She moves quickly, silently, from table to table, picking up trays and trash that other diners haven’t bothered to dispose of. She disappears into the back for a minute, returning with a broad broom so she can sweep the floor. To most of the students around her, she’s invisible. They shuffle around her, oblivious as they walk through a pile she’s just gathered from under the tables. But she isn’t invisible to everyone.
At one table, several young men are snickering and pointing at her. One of them makes a lewd gesture simulating oral sex. She just goes about her job as if she can’t hear them. I feel my face reddening with the urge to kick their scrawny little undergrad asses. But my attention shifts as I notice six students from my eight o’clock Orchestration class at another table. The same class Katherine will be attending in less than an hour. She’s clearly trying to avoid them, but they’re making it difficult, “accidentally” dropping things on the floor and then cackling wildly. I watch in horror as flutist Joanie Dolan holds up her container of orange juice and empties it onto the tabletop.
“Oh, Kate!” she calls out across the cafeteria. “Kate? Please come and clean this up.”
To my utter amazement, Katherine simply picks up a roll of paper towels and a sponge then makes her way over to the table. She’s silent as she mops up the mess. Unfortunately, they are not.
“You missed a spot,” teases Ken Logan, a tenor in the opera program.
“Yeah, Kate, you missed a spot,” echoes his girlfriend.
Still, Katherine cleans the mess, her head down, without comment. She’s about to walk away when Joanie pushes her coffee cup over, splashing it across Katherine’s apron and sweater in the process.
“Oops!” she says, either unable or unwilling to hide the grin that spreads across her face.
My hands are balling into fists and my breath is coming in angry puffs through my nostrils as I watch from my spot in the corner.
“Oh no, Kate!” Joanie exclaims with false dismay. “You’re all covered in coffee! You’d better change before class!”
“Don’t be late for Markham, Kate. You know he’ll fail you if you’re late,” teases the girl. “He wasn’t happy when you were late last week, was he? Oh, but it wasn’t my fault that bowl of cereal spilled right before your shift was over…”
I’m done. If I stand here another second, I don’t know what I might do to those little shits. I slip out the door before I can be spotted and make my way quickly back across the parking lot, shaking my head and muttering obscenities the whole way. Not just at them, but at myself.
Once I get to my office, I shut the door and lock it behind me before sitting heavily behind my desk. I look at the clock. Graduate Orchestration starts in a half hour. There’s no way she can finish cleaning that mess, change her clothing, and run all the way to the Music building in time. She’ll be at least five minutes late and, thanks to my frequent public shaming of her, there’s no way I can ignore it without causing suspicion.
Is this what’s been going on all this time? She mentioned she might be late if “something spilled” at the end of her shift. She neglected to tell me that there were people helping her to be late. Why the hell didn’t she just say something? I know for a fact that woman is not a doormat. That’s when it occurs to me, she doesn’t comment, because she can’t comment. Fighting back isn’t an option Katherine has most of the time. Not if she wants to keep herself out of the news.
Luckily, I don’t have any such concerns.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kate
I know there’s going to be trouble the second I spot them sitting at their usual table. Damn! I was so close to getting out of here on time. But I know, even before they start their crap, that there’s no way I’m getting to Drew’s class on time. I’m already glancing around the huge hall, looking for the closest mop when I hear Joanie calling me. She’s just dumped her orange juice on the table. Again. You’d think she’d get a new party trick by now. This one’s getting pretty old.
I grab the nearest roll of paper towels and rush over to clean up the mess before it seeps over the edge of the table and onto the floor. Maybe I can skip the mop after all. But that hope is short lived once the coffee goes airborne, landing in equal parts on me, and on the floor. With a silent sigh, I grab the mop and start to clean up, ignoring the taunts of my classmates as I do.
It doesn’t hurt anymore, this little game they like to play with me. In fact, I’ve invented a game of my own. Every morning that I cross paths with them, I time myself to see how long I can go without uttering a single syllable. They sneer, they taunt, they insult, and I just pretend I can’t hear it. On the days when I can pull it off, they leave the dining hall pissy because they couldn’t get a rise out of me. I love those days. Today, unfortunately, is not one of them, though.
When the coffee splashes all over my clean clothes, I realize I’m going to spend the next fifteen minutes in the ladies’ room, rinsing my sweater out and then drying it with the hand dryer. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of them.
“Really?” I hiss at Lisa. The soprano gives me a huge Cheshire cat grin that I’d like to smack right off her face. “What, are you ten years old? Haven’t you got better things to do than harass me?”
“Sure, but none of them are as fun as watching you on your hands and knees cleaning the floor,” Ken Logan pipes up and they all laugh.
I’m about to say something else when I feel a tap on my shoulder.
“You go on ahead and get cleaned up before you’re late,” my supervisor whispers softly in my ear.
