeah. I guess, at times it is. That’s why I usually need schedules and outlines. They give me the parameters to stay on task. They may be arbitrary, but they are certainly effective. Without them, I get a bit stir-crazy.”

“I understand. I drove my mom nuts with my need to stick to a schedule, even if I had made it up myself. She always had to remind me that things can be flexible. She would even, at times, get me off track, just to show me that things wouldn’t implode.”

“Yeah. Sometimes I forget that myself. That you can’t always keep to the way you think things should be. It got me into a lot of arguments….”

Mr. Becker’s voice trailed off with his last words, and I realized he was referring to something other than a work schedule. It was so tempting to push the direction of our conversation through the opening he had just created. But I resisted. All part of that distance I meant to impose.

He looked up at me, as I remained silent. I saw it, at the edges of his eyes, sadness held back by every ounce of will he had.

“Sometimes we need to compromise. And sometimes, compromise makes things go to hell.”

He chuckled a little at that. He needed compassion mixed with levity. I mean, I couldn’t just ignore that he was facing something difficult. Any colleague would do the same.

“And whatever the argument may have been, it is never just one person’s fault. Never just one person’s responsibility. At least, that’s what I was always told after getting grounded for one thing or another. Which, by the way, always seemed to me a tad hypocritical, since I had to suffer the consequences of something that was, according to that logic, not really my fault.”

That helped. He grinned broadly at me, laughing, his eyes now glowing.

“I guess someone has to be the martyr, right?”

No rest for the weary

Sorry for the delay...I have been bogged down by my other life...one which, while I wish I could escape, pulls me back in. Soon, I promise...soon, something will appear.

Chapter 28

Just a few hours left. Then, pandemonium.

I took refuge at the coffee shop; it would be a few hours to myself, before the arrival of family – my mom, my sister and her family, both sets of grandparents – and the commotion of graduation. Once that momentum started, there would be no rest, no lull, until the weekend was over.

It snuck up on me, graduation day. After the end of classes, the days bled from one to the next, undifferentiated with their lack of schedules. I puttered around, sorting through old papers and books, as if, by doing so, everything else would some how follow suit.

I felt unsettled, even though most things in my life were already in place. It should have been a relief – no worries about where to move to, what I would do once my diploma was in hand. I should have been excited, I should have felt carefree. So many should haves; I was everything but what I should have been.

I sipped my coffee absently, toyed with the papers in front of me. The beginnings of my work for the summer, which I couldn’t concentrate on. And so the minutes clicked on by as I sat, reading nothing, thinking too many thoughts.

A shadow fell across me, I guessed at its owner. And, a few seconds later, I found out I was right, as Jeremy took a place in the opposite chair. Another thing I should have been – surprised. I wasn’t.

“This is becoming a routine.”

I smiled at him. I had seen him a few times in the coffee shop now. With increasing frequency, now that classes were over. Usually, it was a short conversation, the obligatory hello. I spent my mornings here. He just seemed to pass by. I guess today was different.

“Routine is a nice way of implying that I spend a lot of time here.”

He laughed, settled in his chair. And for a while, we talked. But I had a hard time keeping up, hard time staying light and friendly. My mind kept wandering, asking itself questions without answers, too many what ifs.

He was animated today. More than I was use to. It emphasized how sluggish I felt, so out of sync. As if I had just woken up, and definitely not reflecting the two cups of caffeine I had put inside me. I was trying. But I couldn’t get back in tempo.

“Graduations are usually exciting things.”

I blinked. I must have missed something.

“Excuse me?”

“Well, usually, when people graduate, they look forward to things. They talk about their plans. They laugh about how hard it was. They maybe spend a few evenings drinking. They smile incessantly, feel a bit giddy until they pick up their diploma. They don’t look as though their favorite pet has just died.”

He noticed. I knew he would. It wasn’t that hard to imagine what I looked like, given how I felt. But I didn’t need an old professor, and current boss, seeing me this way. I needed a rewind button. I should have stayed at home today.

I gave him a half-hearted smile, tried to brush off his observations. A couple of late nights, worrying about timelines and events to keep my family busy and entertained. Coffee not kicking in. He didn’t buy a word of it.

“You know, sometimes you can over think things.”

I was startled. Kinda right on.

“Why do you say that?”

“Probably because I’ve done the same often enough.”

“I imagine that the things you were ‘over-thinking’ warranted it. Mine probably don’t.”

“That is usually why it is so easy to let those things take on a life of their own.”

