Katherine looked up, and I had to stifle a gasp. Her eyes were glowing in a way I'd never seen before. I'd read about women being lit up by happiness, but I was seeing it in real life for the first time.
She tightened her arms around Omar, and I saw he was glowing too. "I'm just hugging my boyfriend," she said, grinning. "My great boyfriend."
"And when did this happen? I seem to recall a different boyfriend like two days ago."
Katherine gave a pretend shudder and let go of Omar so she could sit next to him. As he slung his arm around her, she said, "That was not a boyfriend. That was a mistake. After we got back here Omar and I were talking about it and..." She looked away from Leon and into Omar's eyes. "I suddenly realized I'd never be what Gunther wanted and I didn't even want to be. I wanted to be me."
Omar smiled at her, and Leon said, "Sure, but where does Omar come in?"
Her mouth curved into a tiny sweet smile. "It all just clicked at once. Who I want to be, how I want to be... it all made sense, and it all pointed straight to Omar. Who, amazingly enough, turns out to like me a little bit."
"Just a little." Omar winked at her, but his teasing tone had made it clear he didn't mean it.
Something occurred to me. "Omar, I thought you already had a girlfriend."
He blinked. "Nope. Not for ages."
Katherine said, "He was waiting for me," and cuddled into him.
I glanced at Leon and raised my eyebrows.
"I did say that, didn't I?" He shrugged. "Guess I was wrong."
Accidentally wrong, or had he been preventing me from going after Omar? He hadn't needed to, since I didn't have any feelings like that for Omar.
But then, neither had Katherine, and now she did.
She shook her head slowly, still looking at Omar. "We've been working together for ages and I never thought about him that way, but now it's like all the window blinds went up at once and the sun's pouring in. Everything feels so right. I'm... I'm awake now. I know who I am and I don't ever want to be someone else." She turned to me and smiled. "No more skirts, no more pink."
I made myself smile back, but it was so hard. I didn't want Omar, at least I didn't think I did, but the emotions I was feeling could only be called jealousy. Seeing Katherine's happiness was tearing me apart.
But things were right in my classroom now, I reminded myself. I'd succeeded with Khalid. At least I had that.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dear Kegan,
Do I call you dear? It feels weird. So does writing to you at all. Hell, so did seeing you. But anyhow. Hi.
I really thought I had it, you know? On Sunday Khalid, one of my students, finally understood something in math he hadn't been able to get before. (You're probably thinking, "Student?" Yeah, I'm in Kuwait teaching at an English-language school. I know, bizarre. I just had to get away and this opportunity arose so here I am.) But the kid got it, he really did. And he thanked me afterwards and we were both so happy. I thought everything would finally be all right.
I thought I'd finally managed to change and make things work.
But now it's Thursday, and I feel like Khalid has spent the week doing a scientific study on how best to prove that he hates me. He isn't disrupting the class, which is something, but he won't look at me and he won't talk to me and it hurts. I thought we'd gotten past all that.
I took my hands off the keyboard and reread what I'd written. I wouldn't send the email to Kegan, of course, but I'd had the most frustrating week I'd ever known and I just wanted to talk to, or at least at, someone. I couldn't tell my coworkers. How would I admit that the success that had so excited me hadn't even lasted a full twenty-four hours?
I had put on music when I got home, blasting it into my ears via headphones in an attempt to drown out my bad thoughts, but the thoughts kept raising their volume too and in desperation I'd started pouring out my heart to the guy who'd saved me from my screw-up with Greg.
I sighed and started typing again.
I don't know what I'm doing wrong. Something, obviously. But I don't know what.
My own words caught my attention. Was I really doing something wrong? I hadn't changed. When Khalid showed up a full hour late on Monday I'd been blindsided by his coldness when I'd been sure everything would be great, but I'd smiled at him and carried on with the class and treated him exactly as I had on Sunday. Even as the week wore on and his antagonism continued, I kept bringing up the memory of how we'd been on Sunday and it helped me continue trying to reach him.
