I nearly tear up at the idea of someone liking methatmuch.
“Am I complicatingyourlife?”he asks, turning toward me.
“Being home is always complicated for me, but I’d rather have you in my life in some capacity than not at all, especially now that we’ve… cleared the air.”My eyes cut to his.
“An asthma pun.I love it.”Henry’s cheeks turn rosy with my words, delighting me.“Yeah, I’m glad, too.Though if we ever mustclear the airagain, I wouldn’t be disappointed, given our flawless and transcendent capabilities in that department.”His pink cheeks bloom red with his innuendo.
A laugh rises from my core and tumbles through a surprised smile.“We were quite perfect with that.Weren’t we?”
“Quite.”
“Well, perhaps we should followyouradvice in this regard,” I say, butterflies filling my stomach with warm, fluttering wings.
“What advice was that?”
“How about I be Venus, and you be Henry, and we let this go wherever it takes us?”
His full lips widen into a delighted smile while his dark eyes seem to glow with the idea.“Agreed.It’s summer, after all.”
Now, I blush, recalling his words.Let’s pretend it’s always summer for us.
With a sheepish glance at his feet, his brown eyes return to mine.“I’d like that.I’d also like it if we’d stop avoiding each other on campus.”
Embarrassment rushes over me, but seeing his coy grin reins it back.“You noticed?”
“It’d be impossible for me not to notice you, Venus.”
Heat rises in me again.“Um, it would be nice to have a friend on campus.”
His head tilts with scrutiny.“It’s not going well?”
I consider dismissing his question with a vague response.But I recall Dr.Broderick’s advice this week after telling her about my poor teaching performances:“Practice gentle honesty with yourself and others, Venus.Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”
“It’s awful,” I say, sighing heavily, like the information has been pounding at a locked door, desperate to be let free.“Attendance has dropped, and even the faithful ones have trouble staying awake.Dad’s notes aren’t stimulating without him here to mix in his stories.I get tongue-tied and nervous, so I read the notes he’s provided without elaborating.The classroom has gray walls and humming lights, and being in there without color, withoutgreen, feels like wearing a hot, itchy sweater.”
A full-bodied cringe wiggles over me as I explain.“The only way I get through the class is by focusing on the words I’m reading.My inability to do well makes me a hypocrite for all the teachers I’ve ridiculed over the years.It also breaks my heart because I love botany and want to do well for Dad.He’ll be thoroughly disappointed when no one signs up for more of his special topics courses.It wouldn’t surprise me if students change their majors out of the sciences altogether after suffering through it.”
“Venus, take a breath,” he says when I pause.
I’m surging with anxiety and twisting my bracelets and rings, so I do what he says.I shake out my fingers and inhale.
He steps closer, creating a warm pocket between us.“Listen to me.No one starts something new as an expert, not even you.It’s your first week.Of course, you’re nervous and finding your way.My first week of teaching, I muddled facts, forgot the name of the principal, calling him ‘the monotone office guy’ in front of the kids, and I led my class through the entire school in a fire drill because I’d been too busy decorating my classroom to bother learning where the nearest exit was.The monotone office guy told me that I was the first teacher in the school’s history to fail a fire drill.”
His confession makes me laugh.
“Lives could’ve been lost, Venus,” he chuckles sheepishly, and his cheeks turn pink again.
“How did you improve?”
“I made connections.The more I got to know them, and they got to know me, the more comfortable I felt,” he says.“Here’s my advice for you.Stop using your father’s notes.You know the material.You don’t need notes, and they prevent you from making the class your own.”
“But then, what do I do to fill the time?”
“Be authenticallyyou.You were my best science teacher growing up,” he says with a smile that sends tingles up my spine.“You can teach them, too, Vee.You don’t have to smile or make small talk if you don’t want to.You don’t have to be anyone but yourself.Just share your love for botany the best way you know how to, and they’ll respond.”
His encouragement inspires strange reactions.My pulse quickens, my eyes water, and I think of art.When I want to understand and remember something, I draw a picture of it.But how could I apply that here?
Henry smiles as I consider his advice.“I’m proud of you.So is your father.Maybe it hasn’t always been clear to you… or to us but we have faith in you.You should have faith in yourself, too.”
