Fire and Water

by Amanda Kayhart

  “Ah, Zilha.” Diane blushed with a chuckle, watching the copies stack in the tray. “Always a source of informative, yet wildly inappropriate departmental gossip.”

  “Thank you.” Zilha crossed her arms and shrugged with a grin. “I try.”

  Pulling the warm copies of her spring syllabus from the tray, Diane breathed a sigh of relief finding her work paginated and neatly stapled in a matter of minutes. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said. “The department would be lost without you.”

  “Lucky for you, I am here,” Zilha said, patting Diane on the shoulder. “It’s nice to see your face around here again, too. How was your leave? Must be nice to be back.”

  “Oh. I’m not back. Officially,” Diane said, stepping to the side as a colleague made a beeline for the unoccupied copier. “Not until December.”

  “Either way,” Zilha said, following Diane out of the print and mail room, “it’s nice having you around. Ciao!”

  Hugging the syllabi to her chest, Diane waved and pivoted out of the office.

  “Ooh, I almost forgot.”

  Diane turned. “Yes?”

  “I brought goodies. It’s in the lounge,” Zilha called, from behind her desk. “Eat. You look too thin and tired—and old!”

  “Ciao, Zilha!” Diane yelled and scurried down the hall, before her colleagues intercepted Zilha’s astute observations and added their own adjectives to the list.

  Though it was a relief, quite frankly. At least Diane looked as depressingly crappy as she felt. Hurrying through the English department—greeting familiar students and friendly colleagues along the way—Diane returned to her cramped office at the end, dumping the stack of syllabi on her desk and collapsing in her chair with a groan. Classes were just released and, unwrapping a strawberry candy she plucked from the bowl on her desk, Diane popped the candy in her mouth and watched the scatter of students walking across campus out her third-floor window.

  For the last two weeks, Diane settled back into her life. Unpacked. Relaxed. Reset herself. In the early mornings, Diane caught up with Joyce—who was now fully recovered from her hip surgery and tending her garden with the pep of a preadolescent—and expressed her gratitude towards her kind neighbor for keeping her lemon trees green and growing in her absence. In some ways, it was nice to be back and settled. But the appeal quickly wore off. After a few days of working from home, sending out dozens of query letters to every suitable agent she could find, Diane had had enough. The painful silence around her was unsettling, and Diane found herself more distracted than ever being at home.

  Which, Diane assured herself, checking her phone for any messages from Michelle, more times than was mentally healthy, had absolutely zero influence on her diverted attention.

  Zilch.

  Deciding a proper academic atmosphere might be the best solution for her lack of focus, Diane headed to campus. Perhaps getting back into her office, back in a routine, and setting her sights ahead for the spring semester, Diane could prevent herself from thinking about who and what she’d left behind. Sucking on her sweet candy, Diane spun in her chair and opened her laptop. Sitting in her office with a to-do list a mile long was better than anywhere else, moping and pretending to be home sweet home.

  “Knock-knock,” Jean Sullivan’s nasally voice broke out as she rapped on the door frame with her knuckle, holding a travel tray with two coffee cups in her other hand. “Rumor had it you were back in the neighborhood. Thought I’d swing by and see for myself. You busy?”

  Looking up from her laptop, Diane smiled as her good friend—associate professor of women and gender studies—waltzed into her office. Jean’s hair was just as red and frizzy and poufy as she last saw it, and Diane stood breathing in her scent of patchouli and gave her friend a hug, wrapping her arms around Jean’s petite frame. Landing in the embrace of a good friend was a successful trip to campus all on its own.

  “Come in, come in,” Diane said, gesturing to the vacant seat across from her. “Sit down. I’m so happy you’re here. Thank you for the coffee.”

  “No problem,” Jean said, relaxing in the cushioned chair. She crossed her legs and swung her foot back and forth, taking a sip herself, her pale-ivory cheeks reddening from the heat. “So, tell me, how was your time away from this godforsaken hellscape? Is it as heavenly as I imagine it would be?”