If I hadn't done anything different, could his changed behavior really be my fault?
I typed several rambling paragraphs about how it seemed like it couldn't be even though most things were but if it wasn't then I didn't know what had happened and how to fix it, but I didn't get any closer to an answer. Understandable, since I was merely talking to myself, but disappointing nonetheless.
Anyhow, Kegan, I should get going. I've got a timer set on my phone to make sure I don't spend too much time on my email - lots of marking to do for tomorrow - and it'll be going off in a few minutes and I still have email to handle. Since I'm only going to delete this anyhow, I guess I can say that I really appreciate what you did for me at Steel that night and also tell you that I actually wish I could ask you what you think I should do about Khalid.
Funny, really. I hated you for so long and now I feel like you might be the only one who understands me even a little bit. We talked about looking like you've got everything under control but not feeling that way, after all.
On some levels I think I've got this teaching thing worked out, and my boss certainly thinks I do, but inside I feel like I'm hanging by my fingertips from a ledge at the top of the world's tallest building. Soon I'll screw it up. I always do. I'll mess up, and I'll tumble to the ground, and everyone will know I know nothing.
I bit my lip. Though I hadn't realized how I felt, as I reread the words that had rushed out of me I knew they were exactly right. I felt like a fraud, a faker, and my renewed failure with Khalid only strengthened those feelings.
A new song started on my phone, and I turned up the volume since the beginning was quiet then moved the mouse toward the 'discard' button on my computer screen.
The alarm I'd set went off in my ears, far louder than I'd expected, and I jumped and my hand jerked on the mouse.
The email disappeared from my screen.
Didn't the computer usually ask me to confirm when I discarded messages?
I ripped the headphones from my ears, my fingers tingling with a rising horror, and checked the email trash folder.
No message there.
Had I...
Hardly able to make myself move the mouse, I clicked on the sent mail.
Oh, of course I had.
My ramblings were on their way to Kegan.
I did a frantic Internet search, hampered by my shaking hands, but couldn't find a way to call back the email, so instead I sent another.
Kegan,
Sorry about that. I never meant to send that email. Feel free to ignore it.
Larissa
Chapter Twenty-Five
As if sending that email to Kegan had set things off, every area of my life started to crumble around me at once.
I spent all day Friday working on a series of English lessons around a novel called "Where Trees Grow", and sent them off to Katherine and Omar feeling proud of myself, a feeling which lasted just for the minute until Katherine texted me, "Um, wrong book."
I scrambled to check the list Omar had given me, saw "The Tree Planter" clearly printed beside my name, and my pride gave way to self-disgust. How had I been so stupid?
Since we'd all be starting with those lessons on Sunday, I had to spend Saturday working on the new version. Leon, who'd only been willing to be on his own Friday because I'd promised to spend Saturday with him, was annoyed when I called him. "We were going to play tennis. Cesar and Latifa changed their plans to meet us."
"I know. But I have to get m
y lessons done."
"What have you been doing all day then?"
"Lessons. But for the wrong book."
He laughed. "Only you, Larissa. Well, slap something together in the morning then we can play."
Hating the "only you" comment but knowing he was right, I said, "I can't. Katherine and Omar need me to get this put together right."
"Katherine-and-Omar," he parroted. "Like one big lump. 'Big' being the operative word."
If we'd been in the same room I'd have slapped him, but since we weren't I had to settle for saying, "They're my friends."
"And I'm your boyfriend. Don't I get some consideration?"
"You do. Of course. It's just..."
The argument we had then was too tedious to detail, but in the end I agreed to work as fast as I could and meet him and Cesar and Latifa for coffee mid-afternoon.
