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CHAPTER THREE
Erin
What agiant asshole!. And how in the world was he, of all people, the professor I’dbe assisting this school year?
When Iagreed to go along with Laura when she asked me to attend his speech with her, Ithought that meeting my would-be boss in aneutral, non-working environment would be cool. It could’ve been, if it were any other person buthim.
His intensity mesmerized and unnerved me and then, not too much later, humiliated me. Icouldn’tlook at him or the room of people who must’ve thought Iwas an idiot. With afew short and painful sentences, he wiped out any attraction Imight’ve felt for him, when his words marked Thomas as the third man to treat me like trash for my opinions.
He had no clue about the real life of an artist, and Ihad to show it to him, for the sake of his students if nothing else. If I’dgotten emotional, Idid it for them.
And maybe showed him and Greg, who wasn’tthere, and the entire world, to watch it, that my opinion counted.
Ugh, how much more could this week suck?
The worst part of it was, Ihad to work with him and that Icouldn’tagree to. Not if Iwanted what remained of my self-esteem to not be crushed. I’demail the dean’soffice as soon as Laura and Igot back home and have them find me someone more…human. Adecent, humble human.
Until then, Iplanned to keep him out of my mind and savor acomforting red velvet cupcake with Laura. We walked hand in hand through the food market trucks and then, just my luck, Ispotted him for the third time in two days. Mister Know-It-All Cooke sat in an expensive restaurant, legs crossed one on top of the other, hands behind his head and not caring in the least that he humiliated me in front of everyone less than an hour ago.
Laura’seyes followed mine and she poked me with her elbow. “Erin, you had ashit week. You don’tneed to add him to your list of problems.”
“Iwill soon, though.” Isighed, unable to tear my eyes from him.
“Not today.” She pulled me again.
“Tomorrow is soon enough for me to feel sorry for myself.” Ihuffed.
The dean’sadministrator scheduled for Thomas and me to have our introductory meeting the day after, to get to know each other and start working on the class materials. Ihad nowhere to run unless they said yes to me being transferred.
“Let it gooo.” Laura pinched me lightly when the tugging and pulling wouldn’twork.
The cupcake didn’ttaste as good with the taste of sour disappointment in my mouth, and Ithrew it in the nearby trash. “Ican’t. You know how excited Iwas for this school year to start.”
I’dbeen waiting for it ever since Igraduated ayear ago. In that year Iworked as awaitress to support myself, despite Greg’sconstant complaints about me not being there exactly when he needed me.
Ididn’tcare though, because it would’ve all been worth it when I’dstarted my master’sdegree in Art Education and would’ve been able to quit waitressing to become aTA for the professor who taught my favorite painting classes.
Because even though Ilived and breathed painting ever since my mom put apaintbrush in my hand at the age of three, Icouldn’thave seen myself loving it now. Even though Iresearched it to an obsession, reading every book available about the history of art throughout the years, Irealized my knowledge would be belittled by my boss.
Instead of long after-hours conversations, fruitful dialogues into the night, and sharing our mutual interest and passion for painting, Iwas faced with ayear of self-praise and dogmatic monologues.
“Iknow, Er, Iknow.” Laura enveloped me in one of her signature, loving hugs. “Ihave something for your mood. Two somethings, actually.”
“Anything to take my mind off this.”
“That’sthe spirit.” She squeezed me, smiling from ear to ear and thrusting her phone into my hands. “I’ll start with the highlight: afriend replied to the apartment search Iposted on Facebook, saying she’svacating hers. Afive-minute walk from my home! We’ll be neighbors!”
Ireturned her phone, feeling deflated. “Laura, you know Ican’tafford it with my TA salary.”
“It’snothing fancy, and her parents are friends with the landlord, so he’sokay with lowering the rent if you bring the necessary papers and sign the lease this week.”
“Really?”
“Yes!” She pushed the phone back in my hand. “Look at it.”
“Okay.” Iswiped through the photos with Laura.
The living room and bedroom were small, and the kitchen was decorated with off-white tiles. It had agray couch, and awhite bed, shelves, and closets. Ismiled at the idea of putting up my paintings and bringing color to this place.
