Page 125 of You + Me – Against the World

“I hope you’re proud of yourself, Lancaster.”

“Excuse me?”

“Wasn’t it enough for you to just turn Caleb down? Did you really have to lecture him too? Tear him into tiny shreds to ensure he never comes back?”

“I just wanted to be honest with him.”

“End result: he announced that he would never set foot in my ‘dump of a place’ again, that he’s only been hanging around here these last few months because of you, and that it was my fault he believed he had a chance. He also said that he hated me, that I could go back to my crappy little life with my dog as my only son, and that the party was over.”

I can see him struggling with his emotions, fighting them with all his strength.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Abrams. That’s really not what I wanted.”

He slips an index finger under his thin wire-rimmed glasses to discreetly wipe away an unwelcome tear. I’m moved by his distress and obvious loneliness. But his anger doesn’t subside, and he continues to take it out on me.

“You wanted to prove something to yourself, Lancaster, is that it? So, you came and put on a little performance, just like Arcadi taught you! Provoking people, taunting them with what you have and what they don’t, hurting them while hiding behind the excuse of honesty.”

It seems so unfair to me that I raise my voice a little to make sure I’m heard. “First of all, Caleb was the one who asked me to come over, and it was the two of you who organized that little meeting—without asking if it was something I wanted. Vadim had nothing to do with it. Secondly, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who taught me that. To be myself, not to pretend. To share everything, show everything. Even the truths that hurt.”

“This is about my son, Lancaster! Not your life journey or your cheap little movie,” he says in a tone dripping with contempt.

“Then take care of your son, instead of trapping me into doing it for you!”

I drop this bombshell on him and run away across the campus. It’s the first time I’ve dared to speak to him like that. And probably the last. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get me kicked out of college. But he came looking for answers, didn’t he?

***

I spend the day dreading my next class with Abrams. When I finally see Vadim, I provide him with a summary of my face-off with our professor. He tells me that he’s proud that I stood up for myself. But the moment I walk into that classroom, I’m not nearly as confident anymore.

“I suppose it’s too much to expect you to change your habits after six months: don’t sit down, don’t be quiet, and of course, make sure you delay the start of class,” sighs Mr. Abrams, arms crossed. “Go ahead, continue… After all, it’s only April. You still have three months left to ruin your year.”

When everyone falls silent, the professor returns to his desk, sits down, and clears his throat. His worn velvet jacket suddenly seems huge on his hunched shoulders.

“Now that I have your attention, I’m going to take advantage of it, since it won’t last more than ten minutes considering what babies you are. I have several announcements to make: first, you will present your short films in mid-May.”

“But you said early June, Professor!” Hannah Goldberg whines, entering into a full-blown panic attack.

“The world does not revolve around you all, you know! I have gathered a jury of six people this year: three of your professors, including me, and three renowned directors who once studied here. I know I’m asking the impossible, but try not to embarrass me.”

“Well, thanks for the encouragement!” mutters Andrew Clark under his breath.

“I see your mouth isn’t full for once! Are the junk food vending machines empty today?”

Rather than answer him, Andrew slides down in his chair in an attempt to disappear.

Two rows away from him, Clémentine rummages through her purse and grabs a Snickers, leaving just the very end of the wrapper visible at the top of her bag. She gestures to him that she’s saving it for the end of class, and Andrew’s smile returns.

“Second,” the professor resumes in his weary voice, “the teaching assistant position is now vacant.”

“Me, Professor, me!” Nicki Scott cries out, waving her arm.

“And third: this position is suspended until further notice!”

Every head in the class swivels toward the front row, where I’m sitting. I don’t need to turn around to know that every pair of eyes is fixed on me. No need for a mirror, either, to guess that I’m blushing bright red. Here it is: the hour of my punishment has arrived.

“Forget it, Nicki. You’re not good enough for his son,” Vadim says.

“Would you care to repeat that, Arcadi?” Abrams bristles and starts changing color himself.