“Wanna meet for lunch sometime this week? I could show you around campus and we could grab a bite at Nico’s?”
“Nico’s?” That was the wrong answer. I didn’t say no and now he thinks I want to have lunch with him.
He nods. “Yeah, Nico’s pizza. It’s the closest thing to legit New York pizza you’ll find on this side of the country.” Well now, there’s the one word that could change my mind: pizza. Pizza is to Alis as ice cream is to a teenage girl with a broken heart. You simply cannot have one without the other.
Brody seems nice, not creepy. Maybe he’d be down for living in my friend zone? I mean, he didn’t ask me to dinner — he asked to show me around campus and meet for pizza. Friends do that kind of stuff. So do nerdy student government kids in high school when the new kid shows up. I’m the new kid. He’s the not nerdy but definitely enthusiastic class president.
“Yeah, that sounds good.” I mentally scroll through my schedule this week and find a few hours free on Wednesday. “I could do Wednesday at 10? Show me around a bit and we can grab lunch after?”
His face lights up. I hope that smile means “yay, new friend!” and not “pretty girl like boy!”
“That works for me. Give me your number and I’ll text you to meet up.” How do I say no without sounding like a total bitch? Wait, I’ll see him that morning in class.
“I gotta run, but we can make a plan Wednesday morning in class? See ya then!” I turn back toward the building and walk through the door before I can hear his response.
I’ve been here less than two weeks and have had two different guys ask me out. Aside from tourists, I haven’t had one flirty comment tossed my way from a man my age in nearly a decade. That’s what happens when you live in a small town where everyone knows each other and the only single men are tourists or like brothers. The few times a year I headed into the city I always had mom and Sunny in tow. Very few men try to pick up women with their mother and child in tow at Old Navy and Pottery Barn.
Does having lunch with a man communicate that I’m interested? Or is it normal for single men and women to have lunch together, strictly platonic?Brody didn’t try to touch me, so that’s good. Maybe he’s not interested in more than friendship. Wait, I think he nudged my arm at one point. Maybe he’s just being nice to the new girl. Maybe he’s gay? Or, better yet, maybe he’s in a committed relationship and his girlfriend will join us on Wednesday so I won’t have to question whether or not anything I say or do can be misconstrued as flirting!
Or, maybe you should stop overthinking everything and get excited about pizza. Noted.
THIRTEEN
9 years ago
I’m hopingtoday’s meeting proves beneficial and that Dr. Ryan can accommodate my new commuter status. I still need to find someone to sublet my apartment through the end of my lease, pack up my belongings, and officially move back in with my parents.
I can’t store my apartment furniture, so I’m hoping I can either sell it online or the subletter can offer a decent price for everything. Overthinking has resulted in an epic tension headache, and the end is nowhere in sight.
As I pull into the parking lot near the faculty offices, I see students and professors alike walking to and from spring break intensive classes. Some sit on benches, deep in conversation. Others seem in more of a hurry and struggle to keep their books in hand.
The weather is kind today, for March. Had last week gone differently, I’d be spending my morning preparing to give the afternoon lecture to Dr. Ryan’s undergrad English Lit class. I’ve taken advantage of how carefree my life has been up to this point. Sure, my life was busy, but I lived on my own terms. I didn’t have to think through how my daily schedule affected my family, how I wouldbudget for both school and raising a child. I wish I could switch off reality for a few hours and bask in the simplicity of last Tuesday.
No such luck.
My dashboard clock says I have fifteen minutes until I’m expected in Dr. Ryan’s office, so I gather my purse, secure my favorite wool infinity scarf, and step out into the sunny thirty-four degree day. I love the weather here. The crisp, clean air on days like today breathes life into me. I’ll miss living near campus, but at least I’m only moving an hour back home.
I step onto the sidewalk and head toward the faculty offices, staring up at the three-story historical brick building with a soft smile on my face. Although the rest of my life is currently in disarray, the comfort and stability I find on this campus calms me and helps redirect my focus to the task at hand — convincing Dr. Ryan that I can perform my TA responsibilities perfectly fine as a full-time commuter student.
Once inside, I remove my jacket and scarf and fold them over my arm as I walk toward the English pod — a cluster of offices on the first floor that house all five English department faculty members, and their shared faculty secretary.
“Lisa, hi. I have a 9:30 with Dr. Ryan. Is he ready for me?” Lisa looks up from her computer, her smiling face not revealing if she knows about my sister’s accident.
“Alis, so nice to see you. Dr. Ryan is in his office and he hasn’t had any other visitors this morning so I’m sure you can head right in.”
I thank her, hang my jacket and scarf on the coat rack near her waiting area, and head into what I hope is a productive and helpful meeting.
I knock lightly as I enter. “Dr. Ryan? It’s Alis.”
“Come on in, Alis. I just need to finish typing this email and I’ll be right with you. Please, take a seat.”
As the department head, Dr. Ryan has the largest office in the pod, complete with a separate sitting area. I’m not sure if I should sitat a chair near his desk or on the couch, but I choose the couch so I don’t crowd his space.
Why am I acting so nervous?I’ve worked with Dr. Ryan for more than a year now, and before that we had a great relationship in undergrad. I’ve earned my position as his TA and we work very well together. I should not be afraid that he’ll cast me off as if I don’t matter just because I need to adjust my schedule.
“Right then.” Dr. Ryan stands from his computer chair and walks toward the couch, greeting me with a warm smile. “How are you, Alis? I’m sure these last few days have been extremely difficult.”
I stand to shake his hand in greeting, and he places his left hand on top of our clasped hands in a comforting gesture. “I’m alright, considering the circumstances. Thank you for asking, sir.”