  Diane chuckled. “It’s been good.”

  “Don’t tell me that, Diane,” she said, tipping her head back with a groan.

  “You asked.”

  “Yes, but you could’ve at least humored me and lied,” Jean said. “I recently agreed to look over Stephen’s piece on Dostoevsky, and you know it’s going to be some coma-inducing, egotistical drivel for two dozen pages.”

  Diane laughed harder. “Why do you torture yourself?”

  “’Cause you haven’t been here to stop me!” Jean laughed. “That, and I felt bad everyone else had been avoiding his paper like the plague.”

  “Probably for good reason.” Diane smirked. “You’re too kindhearted for academia.”

  “You know what,” Jean nodded with a smile and raised her coffee cup to her lips, “I really am—and so are you. On that note, don’t keep me waiting. Did you finish that damn book of yours?”

  Diane smiled and picked up her hot drink, taking a sip and grimacing at the mixture of vanilla coffee and strawberry candy on her tongue. “I did.”

  “That’s my girl.” Jean saluted with her coffee cup. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now you can focus all your energy on making a killer dossier for your reappointment,” Jean said.

  Diane groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

  Jean frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re having trouble with it. After completing a full-length novel, a short professional narrative should be a breeze.”

  “It should be,” Diane sighed, “once I actually start on it.”

  “What?” Jean dropped her coffee down on the desk. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  Diane cringed and wrapped her fingers around her drink, staring down at the lid. She glanced back at her friend with a guilty expression. “In my defense, I’ve been completely wrapped up in my book, and to be honest, outside of that, being away on sabbatical hasn’t been the best influence on my work ethic. It’s been more distracting than I anticipated.”

  Jean shrugged and picked up her coffee again. “Well, I don’t blame you in that regard,” she said. “That’s why I never apply for one. If I ever got an escape from this place, I’d probably never come back.”

  “Jean, you’re always such a proud spokesperson for higher education,” Diane observed sarcastically.

  “I know right,” Jean laughed. “They should really throw me in that mascot costume and have me prance around.”

  “Well there’s an image,” Diane chuckled.

  “In all seriousness,” Jean said, leaning closer, “get cracking on that dossier. It takes longer than you’d imagine gathering everything for the committee. And just think, you land your reappointment, you’ll be one step closer to a coveted tenure-track position, and enjoying your prestigious life sentence to this place like the rest of us,” Jean laughed.

  “Right,” Diane nodded, forcing a smile on her face. “Tenure. That’s the plan.”

  ***

  The cork popped. Diane watched the soothing effervescence of the rosé champagne rising to the surface of her flute glass, as Kevin finished pouring the celebratory drink. Evenings at the Cook household changed little in Diane’s absence; dinner at Maureen and Kevin’s always featured fancy, high-end drinks and lavish meals, but what they were eating and drinking to that night was particularly special. After a delicious course of braised beef and roasted vegetables, Kevin announced his named partnership at a new law firm in Miami. Hearing life-altering news wasn’t what Diane expected coming over to her friends’ house that evening—she’d hoped for an uneventful and quiet night catching up with her friends. Diane was stunned. Happy f
or her friends, but honestly shocked. Her wide-eyed gaze shifted across the table to Maureen, her best friend was deliriously lost, admiring her husband with a proud and smitten smile dazzling across her face.

  Achieving named partnership was a grand accomplishment, and Diane was over the moon for Kevin. But truthfully, Diane had to fake an elated expression on her features, fighting disappointment, not for her friends, because they deserved all good things, but frustration in herself. Lifting her glass, Diane toasted to Kevin and brought the champagne to her lips, but she didn’t taste any of it. The exquisite drink was overshadowed by her own shortcomings.

  Settling into work on campus had the adverse effect of what Diane wanted. Returning to her office only made Diane overwhelmed, realizing how much of her professional life she’d neglected these past two months—of which Jean painfully reminded her. There was a plethora of documents Diane needed to gather before February—peer reviews, student evaluations, and the vital dossier accompanied by a professional narrative, which she hadn’t a clue how to even begin. What a mess. Diane sighed and guzzled the rest of the champagne, hoping the gulp of bubbles floating in her gut would lift her sober spirits.