I knew I should have flat-out refused, since there was no way I could get my work done in the time I'd allotted, but I did want to see Leon. We had gone out on several double dates with Katherine and Omar, and though we'd been together longer I could see that we weren't really 'together' the way they were. I wanted us to be, and that was why I'd agreed to play tennis on Saturday though I hadn't wanted to in the first place. I hoped that if I managed to learn to like the game he loved our relationship would grow stronger and our problems would go away.
But with my screw-up on the English lessons I wasn't able to play. I threw the replacement lessons together as fast as I could, and did meet him and the others at the café. They bemoaned that we hadn't been able to play tennis, and I pretended to feel the same way but was secretly pleased and furious with myself for it. Though I didn't spend the full time with Leon, I also didn't put as much time into my work as I'd wanted, and I hated that I'd half-assed both the work and Leon. If I'd been able to keep my trees straight, none of it would have happened.
Khalid was a full two hours late on Sunday for school, which at least meant he didn't see me struggling through my poorly-prepared English lesson and feeling guilty that I'd made Katherine and Leon struggle through it too, and he wasn't in math class ten minutes before he glared at me and said out of the blue, "I hate you."
As the other kids gasped, I spoke before I'd even considered what to say. "I'm sorry to hear that. I don't hate you. Not at all. Can you answer this question for me?" He couldn't, and he also couldn't answer my "Why are you crying?" when he burst into tears before lunch. I knew something was going on with him, and it seemed to go deeper than just disapproval of me, but I didn't know what and I didn't know how to figure it out.
I couldn't stand how little I seemed to know of what to do, but I couldn't bring myself to discuss it with Janet since Khalid wasn't really disrupting the class any more and so I didn't think I should request her help.
Sunday night I went to the gym with Leon since I'd, in his words, deserted him on Saturday, and after an even-more-disastrous-than-usual game of tennis I lost my cool completely. For the first time ever I threw my racket, slamming it to the ground as white-hot rage filled me over my pathetic performance, and as I stormed off with my dad's "nobody likes a poor sport or a whiny girl" ringing in my head I managed to trip down the three stairs leaving the tennis court.
I slumped to the ground, fighting back tears born of frustration and the sudden pain, and Leon came over to me shaking his head. "Larissa, ninety-five percent of the time you're the perfect woman. What's the deal with the other five?"
The deal was that I couldn't hide my true messed-up nature all the time. I bit my lip to keep from crying and struggled to my feet, and he grabbed my elbow and supported me as I cautiously put my weight on my ankle. Fortunately I hadn't broken it, but the twisting I'd given it made standing up all day Monday and Tuesday even less fun than usual.
Omar did his best to help me at school, insisting upon walking my kids to recess and lunch so I could sit and rest, and he and Katherine even took me out after school on Tuesday for ice cream, but though I appreciated their care for me I found it hard to take. My stupid clumsiness had been the cause of the whole mess, after all, so why should they have to pick up the slack for me? Plus, seeing how sweet Omar was, when Leon basically rolled his eyes and told me not to be such a whiner, made me feel even more jealous of Katherine.
I didn't like being jealous of her. I knew I didn't want Omar as a boyfriend, and they were so perfect together. But somehow it hurt to see how great they were when Leon and I... weren't. I wanted Leon to be more like Omar, but I didn't see that happening.
Tuesday night, over-full of ice cream, I sat in my empty apartment flipping through the electronic pages of a book on my ereader. The story was about a woman who accidentally switched lives with her best friend, and I wondered whether I'd be happier in someone else's life. I certainly wasn't happy in mine.
In the past the tarot cards had helped when I was feeling this way, so I made myself get up and hobble into my bedroom to fetch them from the drawer where they lived with the scarf from Amirah and my ring from Greg and the other things I couldn't use but also couldn't get rid of somehow. Maybe Omar's use of the cards, which had happened a few more times since the first one, had cleared their energy and they'd work for me.
Back on the couch, I shuffled the cards, both liking and feeling uncomfortable at the sensation of them in my hands, then laid out my favorite cross pattern.