I nod gratefully and hand her the mop. As I walk away, I hear my classmates giggling and wonder if the last few days ever happened. Or were they just a dream? I guess I’m about to find out, because there’s no way I’m making it to class on time today.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Drew
Seven minutes. That’s how late she is when she slips into the back of the classroom, breathing heavily, sweater covered in large, still-damp water spots where she’d obviously tried to clean it. I make a point of turning to write something on the chalkboard as she makes her way to her desk at the front of the room. When I turn around, I spot Joanie and Ken exchanging knowing looks and snickering.
“Something funny, Mr. Logan? Miss Dolan?” I ask with a glare in their direction.
They both turn serious in an instant and shake their heads no.
“Huh,” I say, pretending to consider them carefully. “Because I’m fairly certain you were just snickering. Were you snickering at me?” I accuse pointedly.
“No! No, Dr. Markham, it was just…just a joke,” Joanie says, quickly trying to convince me of what I already know to be true—but don’t care about.
“You think my class is a joke, Miss Dolan?” I twist her words and watch with satisfaction as the color drains from her overly made-up face.
“No sir,” she whispers, eyes widening.
“I think I’d like you to leave,” I say.
She stares at me in disbelief. “But I didn’t do anything!”
My glare stops her dead. I raise an eyebrow.
“Out, Miss Dolan. You, too, Mr. Logan. Now.”
The two gather their things quickly and make their way toward the door at the back of the classroom. Unfortunately for them, they pass by my desk to get there. They’re almost directly between my desk and Katherine Brenner’s when I pick up the coffee mug I’ve brought in special for this class and “knock” it on the floor in front of them. The liquid splashes up, covering both of their pants legs.
“Oops!” I say, and catch sight of Katherine’s head snapping toward me out of the corner of my eye.
Ken The Coward Logan sprints for the door, leaving Joanie Dolan standing there, staring at me.
“Miss Dolan, I believe you just knocked over my mug. I think you’d better clean that mess up before you leave.”
She starts to protest but one look at me and she shuts her mouth. I pull a roll of paper towels out of
my desk drawer and toss it at her. The girl drops to her knees reluctantly and starts to sop up the mess. The entire class is watching wordlessly in stunned disbelief. Well, not the entire class, unfortunately.
Katherine springs out of her chair and joins Joanie on the floor. She grabs the paper towels and unfurls a couple of sheets.
“Go ahead, I’ll get this,” Katherine says, shooing her away. Joanie nods dumbly.
Without so much as a glance in my direction, the flutist scurries out of the room, leaving her classmate to clean up the mess I made in an attempt to drive a point home.
Fuck me.
This is not the way I imagined this would go.
I drop to my knees and join Katherine on the floor, mopping up the soggy mess. With her back to the class, she gives me a what the fuck? look. I answer with an almost imperceptible shrug.
“Thank you for your help, Miss Brenner,” I say as coolly as I can muster so as not to sound out of character. “Go ahead and take your seat.”
I spend the rest of the hour returning assignments and fielding questions about the upcoming oral exams. When I excuse them, everyone leaves. Except, of course, for Katherine.
“What the hell was that?” she hisses, barely above a whisper.
“What?” I ask innocently.
She considers me carefully before speaking again.
“Is it safe to say you saw what happened in the dining hall this morning?” she asks with some irritation.
Deny, deny, deny.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Brenner,” I inform her coolly.
“Oh, please, I was late. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice that.”
“Whatever happened to delay you this morning, I’m sure it won’t happen again, Katherine,” I continue. But suddenly I can’t hold it together for another second. I burst out laughing. “And I really am sure. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if those idiots start going to the cafeteria on the other side of campus from now on.” I chuckle. “They will if they know what’s good for them, anyway.”
But Katherine does not look amused.
“You can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“You know what. Just because they can be nasty doesn’t mean they’re stupid. You don’t think it’s going to strike one of them as strange that you did your little accident re-creation in here? When one of them puts two and two together, they’ll be wondering why you would do something to defend me. It is just so out of character for you, that someone is bound to notice sooner or later,” she scolds me.
“Katherine…”
“Stop it! Stop calling me that,” she hisses softly as if someone out in the hallway might here us. “You know as well as I do what a risk you’re taking every time you call me by my first name. Huge red flag there, Dr. Markham.”
I can’t suppress the grin that creeps across my face as she grows more frustrated with me. This only makes her angrier.
“Listen to me,” I say, trying to sound more serious. “You’re absolutely right. And, yes, I saw what happened this morning.”
“Why were you even there?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out her phone, holding it out for her to take.
“That’s where it is! I’ve been looking all over for this!”
“I found it under my bed last night when I called you to see if you got home okay. I thought it might be better to get it to you in the dining hall rather than in the music department…but, well, you see how that turned out.”
She looks down at the phone then up at me again.
“Why does this say I have text messages? Did someone text me last night?”
“Yes,” I inform her. “I did. I wanted you to have my number in your phone. But I did take the precaution of entering my name as D in your contacts. Just in case someone sees your phone. Or mine for that matter—I’ve just got K for you in mine.”
She’s rolling her eyes but I can tell she’s trying to hide her smile.
“Well, thank you, Dr. D. I don’t suppose you’ve come across a silver bracelet in your travels? I thought maybe I’d left it somewhere in your house.”
