I was all she had.
**
By the time I arrived at Black River Community College I had calmed down. I grabbed the bags of groceries and headed towards the building where Flynn taught his art classes.
I berated myself for letting a prick like Mr. Beretti get to me. I wasn’t a pathetic fourteen-year-old girl anymore. He was nothing to me.
Less than nothing.
It didn’t matter what he or his horrible wife thought of me.
So why was there a lump of lead inside that felt a lot like shame?
I had been forced to endure random run-ins with my shitty foster parents over the years. Sometimes they ignored me. Sometimes they attempted to engage in awkward, one-sided conversation.
And sometimes they looked at me with judgment and condescension, as Mable Beretti had just done.
I had been able to shake it off, usually by going out and losing my mind in a haze of drugs, alcohol, and no strings attached sex.
But I didn’t cope like that anymore.
I had grown up. I had matured.
Though I didn’t understand why seeing the Berettis now, after all this time, had made me feel like I was still that useless little girl with no prospects and no future. Even after I had proven to myself that I wasn’t. That I could do something with my life.
I clutched the plastic bags in my hands and hurried across the campus, not seeing anything. My eyes a blur of unshed tears that I refused to let fall.
I approached Flynn’s office and stopped before going through the door. He was at his desk, bent over a pile of papers, dark hair falling into his face. He was frowning and chewing on his lip as his pen moved in agitated lines.
I stared at him long and hard. My heart that thudded steadily and painfully in my chest reacted instantly to his proximity. The lingering self-hatred, the enduring resentment and bitterness bled out onto the floor. It had no place here. Not with him.
And then I was smiling.
I softly knocked on his open door, indicating my presence. Flynn looked up, a strand of hair falling in his eyes and he absently pushed it back.
“You’re on time,” Flynn said, glancing at the clock on his wall.
“You sound surprised,” I teased, stepping into the office and closing the door behind me.
“I am surprised. You’re late a lot,” Flynn said, never, ever pulling any punches. I chuckled and set the grocery bags down on the chair beside me.
“How’s your day going?” I asked, finding that the last of my jangled nerves began to fade. I was able to get air into my lungs.
Life was tangled and twisted. It was vicious and violent. It could crush you in its merciless grip before you ever had a chance to live.
And he was my safety in the nightmare.
“Good. I was able to finish the clay pot I had been working on. My sculpting foundations class liked it and they didn’t ask too many questions. That was nice,” Flynn answered, putting his pen down and turning on the lamp beside his desk.
“Aren’t students supposed to ask questions? Isn’t that the point of teaching them?” I asked, opening up the first bag and pulled out the items purchased in the throes of my Beretti induced panic.
I laid out cold pasta with pesto and tomato, a few bags of potato chips, a bar of chocolate and a container of sushi. Looking at the food I knew there was very little, aside from the chips and chocolate, that Flynn would eat. Major girlfriend fail.
“I don’t like questions. They’re usually ridiculous and if people took the time to actually listen, they’d know the answers already,” Flynn responded and I couldn’t fault his logic.
He looked down at the food on his desk and frowned. “This is what you brought for us to eat?” he asked, picking up the container of sushi and making a face.
I opened up the second grocery bag and was relieved that I had had the sense to pick up a ham and cheese sandwich. Nice to see I had donesomethingright.