“And so hard to ignore?”

“Definitely.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. He was keeping things light. And, looking over at him, smiling broadly, it wasn’t that hard to let some things go, if just for right now.

“So will you be at the department ceremony?”

His smile faded just a little. For a second, I feared I had killed the atmosphere.

“Sorry. I’ll take that as a no. Probably shouldn’t have asked.”

“No. Well, I mean, no, I won’t be going. But, also, no, it’s not a problem that you asked.”

“Do you mind, then, if I ask why?”

“Well, to be honest, I find them a bit depressing.” He shrugged a bit, as though he were embarrassed by the revelation. “For students, and their families, graduations are great experiences. They’re celebrations of a great achievement. But, from where I now stand, it is watching another group of students leave. It is another round of goodbyes. I don’t do well with goodbyes.”

He looked at me, expectantly. Maybe he thought I’d laugh. Maybe he thought I’d argue with him. But I understood, all too well.

“It’s understandable. Believe me. I don’t really do goodbyes either.”

My cell phone went off. My parents...no, my mom, was here.

“So, I have to go. Celebrations are about to begin.”

“Ahhh. Well, good to see you. And let me be the first to say congratulations.”

“I…well, I appreciate that. Thanks…but congratulations will be deserved only after I survive 48 hours of managing a roving group of family members.”

He laughed.

“I’ll contact you in a couple of days to set up a summer meeting schedule. Have a great time. And relax.”

“I can try. Alright, until next time….”

I waited a second. Then decided I could tease him a bit. “Goodbye.”

He looked up at me. Paused. I saw him, opening his mouth to say something. Gotcha.

“Oops…sorry about that…how about, I’ll talk to you later.”

I smiled innocently as I headed out. I heard him chuckling as I left.

Chapter 27

Knocking at my door, at this hour in the morning? What on god’s green earth did I do to deserve this?

I stumbled out of bed, hit my elbow against the door frame, and cursed my way to the front door. On the other side, there was Emily, smiling, holding coffee and muffins from a local bakery. I figured she’d make her way around, after speaking with her boyfriend. But, the next day? I mumbled a greeting, waved her in, went back to put on a sweatshirt and some jeans. And splash my face with some cold water.

The grin on Emily’s face confirmed why had made her way over. She had set out a couple plates, filled up a couple of mugs, and just sat there, waiting. I took my time, figuring it was fair payback for waking me up. I rarely slept in, and had planned to make this morning one of them. Looking at my clock, I realized how little extra time I got.

“Come on, you better start talking.”

“And what would like me to talk about, at eight in the morning on a Saturday? Morning traffic? There is none. The weather? You walked here, you tell me.”

“You know exactly why I’m here, so let’s just get to it. You were on a date. Finally.”

I started to laugh. She thought last night was a date?

“Um…no. Not a date. Not even close to one. I met Jeremy…Mr.Becker…to go over the last items for that paper I’ve been working on.”

That startled Emily for a second. Then her smile grew larger.

“You were with Mr. Becker? That’s definitely an interesting detail. All I heard was that you spent a good couple of hours having dinner with someone. And, from what I heard, it seemed like a social engagement.”

“Emily, I think your boyfriend was helping himself to too many samples while working last night. First of all, it was business. Second, I was with a GUY. Man, he must have been plastered, not just sampling.”

“Ha ha. You know he can’t drink while working. I’m more interested in what he observed. He said he’s rarely seen you so relaxed around someone. Well, beyond me and Julie. He said you were there for over two hours.”

“So, it was a long dinner? It isn’t a big deal, big enough to warrant an early morning interrogation. If I seemed more comfortable around him, maybe it’s because I am not his student anymore. Man, a date…please.”

While Emily laughed, I thought about last night. It had been oddly normal. Like hanging out. Comfortable. Just like my time with Julie or Emily. And that was rare.

“Sorry…I didn’t know what to think. I mean, it sounded exactly like a date to me. Long dinner, good conversation, laughter, non-stop smiling. It sounded like the best first date I’d ever heard of. And I wasn’t the only one who thought so.”

That brought me back to the conversation.

“What do you mean, you aren’t the only one who thought so?”

“Well, first of all, my boyfriend has seen his fair share of dates while working, and he was completely convinced. That’s why he brought it up. He thought I knew who you were meeting. And, since I had no idea what was going on, I had to ask Julie. So expect her to be calling sometime soon.” She sheepishly smiled, breaking off a part of her muffin. “Sorry.”

