Here was yet another example of why his open and honest policy was a trap. They could be laughing right now at the little white lie she’d told her mother, but instead he was acting like a prick. They’d barely begun as a real couple and he was already finding reasons to back out, to abandon her.
“Maybe you dropped them on the way to the truck,” he said.
Both the way he said it—maybe you dropped them—and how he was so sure of himself that he didn’t even check his own pockets annoyed her. Rooting through her purse for the fourth time, she really did feel stupid. She dumped out her billfold—money, pictures, address book, credit cards, identification, scraps of paper—while holding the tickets in place with her little finger. “I am such a fucking idiot,” she sighed, feeling like she might cry for real.
“Don’t say that. We’ll find them.”
She eyed his coat lying between them. The right pocket was facing her, showing her a way out. “If I don’t find them, I will pay you back for them.”
He told her he wouldn’t hear of it as they approached the parking garage. “There’s no point in paying for parking if we don’t have tickets.”
“Park anyway,” she said. “Maybe they can do something at the box office.” When he powered down the window and reached for the parking ticket, she plucked the envelope from her billfold and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
After he parked the truck, she got out and started looking under the passenger seat while he searched the floor. The traffic had slowed them down and they were going to be late if he didn’t find them soon. “Will you check your pockets, please,” she asked.
“I know I don’t have them,” he said, getting out of the truck, checking his pants and shirt pockets, then putting on his jacket and checking those. “What the…?” he said, pulling out the envelope, looking bewildered.
“I knew I gave them back to you!” she said.
He didn’t look convinced, like he knew what she’d done. Panic rose in her but the survivor voice told her to keep her mouth shut. Then, sure enough, he shook his head. “I can’t believe…when did I…?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, plucking the tickets from his hand.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I could have sworn…”
“It’s okay, honey,” she said. He looked so dejected that she kissed his check. “We got them. That’s all that matters. We’re going to be late,” she shouted, slamming the door and clip-clopping across the parking lot in her dress and high heels. “Come on.”
Seth ran up beside her. “I feel like a jerk. I don’t know how I could have—”
“Will you forget it, already,” she said and added playfully, “you’re forgiven!” She hoped that he would remember how unforgiving he’d been when it was she who’d been responsible for losing the tickets. Then she tested him by letting her heels slip out from under her and he passed the test not only by catching her, but by scooping her up into his arms. She let out a scream as he carried her, breaking into a run across the parking lot. “Hang on,” he said.
“You are crazy!” she shouted.
“Maybe,” he grinned, “but we’re going to make it.”
13
A cell phone went off in the middle of Seth’s lecture on “How to Write a Literary Analysis Essay without Boring Yourself and Your Professor to Death.” He immediately recognized the song: “Do Me Baby” by Prince. “Alright,” he said, getting to the silence button before anything too embarrassing could be deciphered, “who is the bonehead that forgot to shut off their phone?” Amid the laughter of his students, he laid his phone aside without reading the text message. “See how disruptive that is? Not to mention rude.”
Setting ring-tones to herald her phone calls and text messages was a prank Kerri liked to play on him. Some of her previous choices included classics like Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On” and “Start Me Up” by the Rolling Stones. He stumbled his way back into the lecture and lurched forward trying to explain how a story’s structure and tone could reveal its theme as rouge thoughts scattered through his brain, bouncing off the walls of his mind.
Ever since the night of the orchestra, he’d been feeling increasingly like someone he didn’t know. He was unable to sleep at night and was too tired to focus during the day. There was an uneasiness that he couldn’t identify. Things with Kerri seemed to be okay, but maybe, unconsciously, he was feeling guilty over the age difference again or maybe, as Kerri had once suggested, he was afraid of commitment. Maybe it was both of these things but he was pretty sure it wasn’t either one. And yet, it was something. He’d never felt this before, this ill at ease, this uncomfortable in his own skin.
His classes were going great. Though he hadn’t been back to visit his family since Rita’s funeral, he had talked to his Mom on the phone and she seemed to be doing fine. So overall, things were alright.
But they weren’t. It disturbed him that he’d forgotten to turn off his phone because he’d been forgetting a lot of things lately. Misplacing things too. The morning had gotten off to a lousy start when he’d spent the better part of an hour looking for his car keys. They finally turned up in the pocket of yesterday’s jeans, already retired to the hamper. This only added to the general sense of annoyance he was experiencing at having also lost his watch. He’d forgotten to wear it before but always found it where he’d left it on the nightstand or the bathroom counter. It was neither place nor any of the other two dozen places he’d searched. Just the thought of all the time he’d wasted looking for it irritated him. Even Kerri’s prank with his cell phone had him more annoyed than amused, as if there were an ulterior motive behind her actions that had more to do with checking his phone than being cute.
Which was ludicrous.
Or was it? Her phone was never left unattended.
He came up with an exercise to keep his students busy, casually swiped up the phone, and walked out of the room to check the message. It read: I love you!