  “Glosson, Mertzlufft and Cook,” Kevin said beaming, he held the flute of champagne to his lips and shook his head. “It does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

  “You know it, baby,” Maureen said, kissing Kevin on his cheek.

  “I’m so happy for you, Kevin,” Diane said with a genuine smile. “I can’t think of anyone more deserving.”

  “Thank you, Dee.”

  “When do you start?” Diane asked.

  Kevin drew in a long breath and eyed Maureen. “Not until January,” he said. “But I have to make several trips down there and meet with my new clients and members of the team ahead of time.”

  “And there’s a matter of shopping for a commercial space for me,” Maureen chimed in, settling her hand on his shoulder. “Kev knows several realtors in the area, and it sounds like they’ve all got a few good places to show me.”

  “That sounds incredible.” Diane smiled at her favorite couple. “It’ll be nice for you working out of an official office and not from home.”

  “I can’t wait. You’ll have to come with me,” Maureen said, winking at Diane. “I’ll need your trusted sensibility around to keep me from buying all of South Beach while I’m down there.”

  “Yes, please,” Kevin said, looking at Diane with his pleading brown eyes. “I can’t have her spending all my partner equity on Versace handbags and heels.”

  Diane laughed. “That’s quite the endeavor. But I’ll do my best.”

  “So, you’re not upset?” Maureen asked, her expression turning serious.

  “Upset? Of course not,” Diane said. “I want you two to be happy and successful. Besides, I can’t say I’m surprised by any of this. You’ve both talked about living in Miami for years.”

  “Are you sure?” Maureen asked. “I didn’t intend on dropping this news on you so soon once you got back. But I didn’t want to keep it from you either.”

  “Maureen,” Diane leaned across the table and took her friend’s hand in her own, “I love you, both of you, and if Miami is calling you, then you’ll get nothing but support from me.”

  Maureen sighed. “You’re awesome.”

  Falling back against her chair, Diane nodded with a smile. “I know.”

  Kevin’s phone rang and he looked at the screen. “This is the new firm,” he said, standing quickly. “I’ve got to take this. Excuse me.”

  Kevin kissed his wife on the top of her head, and Maureen watched her husband until he disappeared from the room. She spun around and snatched up the champagne. “You want to finish this thing outside?” Maureen asked, waving the bottle back and forth. “The final stages of the restaurant are happening over the next several weeks, and if I don’t soothe my stress with excessive amounts of alcohol, I’m not handling it like a proper adult.”

  Diane laughed. “Sounds good.”

  Following Maureen outside, they settled into chairs on the back patio, which boasted an ocean-front view, overlooking the bay. The waters were calm, dotted with boats peacefully trolling by. It was a beautiful autumn night, and Diane breathed in the warm air as it rustled the palm trees above. Being back in Florida was still surreal. She’d spent her entire life in the South, and everything about this place should feel comforting. But Diane was homesick for some place new. She missed Vermont. The richness of the landscape and its unmatched tranquility. There were plenty of times over the last couple of weeks Diane found herself daydreaming of the leaves changing and the sharp scent of frost filling the early morning—

  “Earth to Diane?” Maureen said, refilling Diane’s glass and setting the bottle on the table between them. “Are you with me?”

  “I’m sorry,” Diane said softly, turning towards her friend. “What were you saying?”

  Maureen frowned. “I said, I bet you’re happy to be back in the warm weather.”

  “Oh,” Diane nodded, “yes. It’s nice.”

  “Are you sure you’re handling all this okay?” Maureen asked. She turned herself fully and focused her eyes on Diane, curling her legs underneath herself as she brought the champagne to her lips. “You can tell me if you’re upset. I didn’t want to say anything regarding Kevin’s job prospect until we were certain. I promise I wasn’t trying to keep you in the dark intentionally.”

