I jerked the fruit closer and aggressively speared a strawberry with my fork, chewing it quickly and moving to take my anger out on the innocent cantaloupes.
“Oh, honey,” Bev said, breaking off a piece of her croissant and chewing. “I can’t imagine how tough everything has been for you lately. Miller’s been a mess as well.”
“He has?” I asked with a piece of cantaloupe partway to my mouth. “I mean, I’d hoped—wait. No. I’d never hope he was a mess.”
“You know, Emma, Miller was so disappointed when he had to leave your place last weekend.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said, a pain of guilt stabbing its way between my third and fourth rib. I dropped the fork, rubbing my breastbone and shaking my head. “But him leaving finally made me understand how he must have felt all those times when I’d canceled plans with him.”
“Well, sometimes that’s what it takes for us to see what’s been right in front of us,” Bev said, breaking off and eating another piece of her pastry.
“Agreed, but now that I know what I want, who’s to say he still wants the same thing?”
“Hmm.” She pushed the overnight oats closer. I switched the fork for a spoon and dug in, tasting the delicious honey. The food did more for my mood than any amount of sleep could, and I sighed, knowing how stupid it was to forgo self-care for self-deprivation.
“Perhaps an honest conversation is in order.”
“And an apology,” I said, sticking my spoon in the oats and pushing the food away before pulling the coffee closer.
“Both of you are too hard on yourselves. So, just talk it out and be better together.”
“It seems so easy when you say it like that.” I chuckled, wrapping my fingers around the warm mug of coffee.
“Oh, honey. There is nothing easy about love, but once you realize you have it, things will only get better.”
My morning passedquickly once I arrived at the academy after that enlightening breakfast. It was filled with the usual gophering and filing, but the tediousness I once felt wasn’t present. This job, exactly how I had it, wasn’t the most fulfilling, but I was making a difference, improving lives, and taking the strain off teachers who wouldn’t normally be given the opportunity for breaks and assistance.
What more could I ask for? Some were lucky enough to begin a career right out of college, and others didn’t find it until much later. Was there some unwritten rule that said I had to have a promotion by a particular age?
I took my coffee from where it rested on the corner of my desk and twitched my nose when I realized it was no longer hot. I wiggled my computer mouse on my desk to wake up the monitor, knowing I’d need to grab another cup before afternoon lessons.
“It’s nice to see such an admirable work ethic,” Headmaster Hopkirk said, leaning against the doorframe of my office.
I squeaked, putting my hand on my chest and crinkling my brows before pushing my blue-light glasses to the crown of my head and meeting his eyes. One leg was crossed over the other, and his lips were turned up in a way that was supposed to be a smile. On him, the emotion was far closer to a sneer. Under his heavy gaze, I stood, smoothing down my blouse before motioning for him to step inside.
He eyed the small office, looking at the certificates on the wall before focusing on the half-drunk, cold cup of coffee on the corner of my desk with a mauve lipstick stain. I claspedmy hands in front of my stomach to keep from snatching the ceramic cup away or obsessively organizing the papers that cluttered the desk. He stepped inside but away from my desk, straightening his tie and sitting at the small table perpendicular to the desk.
The snub was clear. He would not put himself across from me while I sat at my desk. Instead, he’d chosen a neutral location, knowing I’d follow. I rolled my eyes at his back, watching as he ran his fingers over the sides of his hair, smoothing down the short strands—as if any would be out of place.
“How has your day been, sir?” I asked, sitting at my round table across from him and crossing my legs. My office didn’t have a sterling silver tea set, complete with sugar cubes and freshly sliced lemons, but I should offer a beverage. The staff lounge was nearby, and our instructors were all known for their caffeine addiction, so it was kept well stocked.
The headmaster steepled his fingers, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward, pinning me with his eyes.
“Could I prepare a tea for you? Or coffee?” His head barely moved, declining the offer as we lapsed back into uncomfortable silence. I hated that I needed to fill the quiet, obsessively thinking of neutral topics of conversation.
“I do need to thank you for the opportunity to assist the upperclassmen with their research projects. We spent some time charting subjects and then cross-referencing those with current and historical events.”
He removed his thin, wire-framed glasses and placed one end in his mouth, clicking the metal against his teeth. I tapped my foot on the carpet in time with his movements, feeling like I was being examined under a microscope and found wanting. I crossed one foot over the other, and I wiggled in my seat, growing more uncomfortable by the second.
I should learn how to play this game, how to thrive in the silence, but another part of me didn’t want to play—shouldn’t have to play.
Right?
“No, thank you. I’ll have Mary Ann prepare a cup when I return to my office. And I’m sure our librarian appreciated the assistance with the older students. She’s under the impression there hasn’t been a significant world event since Desert Storm.”
I pursed my lips, taking a page out of his book and choosing uncomfortable silence instead of rattling off twelve ways I could improve the library without setting foot inside the doors.
“You being so versatile is certainly an asset, even if your choice of company at our evening events leaves something to be desired.” He chucked, unbuttoning his jacket and adjusting his tie.