A wave of guilt washed over him. He started to text her back, then stopped, stepped into a quiet corner and called her. When she answered, he closed his eyes to still his thoughts and said, “I love you too.”
“You’re supposed to be in class, Mr. Hardy,” she said.
He could hear the smile in her voice; see it in his mind’s eye. It lightened the heaviness of his thoughts, focused them a bit, and left him feeling a little foolish. “Then why,” he said, trying to smile too, “are you sending me mushy text messages?”
“Because I’m a sap and I wanted it to be the first thing you saw when you got out of class.”
“Well, I forgot to turn my phone off and ah…”
“Oh no,” she giggled, “I’m sorry.”
“Really? Cause you don’t sound sorry. Don’t you have history now?”
“It was cancelled…and I’m all alone in this big house.” Kerri asked if he wanted to come over after his class and christen her bedroom. “I’ll even throw in a tour of the Engel estate. All you saw last time was the kitchen.”
“You and your tours,” he said.
“So is that a yes?” she asked.
“What will your mother say if she comes home and finds me there?”
“Probably something like, ‘Hello Seth! How are you?’”
“You’re a riot. Will she have a problem with it?”
“I am an adult, honey.”
“I know, but she’s still your mother and it’s still her house.”
“As long as we are fully dressed when she gets here, no problem. She told me to invite you anytime.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. In fact, you’re all she’s talked about for the past two weeks.” She continued in the high-pitched voice of an infatuated girl, “‘He’s so nice. He’s so handsome. He’s so well-spoken.’”
“What was she expecting,” he asked, trying to lighten up, relax, be his old self again, “mean, ugly, and inarticulate?”
“Speaks volumes of what she thinks of her daughter,
doesn’t it? You are the most interest she’s shown in my life in years. She’s like a school girl always wanting the scoop. ‘So how’s Seth? What are you two doing tonight? When do I get to see him again?’”
“Yeah, well, I do have that effect on women.”
“Yes, you certainly do. Go finish your class, Professor, and then get your ass over here and fuck me.”
Walking back to the room, his mind was on fire with images of how he and Kerri were going to defile that bedroom. That is if they made it to the bedroom. He might, in fact, take her right there in the foyer. He was about to dismiss class early when he realized that he wasn’t tired anymore and suddenly felt himself channeling this surge of energy into the last part of his lecture. “It takes no imagination at all to approach a literary analysis as some dry, tedious requirement,” he said, picking up the anthology like a preacher brandishing a bible. “Find something in here that turns you on or pisses you off and show me how, show me why, let me see—for a few pages—hell for a couple of good paragraphs—what you see. I dare you to shock me. To surprise me. To give me something fresh.”
When the last minute ticked off the clock, he knew he had them, by God, and a good handful of them were going to take that challenge. And maybe, just maybe one of them might actually forget about their grade long enough to hit him in the gut with something raw and fresh, something as unique and singular as their DNA.
He was high when he left the classroom and that feeling carried him through the halls and across the campus. Completely revived, light on his feet, his senses were wide-open and he was soaking it all in: the cheerful and sullen faces of the students, the crispness of the air, the strange shadows cast over the courtyard by the bright, cold rays of the afternoon sun. Striding around and past a group of heavy-footed professors on their way to the faculty parking lot, Seth bade them a good afternoon, recognizing one of them as Kerri’s chemistry teacher, a guy she claimed she’d repeatedly caught trying to sneak a peek down her shirt. Who could blame him? Certainly not a guy who knew what was under that shirt.
He climbed into the SUV and rolled out of the parking lot and onto the highway gliding through the gears. He had no sooner un-silenced his phone than it went off. “Graham! What’s up?”
“I can’t take it anymore. This is the day, buddy. I’m quitting. No more golden shackles. I’m telling them to go to hell. I’m done, man. Done!”
Graham was a sales representative for a company in San Francisco that sold background music—not his own, that was against company policy—for television, radio, and Internet commercials. He absolutely loathed the job. He’d taken it seven years ago to save enough to break out on his own as a full-time musician. The plan was to be at the job two years, three max. “What happened?”
“You wouldn’t believe what they’re pulling now. This micro-managing bullshit—”
“Back up,” he said, still charged. “Are you quitting because they pissed you off today or because you’re ready to begin the next chapter?”
“I’ve been ready for years.”
“No, you haven’t. You’ve been talking about it for years. Not the same thing.”
“I’m ready, Hardy,” Graham said. “It took me a long time to get here, but I’m finally here. The CD is almost done. I’ve got a couple of acoustic gigs that are pretty much lined up.”
“So why not wait until the CD’s completely done and the gigs are for sure?”
“Because I hate it; I can’t do this anymore.”
“Sure you can. You’ve hated it for years. Meet up with some friends for happy hour, have a few drinks, get a new perspective, relax a little and hit it fresh tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to hit it fresh tomorrow. I don’t have to do this anymore and I’m not going to.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes!”
“Positive?”
“Yes, dickhead! The decision is made. I am out.”
“Well, in that case, dickhead,” Seth said, “congratulations! It’s about goddamned time.”