“Yes, actually. I’ve got it out in my truck. I can go and get it now, if you like…”
She shakes her head. “No, I just don’t want to lose it. It was a gift from my mother. Just hang onto it for me until we can find a safe time for you to get it to me.”
“All right,” I agree.
There’s an awkward beat of silence between us.
“How long has this been going on?” I ask.
“What?”
“You know what. How long have they been screwing around with you like that?”
She doesn’t reply, just stares at me. My eyebrows go up.
“Katherine…”
“Dr. Markham, it’s fine. I’m fine. I can take care of myself,” she informs me stubbornly.
“Funny, didn’t look like that to me.”
Her voice drops down to a level that’s barely audible.
“You know what? Just because we…we…you know… Doesn’t give you the right to—”
“To what? To worry about you? To defend you? To care about what happens to you?”
“Exactly. You never had any interest in doing any of those things before.”
Before we can finish our heated exchange, the classroom door opens and Tessa sticks her head in.
“Drew? I was wondering… Oh, hello, Kate. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize the two of you were having a discussion.”
“Nope,” Katherine says as she spins on her heel and walks out of the room. “I was just leaving.”
“We’re not done discussing this, Miss Brenner,” I call after her. She gives a little wave with her hand, not bothering to turn around.
When the door closes behind Katherine, Tessa gives me a quizzical look.
“Everything okay there?” she asks.
“Yeah. Just the usual.”
“You know, maybe you should consider having her finish this semester as an independent study. I’ll bet Barry Green would take her.”
“No,” I say, a little too quickly. And a little too loudly. “No,” I repeat in a softer voice. “She really did an exceptional job with her midterm project. I’d like to see her finish the semester with me.”
“Well, okay,” she says, looking at me a little oddly. “Whatever you think is best. I just wanted to see if you’d like to grab some coffee?”
I glance at the sopped-up mess in my trash can. I never did get that second cup.
“Yeah, absolutely. But let’s go off campus. I don’t need to be back for an hour or so. Feel like a drive to Ruby’s Café?”
Tessa’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “I’d love to. Let me get my coat and meet you downstairs.”
She scurries away and I walk out to where I’ve left my vehicle in the parking lot. By the time I drive around to the front of the building, Tessa’s waiting for me in a very stylish and feminine-looking parka. I didn’t think they made those things to look girly. It gives me an idea. One that Tessa can help me with—if I’m careful.
“Hey, Tess?” I venture once she’s buckled in and we’re on our way in my truck.
“Hmm?” she replies, applying lipstick in the small mirror behind the sun visor.
“I’d like to get my mom a nice winter coat, but I don’t know where to begin…”
“Foal and Fernham,” she says before I can even finish the question. She turns to look at me with her newly perfected pucker. “Beautiful outerwear that’s functional and fashionable. Unfortunately, the closest store is in Charlotte. But I’d be happy to go with you sometime. Are your folks finally coming out this way? Because you know I’d love to meet them,” she offers enthusiastically.
“Nothing for sure, but I’m working on it,” I mumble, making a mental note of the store with the ridiculous name. “Foal and Ferman?”
She giggles and rolls her eyes at me. “You men are all the same. Here, I’
ll text it to you,” she says, already typing into her pink phone with her pink-nailed thumbs.
“Thanks, Tess.” I smile her way and consider when I can get away to Charlotte for the day, taking careful note of her coat so I don’t inadvertently purchase its twin.
…
Tuesday March 28th 11:15 a.m.
D: Hi
K: Hi
D: Where are you?
K: In Dr. Green’s Jazz History class.
D: Zzzzzzzzz
K. We just got our midterms back. I got an 89 :^(
D. Seems low for you.
K: I was sick last week. Or don’t you remember?
D: Ohhhhhh I remember. Where did you drop the points?
K: Hard Bop.
D: But not Bebop.
K. No.
D. How about swing?
K. Swing was fine.
D: So, just the Hard Bop.
K: Again, yes.
D: Hmm. I like my Bop hard, too. Maybe I can tutor you…?
K: Face-palm
D: WTF does that mean?
K: Go ask one of the cool kids.
D: You’re the only cool kid I know.
K: Aw sweet!
D: Yes, you are. And I miss you. You’ve got great lips, you know.
K: I do?
D: Oh yeah. My lips think very highly of your lips.
K: Do they now?
D: They’re looking forward to seeing them in class tomorrow.
K: Hey! Keep your eyes off my mouth! No wonder your Bop is Hard!
D: Yeah, about that…
K: DEGT
D: WTF?
K: Don’t. Even. Go. There.
Chapter Thirty
Kate
I’m humming the Aria from Bach’s Goldberg Variations as I walk into the concert hall for my evening lesson.
“Ah, Bach. Someone’s in a good mood,” Russell observes when I drop my things on the stage.
“Maybe,” I say with a sheepish smile as I pull my shoes off and hop up onto the podium.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.” I nod.
“What’s his name?”
My head whips up before I can stop myself, confirming his suspicions.
Solo (Symphony Hall) Page 15