I sighed, but couldn’t help but grin. Nothing like nothing to get people worked up. And jump to conclusions. But, it’d take a while before Emily or Julie would let this one go. Even if it was completely ridiculous.

“Thanks, I can’t wait. Come on, you should have known from the get-go. Me? A date? When would that ever be the actual reason for me to meet a person for dinner? Besides, I’d have probably told you if I was going on a date…at least, I probably would have….”

“Ha. Ha. Please. I’d have to drag it out of you. One thing you’d never own up to is dating. So don’t even try to pass that one on me.”

It was true enough. If I were to date, I’d have kept it covert. Only because I’d be embarrassed by the entire situation. I had spent my entire life disparaging the concept, telling everyone I knew that I’d never subject myself to the horrors of those barbaric rituals. I believed it, still believe it. But, lately, I had to admit, I was thinking about it. At least abstractly. I had to.

My mom’s comments haunted me, a new weight which she had unconsciously placed upon me. I had thought, perhaps, that her words hadn’t meant that much, wouldn’t bother me as much. I had brushed them off thousands of times before, when my dad had poked and prodded. But, the words hadn’t left me alone. Instead, they had taken root, spread. And what I had once told myself impossible, well, now it was making itself more and more likely.

I sighed, as I thought about it, and realized that Emily was still sitting across from me.

“Deep thoughts over there. Didn’t mean to put you in a funk.”

“No, no. It’s nothing. Not really.”

“Sure. Nothing makes you look a bit pale and queasy. Of course its nothing.”

Emily looked at me expectantly. I knew she wouldn’t leave this one alone.

“Well, remember when I went home a few weeks ago? Wait, did I tell you I went home a couple of weeks ago?”

She just shook her head. It had been that long since we’d spent quality time talking.

“Sorry. It has been a while, hasn’t it? Well…I went home for a small break, and got home just in time to hear my sister’s new big announcement. She’s expecting again.”

“Well, that’s great news. That shouldn’t be making you look sick.”

“No…no. It is great news. I guess, well, it just brought up a lot of stuff for my mom. She was really happy, which I haven’t seen in a long time. I mean, she was laughing, she was planning, that was great. And then she started talking about dad. How much he’d have loved to see another grandchild. How much his first one meant to him…”

Emily caught on from there.

“Ahhh. So you’re mom dropped a few hints then, huh?”

“Yeah. Except there were a lot less subtle than hints. I mean, I know she was just caught up in telling me how she felt. But, it was basically asking me when I would get myself on the baby train. And, you know me. I wasn’t thinking about it. Ever.”

“And that’s changed now?”

“It has to. I don’t know why, I just know that it has to. Something about the way my mom spoke about it all. Wistful, hopeful. It made it impossible to be flippant. To go on brushing off my parents, telling myself that it’d be fine to live my life the way I see fit. I don’t think I’d be equipped to deal with their disappointment. And, well, it was impossible not to realize just how big of a disappointment I’d be, if my life ended up the way I originally planned.”

“I’m sure your mom didn’t mean to stress you out about this. Expect you to drop everything and start, well, sewing your seeds all over the place.”

I laughed. The image of me like that.

“Of course not. But at the same time, she’s made it pretty clear how important it ultimately is – how much she values family, kids, the continuation of things. And, as a product of it, I can understand why she might want to emphasize it. I just never thought I’d actually consider it.”

“Well, really, would it be so bad?”

“No. It’s, well, it’s just that, wanting the end product requires me participate in the crap it takes to get there.”

“Ahh…your ban on dating. Please. It’s not as scary as you think.”

“It’s more than that. It’s the dating, the meeting people, the attempts and flirting, of trying not to make an ass of yourself. It’s trying to figure out who’d actually hit on me.”

“Hey, it’s not always complicated.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve already got the relationship. And you didn’t have to hunt for it. We just had to hang out at Delux enough times for you to get noticed.

“See? It could happen for you, if you just put yourself out there.”

I just glared at her.

“That’s horribly cliché.”

Emily laughed. She new it was true.

“Look, it’s not that simple. Never is.” And while I laughed with her, I thought about how uncomplicated things used to be. How it was simple, when I didn’t have to deal with decisions that shaped my future. Ignorance had been bliss. I just hadn’t known it.

Absence...

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder...So I hope you don't mind if my absence here continues for a bit longer. The hard thing about writing on your down time is that, if there isn't down time, then you can't get anything new written. Be patient, my friends. I promise this story has and end.

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.