Graham laughed. “Fuck you.”
“I mean it,” Seth said, grinning. “This is big. I’m excited for you.” He thought of the change his friend’s life was about to undergo. “Will you feel this strongly about your decision in a month from now?”
“Yes.”
“Two?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Then consider this. Instead of busting in there and telling them to go to hell, pick a date, a month from now, two, however long it will take you to really prepare for this mentally and financially…then leave the job cool and clear, ready for what’s next.”
“I am mentally prepared and I’ve been putting money aside for years.”
“Good. But you’re leaving a world of structure and certainty for one that’s going to be unstructured and uncertain. It’s going to be a blast for a while. You’re going to love it! And then it’s going to get scary and you’re going to have a whole lot of time on your hands. You’re going to start wondering if you made the right move and when you’ll be able to generate a decent income, and I can almost guarantee that you’ll be asking those questions prematurely and long before you will have an answer to either of them.”
“What are you saying?”
“Right from the get-go, buy yourself as much time as you can.”
“I’m not following you.”
“You live in a very expensive city and in a fairly expensive apartment. How important is it to live where you’re living? Could you move to a cheaper place that would still be comfortable? Maybe even a more affordable city, but one that would still feed you creatively.”
“I never really thought about moving. That might be a good idea.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Seth pulled into the driveway at Kerri’s house and shut down the engine. “The point is that there’s no rush now that you’ve made the decision. You couldn’t do that before. But you’re there now. That’s done. Play it smart and set up the endgame. The job won’t suck nearly as bad now because you know you’re leaving. You’ll have a date set. Use the time wisely. Lay out a strategy. Do it however you want to…and in the meantime, collect a few more big, fat paychecks and set back as much of them as you can.”
“That makes sense.”
“Hell, yeah, it does. You’ve been waiting to make this move for years. Take the time to play it right. The more prepared you are, the better.” They discussed the CD a bit and a new song Graham was considering as a bonus track. Seth agreed to give him feedback before he put the finishing touches on it. “When you’re ready to release it, I’ll write a review.”
“Great. Shit. I have to get going. My soon-to-be ex-boss is looking for me.”
“Keep me posted.”
“I will. Thanks, man. Hey, how are things with the naughty student?”
“Naughty.”
“Have fun,” Graham said, adding, “Professor Lucky Bastard,” and hung up.
Seth went to the front door of Kerri’s place and knocked. When there was no answer, he opened the door and peeked inside. “Hey baby! Where are you?” Still no answer. He heard a television. He stepped inside the door. Sounds were coming from downstairs. “Kerri?”
He went down the steps. They opened up into a den. A huge flat screen was playing a soap opera. Kerri was sitting on one of two leather couches, her thumb moving rapidly over the keypad of her phone. She was half smiling when she turned her eyes to him. The smile slid off of her face leaving behind a look he found unrecognizable, an expression between expressions.
“Hey,” he said, reaching the bottom of the stairs. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“What took you so long?” she asked in a monotone.
“I had to finish class.” He looked at his wrist. His watch-less wrist. Shit. “My buddy, Graham, called on the way here. He was a little wound up; he’s chilled out now.”
“That’s nice,” she mumbled, looking back to the television. Since when did she watch soap operas? �
�What a responsible teacher and wonderful friend you are. How special it must be to be you.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?” she asked, not taking her eyes from the screen.
“No clue. But you’re acting like it.”
Her phone went off. The first notes of a song he knew but couldn’t place. She checked the message, smiled, and started texting back.
“Who’s that?”
She didn’t answer.
He had a sudden, foreign urge to slap her. “I’m talking to you.”
“You’re sort of talking at me,” she said, absently sending off the text message and looking back to the television.
“What the hell is the matter with you?”
“What the hell is the matter with me?”
He felt like he’d stepped into an alternate reality where some slump-shouldered, lazy-eyed twelve-year-old had hijacked the body of the woman he came here to make love to. “Will you shut that thing off and look at me?”
She let out a theatrical sigh, shut the television off and looked at him like a bored child appeasing a parent’s ridiculous demand. “Better?”
“No, not really. Are you on something?”
She laughed. “Yeah, that’s it Seth. I’m a druggie. Did I forget to tell you that?”
“I guess so.” He turned and started up the steps. “When you pull your head out of your ass, give me a call.”
Her voice went up an octave. “You’re leaving?” She was instantly off of the couch.
“I didn’t come here for this.”
“No,” she screamed, “you came here for a piece of ass! Is this what happens when I don’t put out quick enough? You leave?”
He stopped in the middle of the staircase and turned to look at her. What the hell was going on here? She looked furious. Like she wanted to kill him. He was speechless.
Her phone when off again. The same ringtone. This time he remembered it: “Dirty” by Christina Aguilera. She silenced it without looking at the message and shoved it into her pocket. “I’m sorry,” she said, the anger in her voice turning suddenly to sorrow. “Don’t leave. Please.” She burst into tears. “Please, baby, please. I’m sorry. Please don’t go.”
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