The Summer I Said Yes

by Tess Harper

  “You guys are like a train-wreck. I can’t look away. You’re on your own with this one.”

  “But—”

  Sophie cut me off before I could start. “I’ll tell you what Em, he’s definitely into you. And although you two are beyond help, I think you’re made for each other.”

  I looked up at her half frowning, half giggling. Not sure whether she was making fun of me, or being serious, or both.

  Sophie just smiled. “Go for it Em.”

  Chapter 14

  In two weeks, I was going on a date with Peter.

  Not a trip to the museum. Not a morning run. Not a quick meeting over coffee.

  A date.

  A date that could end with a kiss. A date that could end with mindless, intense, hot, crazy…well, I wouldn’t think about that right now. The point was Peter and I were going to go somewhere together and not just as friends.

  It was hard to focus on my work. I got butterflies every time I thought about it. Horny, sex-starved butterflies. Butterflies that instead of nectar fed on…

  Alright, that was just gross. The point was, I was looking forward to it. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Peter refused to see me until I had a rough draft of what I would present to the committee in December finished. He didn’t mind waiting. He wanted my dreams to come first.

  I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. In fact, none of this felt real. If it was any guy other than Peter, I would have thought something was up. No guy tells a girl that he knows she just got out of a serious relationship and will wait patiently for as long as it takes for her to feel comfortable getting intimate again.

  After our talk, I didn’t feel better. I felt as if I’d swallowed an anchor and was sinking into the sea, watching Peter through the watery, bubbly surface smiling above me. Peter didn’t really know me. He knew who I was before and with Nathan, but not the scattered, devious creature I’d become. I told myself that I’d told him everything that was pertinent, but I hadn’t told him about the most important thing.

  I hadn’t told him about Jack.

  I tried to rationalize this by saying I hadn’t told anyone about Jack yet, or at least not the entire truth about Jack. That, of course, made me feel like a horrible friend in addition to a lying, cheating, manipulative bitch.

  But really, was there anything between me and Jack anymore? Everything between us was in the past. It wasn’t my future. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t my business if his eyes sometimes looked sad when they looked at me. If they had dark circles under them as if he wasn’t getting enough sleep. If a part of me, despite everything that had happened and everything that stood in our way, still wanted him.

  I had Peter. I loved Peter in a way I would never love Jack. It was a love born of friendship and trust. Peter didn’t push me. He didn’t demand things of me. He gave me everything I needed without me even asking for it.

  So did I keep thinking about Jack?

  I tried to stifle the nervous energy roaming in my stomach. I had other students to think about right now. Regardless of what was going on in my personal life, it was my job to put them first.

  Laurel Arts Center was only a fifteen minute walk from the center of campus. The university had recently renovated the undergraduate math and science wings in the main building on campus as well as the graduate medical and health science building on the east end of school, but the art building was going to be the very last building to be re-done…or even considered.

  The third floor of Laurel was home to all the studio and history art professors. It smelled like dust, and the “art lounge,” positioned right outside the offices, was unsurprisingly empty.

  I had no idea why any college would put the student study lounge outside the professors’ offices. I was terrified of Professor Hepburn now and I was his teaching assistant—there’s no way an undergrad would ever use the space.

  I pulled off my tutoring session’s sign-up list off Professor Hepburn’s door, carefully removed the tape, and threw it in the cleanest college trashcan I’d ever seen. I then sat down on one of the couches. I hoped the people who signed-up would show.

  I reviewed the list a few times to take my mind off things. Sarah, Molly, Bret, Donny, Mitkov and Lauren. Lauren was a quiet girl who sat in the front of the class and had pretty good test scores, better than the class average. Mitkov was a Polish kid who slept through every lecture. Donny and Bret were on the hockey team, and Sarah and Molly were some of the hockey team’s biggest supporters.

  I squinted at the analogue clock on the other side of the room. 6:15pm. I had ten minutes before my students showed up, so I started bringing over chairs and situating them around the table by the couch. As I finished up, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs followed by giggles.

  I grinned. That had to be Sarah and Molly.

  The stairwell door swung open to Molly’s beaming face. “Hey Ms. Vaughn!”

  “Hello Molly, Hello Sarah. Take a seat wherever you want. You two are the first ones here.”

  Sarah and Molly shuffled off their book bags next to the couch and both took out their phones. As they whispered, I wheeled the projector in the corner to the center of the room and took out my slide cartridge. Mitkov, Lauren and Brett arrived soon after.

  I glanced at the clock. 6:17. “Alright everyone, let’s get started.”

  Just then, Donnie burst through the door. “Ms. Vaughn,” he panted, “sorry.” He yanked his ski hat off and dropped his backpack on the floor. “Practice got out late.”

  “Donnie, you’re fine. We’re still getting ready. Take a seat and we’ll get started.”

