Yes, I am still plugging away on final revisions (getting closer!) but I thought I'd post just a snippet to intrigue those of you who might be forgetting how much you want to read this tome of mine:
Tuesday morning had come around too quickly for Karen’s tastes. She had spent most of Monday at home, organizing her books and catching up on laundry, but would be reporting bright and early to the college for in-service hours. She pushed aside her glass of milk to look at the schedule again for today. Assessment practices for a couple of hours, a half-hour break for lunch, then a department-level series of meetings regarding entrance exams and support services. Important issues, but they all added up to a very long day. Nothing got people arguing faster than trying to agree on how tests should be administered and interpreted—a sign of a diverse system of teaching theories. In theory, having such a wide range of opinions was not only appropriate but desired. In practice, however, it meant that nothing got done on time and nobody agreed with any system put in place. Lord, whatever stores of patience you have up in Heaven, I could use about a gallon or two.
When she arrived at the school a half-hour early for the proceedings, a few of her colleagues were already in the shared adjunct office, crowded around the coffee pot and discussing, amiably at the moment, whether the contemporary American literature courses should be restricted to sophomores. It was a nice change from the concerned whispers over the events of the fall semester. The light odor of fresh paint still lingered in the air, enough of a reminder and yet faded enough to keep most memories quiet.
Karen smiled at her colleagues but didn’t join their conversation, electing instead to quickly check her e-mail and registration lists. Turning her back to the room was an effective way to discourage most people from eliciting her support for their arguments. If she was going to make it through the day, she would have to start pacing herself now. When Don called out her name, though, it seemed like her methods weren’t going to work this time.
“Karen, I was going to put this in your mailbox, but I got a little distracted. Someone slipped it into mine by mistake again—they really need to make it clearer that your shelf is above your nameplate, not below.”
She smiled gratefully, thanking him as he passed her the long white envelope. A single piece of paper was inside, the bold black letters comprising the simple message nearly stopping her heart.
“Something wrong?”
Karen glanced back at Don, concern evident in his tone of voice. She quickly smiled to reassured him. “Not at all. I’m just trying to do too many things at once and having trouble concentrating. Let me just check a few things online and I’ll walk with you to the auditorium for the opening session, ok?”
Don nodded and turned back to refilling his coffee thermos. Karen shoved the note back into the envelope and slid it safely out of sight in her coat pocket before turning back to the computer monitor.
A few clicks had the registration lists up, her creative writing seminar on top. Her eyes quickly scanned the last names. Arton, Attison, Becker, DeNalli, Guzman, Kellmann… Her heart slowed as relief washed over her. Ben had dropped the class. If she was lucky, he would be out of her life forever. Moving away and leaving her to a quiet existence would be the kindest thing he could ever do for her—and now, the safest thing for himself. Her focus reacquired, she pulled up her email browser and began sifting through the override requests, questions about textbooks, and notes from the department head about new class proposals for the summer.
“Are you looking for someone?”
Karen turned at Don’s deep voice, curious about the visitor to the office. Her face froze when she recognized the tall man in a dark blue uniform.
“I think I’ve found her, thanks.”
Karen cleared the computer with a short series of keystrokes and grabbed her things. “Sorry, but I have a meeting in just a few moments.”
She tried to brush past him in the small space, but the officer caught her arm. “Karen, we need to talk.”
Her glare was intense. “It’s Professor Edwards to you, and I really don’t have time right now.”
Don wiped the surprised expression off his face as he tapped his debating partner on the shoulder. “Patricia, we’d better be off.” He turned towards Karen, giving her a small smile. “I’ll tell everyone that you’ll be a little late—don’t worry about it. We’ll save you a seat.” He nodded respectfully to Ben and led his colleague out into the hallway, closing the door behind them.
Now that she had a little more room to maneuver in, Karen angrily pushed Ben off her arm and stepped backwards. “Despite what Don—Professor Fulton—said, I really don’t have time for this.”
Ben let her have some space but maneuvered himself closer to the door so she couldn’t escape. “I have no doubt that he’ll make excuses for you.” He grinned a bit sheepishly at his clothing. “The uniform helps.”
Karen closed her eyes, willing her temper under control as she pulled her lips between her teeth. While she really wanted to let him have it, a little voice reminded her that Grandma Susie’s funeral was just a few days ago and it wouldn’t be right to let her temper flare.
“I know you’re upset, but I really need you to look at me.” Karen obeyed, but allowed the simmering anger to prevail in her expression. Ben sighed. “I need to apologize for what I said that night.” Her expression didn’t change. He ran a hand over his hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Karen crossed her arms protectively in front of herself. “Ben, no one says things like that unless they want to hurt someone.”
“You know what I mean. It’s just that I didn’t expect you to react like that, and with everything going on, I just lost it. There’s no excuse for it, and I’m sorry I was so cruel.” Karen looked away, staring at the coffeepot for a few moments, biting her lips again. The apology was sincere—that much she could tell. She couldn’t take any more risks, though. She forced her arms to relax.
“I dropped your class this morning.”
Karen glanced back at Ben and nodded, her eyes dropping to her fingers fidgeting with the ring on her right hand. “I know. I appreciate it—things would have been awkward otherwise for both of us after the fight.”
Ben took a step forward, reaching for her shoulder. She allowed the hand to rest gently there, gazing at his long fingers curving over the fabric of her blouse. “Karen, I didn’t drop the class because of the fight. I dropped it because of the kiss.”
She started at bit at his revelation and looked up at him. Focus, Karen. Don’t give him anything, don’t say anything. You have to let him go. You have to make him go, now more than ever. Ben continued speaking.
“When you left, Will told Courtney how upset you were. The two of them tag-teamed me before the service. Courtney told me something that morning: there’s no way that I would have reacted so poorly, let alone kissed you like that, if I didn’t really care about you—not just as my teacher, or even as a friend…but as something more.” Ben paused, looking over her features with obvious caution. “I know there’s a lot going on right now, and you’re probably confused and overwhelmed, but I need you to know that I’m not giving up. I want to be with you, Karen. Can you please forgive me, give us a chance?”
There was real pleading, honest desire in his eyes. He really wanted her. Her eyes closed softly, the familiar prickling sensation behind her lids warning that if she didn’t regain control soon, she might just cry for the first time in years. The pain of rejecting him might destroy her. Her hand rearranged the coat slung over an arm, a slight crinkling of paper accompanying her movements. Her resolve returned. She slowly turned her eyes back onto his face, a hand reaching to cover his still resting on her shoulder.
“I can’t do that, Ben.”
His face fell. “You can’t forgive me?”
“I can forgive you, Ben—and have.” Karen gently pushed his hand from her shoulder, letting it fall to his side. Her sigh was deep but only vaguely audible. She was going to hurt him—there was no way to avoid it. He wouldn’t understand, but she had to give him the truth. “I just can’t trust you.” Her mouth twitched slightly as she fought the urge to say more. Instead, she quietly slipped past him, opened the door, and left him inside the shared office space. Her hand trailed behind on the doorknob after pulling the door shut behind her. The pain in his eyes was killing her, haunting her as she rested against the wall and pulled in a shaky breath. She had to do this. It was the only way to protect herself. The only way to protect him.
The envelope crinkled as she folded her coat neatly over her arm. She pulled it back out, rereading the block-style letters. Talk to the cop again and the blood spilled will be worse. This wasn’t a prank anymore. There was a creep out there who could get to her car, her house, and even her office without being detected. This wasn’t a matter of bored kids or even wannabe gangsters. This was serious. Karen glanced back at the still-closed door to her shared office and sighed. It was better this way, for everyone.
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