"Should I change my life?"
I thought it hard, and even said it out loud, then began to read the cards.
They'd worked for Omar, but they still didn't for me. Back and forth, card after card, the meaning changed. I got one that the book I'd memorized had said meant yes, then a no, then a maybe, then two more of each scrambled together. A three-way tie, and utterly useless.
After I put the cards away, saddened but not surprised that they couldn't tell me how to live my life, I had a terrible time getting to sleep, and once I finally did I was jarred awake by a nightmare of Hayley standing over me with her arms wrapped around a huge eyeliner sharpener, screaming, "I'll cut you down to size!"
Once I stopped shuddering at the fear and self-loathing I'd felt in the dream, I got up and fetched the ice cream I'd brought home at Omar's urging in case I felt the need for a treat. As I savored the strawberry banana goodness I wondered at my dream-self's feelings. The fear made sense, since Hayley's sharpener had been more than big enough to grind my arms and legs into bloody points, but why the self-loathing?
I couldn't remember a lot of the dream, other than the menacing glint of light off the sharpener's wicked steel blade, but as I tried to run through it in my mind more of it came back to me.
I'd been bleaching Hot Caramel's eyebrows, and Chaz had found a makeup brush lying in the middle of a dirty floor which he'd stuffed back into my makeup bag despite my protests that it needed to be sterilized and was too nasty to be kept around as it was. Then Hayley had come prancing in wearing the wrap sweater I'd worn for my date with Greg, which I'd thrown out in Toronto because I hadn't been able to bear the sight of it, and had then started brandishing her sharpener at me.
Bleach. Unsterilized tools. The stuff that had gotten Hayley into trouble on one of my last days at work. I had told her about the need for extra-careful cleaning of her tools but not about the special care needed for that model's eyebrows, and as a reward for my behavior Chaz and Hot Caramel had agreed I would make it in the industry.
Make it because I was a lying scumbag.
No wonder the dream Hayley had wanted to kill me. The real one probably did too.
And I deserved it. I'd deliberately screwed her over because she talked too much about Greg being sexy. I'd been a jerk.
Thinking about that took away my appetite, so I put the ice cream cup back in the freezer and slumped onto the couch, wrapping myself in the cheap but comfortable beige shawl I'd bought on the street in Dubai.
There was no way around it. I had been awful to Hayley.
I wanted to make it right.
I picked up my
laptop from the coffee table and powered it up, then logged into my email, sighing in relief when there was again nothing from Kegan. The tiny bit of disappointment I felt mixed with the relief was easy to ignore; I didn't really want him to write me back but of course it would have been polite if he had. But since I didn't want to hear from him, his silence was a good thing.
Dear Hayley,
I hope things are going well there. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for how I acted the day of that big magazine shoot. You were right, I didn't tell you about Oksana's eyebrows. I did tell you everything else I could think of but I purposely left that out. The reason doesn't matter now, but I thought you should know that I did it. I am really sorry she yelled at you and that you looked bad to Chaz. I hope you can forgive me.
Larissa
As was now my habit after my accidental emailing of Kegan, I kept my hand off the mouse until I was sure I liked the email I'd written. It could come back and bite me, this one, if I ever wanted a job from Chaz again, but then he'd known at the time that I'd been two-faced and he'd approved.
I thought of Janet, who took care of all of us and worried about us and was still raving about how quickly I'd taken to teaching. Though I knew I didn't deserve the praise, part of me glowed every time she said those things because I knew she really meant them. She didn't say anything she didn't mean. She wouldn't have approved of what I'd done to Hayley.
I grimaced and hit 'send'. I didn't want to work for Chaz again. I didn't want a two-faced boss like that. When I went back to Toronto, if I needed to work for someone else before starting my own studio I would make sure I found a boss more like Janet.
I felt so much better after sending the email that I thought I could go back to sleep without further nightmares.
Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13) Page 45
