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“I know that when you look back at this conversation, you will regret your choice of words and their sentiment, Orla. I’ve known you all my life, you raised me, and I’ve never known you to be homophobic or cruel.”
“Do not patronize me! I nursed your colds and bandaged your skinned knees, and this is the thanks I get.”
The words echoed those that Joanne had spoken earlier in the day, yet these lacked any genuine affection Jo’s had been filled with. In the face of such a drastic contrast, Sam braced for more hits to come, but couldn’t keep silent.
“I didn’t realize that you wiped my nose and bandaged my knees for gratitude. Because Iamgrateful. Very much so. But my gratitude and the fact that I’m beholden to you for being kind and raising me and supporting me does not change the fact that you are way out of line right now. And I will be speaking to the Ethics Board regarding your homophobic comments.”
“Threatening me, are you now, Sam? I’d think twice if I were you.”
The clearing of a throat from a mere couple of feet away made both of them jump, and Sam was both annoyed and delighted to see George.
“Is everything all right here, Professors?”
With a last, decidedly mean-spirited glare, Orla staggered away in a cloud of her signature perfume. Roses, the smell Sam had always found dependable and true, suddenly felt oppressive and overwhelming again. She’d come full circle on her dislike for the flower, it seemed.
With George still looking at her with overt curiosity, Sam just shook her head and set out in the opposite direction to where Orla had disappeared. She was halfway to the dormitories before she realized that, at this given moment, she had no idea where she needed to be. Stopping, she simply leaned against the window, put her forehead against the cool glass, and closed her eyes.
She knew she was right, from the scholarship girls, to Magdalene, to her own goddamn snotty nose and skinned knees, she was right about everything and yet her confrontation with Orla still left a bitter taste in her mouth and a deep ache in her chest. This woman was as good as a mother to her. She and Joanne had filled a hole that was still burning inside her, the one that kept yearning for a parent, for unconditional love and attention, and a hug from someone who gave a damn about her, blood or no blood. To now have that woman turn on her like this, with so much malice and contempt?
Sam opened her eyes to realize she had been standing rooted to this spot for quite some time and that she still had duties related to Opening Day to fulfill. Her own broken heart would have to be set aside. She had a feeling that Orla might come around and see how wrong she was. The older woman was impulsive and stubborn. She had also said some pretty damn inexcusable things that Sam was sure did not represent who she really was. But the pain she had caused Sam with those words, whether she meant them or not, was so real and so sharp.
Sam’s eyes fell on a nail that was sticking out of the old wooden window frame for some reason. She raised her hand and pulled it out easily, as rusty and as old as it was. But the jagged hole remained in the wood, and Sam thought that this was perhaps the perfect metaphor for what had happened today between her and Orla. Her mentor would come back, would apologize, but the damage was done. Orla might pull the rusty nails she’d hammered into Sam today, but the holes were here to stay.
Shaking her head at her own silly attempt to romanticize the frankly appalling situation, Sam threw the rusty nail into the first trash can she could find. For all she knew, Orla would never apologize, and Sam had made up an entire metaphorical scenario in her overeager imagination. It was time to get back to work, and it was time to put both headmistresses out of her mind. For polar opposite reasons, the current and former one had taken too much space in Sam’s calendar today, and she had children to supervise.
* * *
The evening found her on the Amber Dragon Cliff with a piece of chalk. She’d noticed it on her way up the path and for some reason had picked it up. Mindlessly, she was doodling on the smooth rock face when she heard the now-familiar steps behind her. As always, before Magdalene made her appearance Willoughby trotted silently ahead of her. He bumped his big ginger head into Sam’s side, as if acknowledging her presence, then headed to a small, grassy knoll not too far, as though to not lose his mistress from sight, but also to not be disturbed in his doze by the impending conversation. He made biscuits on the grass for a moment before settling his bulk down, facing the humans as his eyes slowly closed, unperturbed by the melancholy of the moment or the chilly wind blowing in from the ocean.
“I had no idea you could draw.” Magdalene’s voice sounded from above Sam’s head before the Headmistress settled down next to her, but not until she’d placed a shawl on Sam’s shoulders. The garment smelled like jasmine, and Sam inhaled fully, having missed the spring scent, and the scent of this woman, despite the fact that she’d kissed her just this morning. Sam seemed to always miss her. Since she’d first seen her in that bar all those months ago, she had been unable to get her fill. To gulp in enough as to not feel the absence of Magdalene like a gaping wound every time she left the room.
“Although I may have overstated whatever it is you’re doing here, Sam.” The low, sensual chuckle interrupted Sam’s meandering thoughts and made her arms erupt in goosebumps before she registered the slight insult.
“I was doodling.”
“Whatever you say, darling.” The smile she received was indulgent and fond, although a little sad around the edges.
“What happened?” Sam reached out and clasped Magdalene’s wrist in her chalky hand, leaving white smears on already pale skin. Upon seeing the marks she was leaving, Sam let go of the delicate joint, missing the contact immediately.
“Can I answer that question with an amusing joke instead?” Magdalene had a half-smile on her face, a bit sly as if she was trying to get away with something. Sam decided to let her. For now.
“Okay.”
“I found a mouse in my office today. Or, to be perfectly honest, Sir Willoughby found it.”
Sam’s stomach clenched.
“Another dead critter? I thought this whole thing stopped after we talked to the cops.”
“Yes, it did, and I got a bit of a jolt, too, when I saw this massive mouse just lying there. But it turned out that Sir Willoughby decided to bring me an homage? A gift? I don’t know what he was thinking, because I believe this was single-handedly the very first mouse he has ever caught, and the poor baby didn’t know what to do with it, so he just left it on my desk. Then I came in and screeched, as you can imagine, and the mouse, probably playing possum all this time, jumped and attempted to run away. Willoughby ran after it, caught it again, and when he put it in his mouth, he was so grossed out, he proceeded to throw up all over my carpet, which is when the mouse took the opportunity to make itself scarce, leaving me with a puking catanda dirty carpet.”
Sam and Magdalene exchanged incredulous looks, then stared at the tom in question, happily snoozing on his knoll, and simultaneously burst into laughter.
“I have no idea why the school ever thought that this particular cat would be a good mouser, Sam. I swear he was scared and grossed out and looking at me afterward like ‘You monsters, you want me to do what with mice?’”
The smile died down in Magdalene’s eyes, and she absently rubbed her arms, warding away the chill of the night. Or the foreboding conversation that Sam had a feeling would follow.
“Still, for a moment there, before the mouse revived itself, the thought of the whole harassment issue hit me again. I got used to not looking over my shoulder these past several weeks, Sam. I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t expected something like what happened today. I think I managed to ruffle pretty much everyone’s feathers.”
