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CHAPTER FOUR
Thomas
Iwokeup early the next Saturday morning to prepare for my meeting with Erin, the TA I’dbeen assigned to by the school. The alarm clock woke me up at 6 AM and after jogging, lifting weights, and atoast-and-eggs breakfast, Iwas out the door.
Early as usual, Igot to my office before the meeting was due to start. The office’scurtains were closed, and Idrew them back, cracked open the windows, and let the breeze in.
As fresh air circulated inside the room, Isat in the leather chair behind the wide antique dark wood desk, fired up my laptop, and scrolled through my notes. They contained the materials of the first two lectures of the semester, which were organized for her to turn into presentations, boring work Ipreferred handing over to someone else.
With the free time I’dhave on my hands, I’dbe able to focus on teaching and painting. On trying to paint, anyway, if I’dever stop seeing myself as afailure and unpack the suitcase with my art equipment. Ithought that if Ileft it under my bed, it’dlessen the anxiety it gave me. Unfortunately, life didn’twork that way, and my anxiety worsened with every minute Ileft it untouched.
While waiting, Iwent through my notes for this meeting and the next, read my emails from my Russian clients who still wanted me to come back, and replied to students who had questions about the textbook materials.
When Ilooked at the time, Isaw it was ten minutes after nine. Not great, not terrible either.
It could’ve happened to anyone.
Thirty minutes of not showing up and not calling to explain was far less acceptable.
My email came up blank for new messages from Erin or from the dean’soffice about rescheduling. Itapped the table with one finger and gritted my teeth, waiting to see how much longer she was going to take.
This woman came with such exceptional references from two valued and tenured professors, and she had graduated summa cum laude, so it baffled me as to why she wasn’ton time.
On the other hand, that was all she had to show for—recommendations. Ididn’tknow her in person. Due to my work and delayed flights, Imissed interviewing her, amistake Iregretted sorely as Isat there waiting.
At about aquarter to ten, when Igave up and planned on leaving, Iheard aknock on the door. Ilifted my gaze and there she stood, shifting from one foot to another. Not my assistant, another woman who wanted to add to this morning’sheadache.
“Hey,” said the woman from my street and from yesterday’sspeaking engagement, her voice small.
“Hello to you too.” Ileaned forward, elbows on the desk.
She chewed on her bottom lip, same insecure gesture from the night before, looking as if she hadn’tslept all night.
“I’msorry.” She took astep inside, her eyes dancing between me and the floor.
“I…” Her apology and her being here baffled me even more than my assistant not showing up on time. “Iforgive you, and I’msorry too,” Isaid what had been weighing on me since last night. “Can Iask how you knew I’dbe here? It’snot aworkday.”
She halted, waiting before she answered. “I’mErin Holt, your TA for the painting classes this year. At least I’msupposed to be.” She blinked and swallowed visibly, alight blush coloring her cheeks. “Ialready asked them to transfer me to another professor so fingers crossed my reply will come through.”
“It’snot about fingers or having faith.” Ismacked the desk, my mood changing in an instant. “It will happen.”
Shoving the chair back with force, Istalked around the table toward the door.
Erin recoiled to the hallway as my tirade continued. “Ican’tbelieve anyone would think pairing me with you would be ahalf decent idea. Your vision of the artistic process is severely flawed, you have no respect for other people’stime, and…” Isniffed, the strong smell of alcohol seeping from her. “Are you drunk?”
She held on to her silence and my tone grew louder. “Is this your idea of agood first impression?”
Her lips pinched in atight line and her eyes narrowed in what felt like her own version of anger. She showed up drunk or hungover and had the nerve to be angry? Ifelt like Iwould’ve blown up and lost my shit if Istayed for another minute, so Iheaded directly toward the dean’soffice to settle this business and leave the memory of her far behind.
“Thomas,” she called.
My fists clenched, hanging on to the remaining threads of control Ihad left, and turned.
She stayed in the same spot, her fingers running through her long locks while holding her phone with the other hand, looking pained. “The dean’soffice emailed me with areply saying they denied my request since the semester starts in afew days and there’ll be no change in staff assignments. According to them.”
“Idon’tcare what they wrote you.” Iswiveled and continued my path to the administrator’soffice. “Consider yourself dismissed for the day. Goodbye.”
No matter what they told her, they’dhave to find me another arrangement and Iwould not take no for an answer.