  Donnie took a seat between Brett and Lauren. “Dude,” he whispered, elbowing Brett. “Who’s that guy?”

  Mitkov glared. Sarah giggled.

  Oh boy. This wasn’t off to a good start. “Welcome everyone,” I beamed, keeping things upbeat. “I’m happy to see you all here. Your midterm papers will be due in two weeks, and I’ll be happy to look them over whenever you’re ready to share a draft. I will always give all of you 100 percent, but to ensure that I can give you the most help possible, it’s wise to get a draft to me at least a week in advance. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee I’ll have time to review it.”

  Molly’s face blanched when I mentioned projects and papers.

  “But don’t worry. All of you are already ahead of the game since you’re here,” I reassured. “So, since some of you don’t know each other, why don’t we go around the room and introduce ourselves? I’ll start. Hi, I’m Ms. Vaughn, and I like puppies.”

  Lauren stared at me with You are so fucking weird Ms. Vaughn eyes. Brett smirked.

  I gave a short laugh, “Jeez guys, loosen up.” I turned to Sarah. “How about you go next, Sarah?”

  Sarah straightened her back. “Um, hi, I’m Sarah, I’m a freshman and…um…yeah.” She nudged Molly.

  “Right.” Molly stood and straitened out her skirt. “I’m Molly.” Then, she smiled and sat.

  “And I’m Brett.”

  There was a prolonged silence. Brett elbowed Donnie.

  Donnie’s eyes blazed. “Ouch dude!”

  Brett smirked.

  Donnie frowned. “What the fuck was that for?”

  Molly scrunched up her face in disgust. “God, I can’t believe you just swore like five minutes into our tutoring session.”

  “You’d be surprised with what I could do in five minutes, babe.”

  “No, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Molly grinned. “From what I’ve heard, five minutes is being generous.”

  Alright, did I say we were off to a bad start? This was going so badly that I was suddenly thankful the room was always empty. I’d probably lose my job if someone overheard. “Alright Molly and Donnie, consider this your warning. I want this to be a safe space for all students to talk about their concerns about school and college life, so no swearing or mentioning each other’s…performance in areas outside of class.”

  Sarah slapped her hand over her mouth t
o hide her laughter. Molly looked like she was about to cry.

  Oh boy. They hadn’t covered this in orientation.

  “No hard feelings,” I said. “Just be sure to respect each other’s spaces in the future. Now, why don’t you introduce yourself?” I asked, looking at Donnie.

  “Oh yeah. I’m Donnie.”

  Mitkov grinned. “I think we’re all going to remember you.”

  Thankfully, Donnie didn’t get what he was referring to. He faced down the group with his best scowl. “You all better.”

  I shook my head at Mitkov as a warning. “Alright, and why don’t you introduce yourself?”

  “I’m Mitkov,” he grunted.

  A girl with curly brown, shoulder-length hair raised her hand. “And I’m Lauren.”

  “Great. Now that we know each other, let’s get started.” I stood, put my slide wheel in the projector and turned it on. Before I opened my mouth to begin the lesson, I heard another voice.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  I froze. I knew that voice. It was the voice that filled my steamy fantasies and haunted my dreams—I mean, nightmares. That sexy, confident, I-don’t-give-a-fuck-about-anything-but-you voice. The hairs on my back stand on end and my face turn bright pink.

  Jack.

  I turned to the voice and looked into his deep blue eyes. My heart pounded. I opened my mouth but nothing came out, so I just stood there gaping like an idiot.

  “Good evening Miss Vaughn.” His eyes like fire and ice cutting through my skin.

  I pulled my shoulders back and looked at Jack. I couldn’t let his steely blue eyes rattle me. Act as if he were any other student in your class. You are a professional and he is your student. He has every right to be here and you just need to get over yourself. “Of course you can join us, Jack. Signing up is just a formality and helps me to prepare for the sessions.”

  Alright, other than sounding like a matron with a ten foot pole up her ass, things were going great. I killed the lights and focused the projector on the wall in front of us. “Now, does anyone recall the terms we talked about on Thursday, the Sublime and the Picturesque?”

  “Yeah,” Sarah answered. “The Sublime is when an artist makes nature look more powerful than man, and the Picturesque is when they make nature look pleasant and realistic, kind of like an Instagram pic.” Sarah immediately looked down. “Sorry, that last part was a little lame.”

  “It’s not lame,” I told her. “You’re right. The paintings were so realistic that people would say it looked like the artist had captured an image of nature in a picture frame. And the Instagram reference is not stupid. It’s always good to take terms and concepts and relate them to your own personal experiences.”

  Sarah smiled.

  I continued, “Now, does anyone have something else to add?”

  “With the Sublime, nature is like Arnold in Commando. You don’t fuck with that dude’s daughter,” Donnie chimed in.