  Diane sighed. “I understand, and I’m not upset,” she said. “I think this is a great thing. For both of you.”

  Maureen leaned back into the chair with a sigh, staring up at the evening sky. “I’m not buying that bullshit for half a second,” she said. “Come on. What’s going on with you?”

  Diane shook her head and turned her eyes towards the water. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  “Is it about your book? Are you worried about finding an agent?” Maureen asked. “Publishing takes time, and you’re just getting started. It’s only been a couple weeks since you started querying agents.”

  “I know. It’s not about that. I mean, I am concerned because I haven’t received any replies yet, but—”

  “Is it about work?” Maureen asked. “I’d imagine being away from campus for so long, it’d be difficult getting back into it. Are you not ready to go back to teaching?”

  That was a loaded question. One that Diane wrestled with, not only in her weeks since returning from Vermont, but before her sabbatical even started. Diane liked the security of a steady job, a steady schedule to have year-round. But now she had the taste of something different, a spark that lit her stomach full of fire and made her heart long for something new. Becoming a full-time author was always the dream, but it was only ever that. An impractical and unrealistic dream. The divorce was over, and Diane was on her own. She had to be practical and level-headed for her own well-being. Right? And if Vermont taught Diane anything it was leaping into change and chasing the unknown was far too risky. Diane had come too far to set herself back any further.

  “Look, I know I gave you crap for going to Vermont,” Maureen said, “but I can tell it was good for you.”

  Diane turned. She studied Maureen’s honest and hopeful expression for a quiet moment before laughter bubbled in her throat.

  “And what tipped you off exactly?” Diane asked. “Was it the redness in my eyes from crying? Or the bags under my eyes from catching up on all the paperwork I’ve neglected for the last two months. No, I’m sure it was definitely the ill, pea green tone to my skin from being nauseous with worry that I fucked everything up.”

  “Did you just say…” Maureen shook her head, her eyes blinking rapidly with confusion. “Wait. I’m confused. The last time we talked things were good in Vermont. Really good.”

  “Yes, they were.” Diane looked down at her lap. “Until they weren’t.”

  “Okay…” Maureen said, dragging the word out carefully. “Then talk to me. What happened?”

  Diane nurse
d her champagne with a shrug. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Is teaching what you still want?”

  “I worked my whole life for this,” Diane said. “It’d be irresponsible not to want it.”

  “But,” Maureen continued softly, “things have changed. You’ve changed.”

  “Have I?”

  “Yes. I think so.”

  “That doesn’t mean my goals have.”

  “Are you positive? Or are you just afraid to follow your heart instead of your head?”

  “Why can’t those two things ever be synonymous?” Diane asked. “Why is it always one or the other?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Nothing. Never mind,” Diane sighed. “I’m going to keep pushing my book, focus on my career and proceed as planned. Like I should have done to begin with.”

  “You know,” Maureen started, leaning back in her chair with a cool and confident tone, “the girl I first met back in college talked about becoming an author, throwing the master plan out the window, and focusing on her writing. Granted you said these things after too much cheap Lambrusco was in you, but still. If you’re rethinking your career, Diane, what better opportunity than now?”

  Diane’s mouth twitched with her friend’s observation. When Diane first declared her major back in college, Maureen was right, she’d dreamed of getting her MFA, perhaps buying a rustic cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and simply sit at a desk and write. Build herself a true artist’s life: secluded and peaceful, spending her days wrapped up in her imagination with fictional lands and characters.

  But dreams weren’t practical and safe. Nothing became more obvious as Diane got older, watching her parents age, seeing the importance of safety nets and financial security in their golden years as their physical and mental health declined. Diane never regretted her decision to go into higher education, as she was proud of her professional accomplishments, and for the longest time, her few publications in literary journals fulfilled her enough. Finding stability, not only with her ex-wife, but in her own career, was all Diane cared about. But there was always that lingering longing, that childhood dream of becoming an author in the back of her mind. And what was stopping her now? She had the privilege of independence and money in her savings, and a career to fall back on if her book never gets published.