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Man’s powerlessness before nature, a force far greater than himself, is definitely an element of the Sublime. Good job, Donnie.” I showed the first slide. “Now, everyone pretend this is the first slide shown on your first test, and you have to answer the following questions: ‘Who is the artist? What is the name of the painting? And, Use this painting to talk about the Sublime in 18th century landscape painting.’ How would you answer?”

  Everyone had a blank expression on their face except Jack, who smiled quietly to himself.

  The looks of that smile really didn’t set me at ease.

  I turned my attention to the rest of the group and gave them a reassuring smile. “This is a typical question you’ll see on the midterm, but don’t get freaked out by everything you have to do. Start by answering just one of the questions. Can anyone tell me what’s going on in the painting?”

  “There’s a volcano and it’s erupting,” Sarah offered.

  “Yes, this painting definitely shows a volcano erupting. Can anyone else add to that?”

  “It’s night?” Brett chimed in.

  I nodded.

  Mitkov glared at the painting. “Is this that volcano in Italy?”

  “Yes Mitkov.”

  Brett turned to Jack. “I totally remember that volcano. It’s Mt. Victory.”

  Molly shook her head. “Uh, read a freaking book Brett, it’s not Mt. Victory, it’s Mt. Volturi.”

  Donnie laughed. “Wrong book, Molly. It’s not a vampire mountain.”

  Molly recoiled. “What the hell are you talking about? That’s the name of the volcano.”

  This time Donnie shook his head. His flo rippled over his shoulders. “No, Volturi is the name of the evil Vampire cult in Twilight.”

  Brett and Donnie laughed. Molly looked like a toddler in a beauty pageant who’d gotten second runner up.

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, how would you know that Donnie? Was Twilight your summer read?”

  Molly and Sarah shared a predatory grin as Donnie’s smile fell.

  “Alright, settle down everyone. We’re getting off-topic.” I gave Donnie a bright smile. “And don’t worry, Donnie. There’s nothing wrong with a guy being well-read.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Donnie looked like he was about to die. Even his flo looked like it had died—or at the very least, someone had poured water over it.

  Jack’s voice interrupted the uncomfortable silence. “The volcano’s name is Vesuvius.”

  I glared at Jack. He continued, “The Sublime evokes such a powerful feeling because men want to own, control and conquer, and yet we can’t do those things—or at least not entirely—because the natural world imposes limits on us that are outside of our control.”

  Jack’s eyes burned into my skin. He wasn’t talking to anyone in the room except me. Dammit Jack, please don’t play your games right now.

  “Interesting point Jack,” I said breaking our gaze. I motioned to the painting. “However, the Sublime is more than mans primal urge to control and claim ownership over the natural world.”

  Jack still stared at me. I knew he wanted me to look back at him, but I wouldn’t give in. This was my tutoring session, not Jack’s. We were gonna play by my rules.

  I straightened my posture. “Depictions of the Sublime do not need to be sorrowful. Admitting that you are weak or powerless does not necessarily mean that you want to control another thing, or that you only value authority. Succumbing to forces greater than yourself can also be beautiful as well as frightening, and it is through the Sublime that man can also explore his fear and awe of the divine.”

  “Miss Vaughn,” Jack began seductively, “do you think that succumbing to a power greater than yourself can be enlightening?”

  A sliver of panic shot through me. He wasn’t taking this where I thought he was, was he?

  “It can be scary to be overpowered by such intense, passionate emotions,” Jack continued. “But those same passions can also cleanse you. It’s only through accepting your own nature instead of living in fear of it that you can start a new, mature relationship.”

  “New relationship? Miss Vaughn, I don’t understand,” Brett cut in.

  “A new relationship with…” I felt my heart beating in the back of my throat as Jack flashed his signature bad boy smile. “Nature, of course.”

  I am going to kill you Jack.

  “That is so deep and romantic,” Sarah cooed.

  “Seriously,” Molly added doe-eyed.

  I wanted to throw up. That was the dumbest BS I’d ever heard. Something like the Sublime should never be compared to something as mundane as a summer fling. He wasn’t taking this seriously.

  “What a load of crap.” Mitkov grunted under his breath.

  Lauren recoiled from Mitkov.

  “Mitkov, why do you say that?” I asked politely. Finally some discussion.

  “Jack, is it?” Mitkov began. “You talk about nature like it is an unattainable woman. The Sublime isn’t about human love and beauty, it’s abou
t mans fear of the unknown. This painting is about showing how powerful and destructive a volcano is.”

  I smiled. “Very good Mitkov. See how the fiery colors in the stormy black sky are a reflection of the lava and smoke erupting from Vesuvius? Look at the perspective. The volcano—or nature—is so big that you can barely see the town—the only semblance of humanity in the painting—at the bottom. In this painting, Joseph Wright of Derby is showing the viewer that man cannot change or fight against nature, he can only stand in awe of it.”